She avoided my gaze and half hid her face in the handkerchief. “Some company I am.”
“I’m not great company myself.” I scratched my neck. My skin seemed on fire.
“I’m afraid I can’t accompany you inside.”
“I don’t mind going alone. I’m often alone.” I wasn’t sure why I’d added the last, pathetic words.
“Don’t you have friends?”
“One. Darius. He’s almost respectable.”
She chuckled. “I am really sorry for not being able to help you more.”
“I’ll live.” Poor choice of words, considering I might be dying.
I’d seen my share of diseases, odd people, and the aftermath of opium or too much alcohol, but never a young woman who couldn’t stand a crowd. She looked miserable.
“Go home.” I lifted a shoulder. “It’ll take a while before a doctor sees me.”
She swallowed a few times. “I don’t want to abandon you.”
“The hall is crammed with people.”
She opened and closed her fist, revealing a gold cross glinting in the sunlight. Its glare hurt my eyes. The urge to toss it away overwhelmed me, which didn’t make any sense.
She closed her hand around the cross, and oddly enough, relief washed over me. “You think I’m a freak.”
“Why would I?” Especially considering the odd thoughts my mind had conjured up lately. “I swear on my honour… No, wait. I swear on…” I chewed my bottom lip, thinking. “There must be something. What do people swear on these days?”
She laughed. “You don’t have to swear on anything.”
“Then tell me everything. I won’t laugh, make fun of you, or gossip about you.” I liked the sound of her laughter. It was like a cuddle.
“I can detect people’s feelings,” she whispered.
I leant closer. “Say what?”
She slouched. “It’s an extra sense I have. Sometimes, I have little control over the emotions reaching me. They flood me. That’s why crowds make me sick. Too many emotions all at once overwhelm me if I don’t have space.”
“What do I feel now?”
She gave me aseriously? look. “That would be too easy and wouldn’t prove I can sense your emotions. You’re in pain, tired, and…” She straightened, her gaze becoming distant. “Anger. So much anger. And do you have a craving?”
“Bloody hell.” She knew me better than I did.
“I hate it.” She drew her eyebrows together. “I can never be alone with my own emotions. It’s a constant invasion of foreign feelings. It’s exhausting.”
“I bet.” Hopefully, she wasn’t aware of what I craved.
She tilted her head towards me. “Now you pity me.”
“No.”
“You can’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I pity you a little. You were brave to come here with me today.”
“Mama had the same ability. Sadness poisoned her mind and weakened her. When the flu came, she died immediately.”
