Page 61 of A Silence So Divine

Cecil’s shoulders are rigid, his jaw twitching with tension.“This is S-y-l-v-i-e,”he signs.

Ever the peacekeeper, Creed nods, waves, and responds with his own name.

Sylvie’s eyes wander over to me and I don’t move a muscle. Whether it’s shyness or a touch of spite, I’m not sure. The two of us stare at one another. Her eyes are as golden as her skin.

Living in isolation wasn’t a life I would have ever chosen for myself, but being around people isn’t going over well, either. New, nasty emotions threaten to burst me at the seams.

“You haven’t taught your pet very good manners, have you?” Sylvie speaks out of the side of her mouth, her tone teasing. I may not know why she’s referring to me as a “pet”, but I do know when I’m being insulted.

Cecil says her name in warning. “She can hear you,” he grits out.

Sylvie shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it onto the armrest beside me. The end of a sleeve lands on my thigh, and I slowly pull my leg out from beneath it.

“Relax, I’m only joking.”

I want to tell her that it wasn’t very funny. I want to ask her if hitting Cecil was a joke, too. I want to say a lot of things, but timid as a mouse, I don’t say anything at all.

Creed, however, nudges me in the side as soon as Sylvie’s back is turned to us. When I look at him, he signs,“She’s nice.”

My lips almost twitch.

The sun is nearly set, cowering behind the trees. One of the male members, Jasper, builds a fire. Every time he pokes at the logs, a burst of orange flies into the air, flames floating around our heads like gnats in the summer. And every time, I flinch.

Creed and I sit together at a “picnic table”. More and more people filter in, some emerging from their homes and others arriving in vehicles. Every one of them casts a wary glance our way, and sit elsewhere.

Many send Cecil accusatory glares.

They don’t look how I imagined they would, the people. It’s fascinating, the differences between everyone. From their skin to the shoes they wear, I’m in awe of the different colors, textures, patterns. Some women have hair like Creed’s, while men have hair like mine.

Twisting the ends of my tresses around a finger, I try to envision myself with hair as short as Sylvie’s.

Would I look prettier?

Metal rods are handed out with meat sticks pierced onto the prongs. I decline the offering, but a young boy shoves it into my hand, anyway. I turn to Creed for an explanation, and he tells me we’re meant to cook the meat. The thought of putting this tube of pinksomethinginto my mouth is hardly appetizing, but I follow suit.

Cecil and Sylvie are sat across from us, speaking in hushed tones. Creed jabs his elbow into my side, motioning to the end of my stick. The meat has burst into flames. Panicking, I jerk the handle back, reaching out with my other hand to get a better grip. Closing my fist around the metal, it takes a moment for the pain to strike. The burn is a shock to my system and I don’t have the wherewithal to stifle my reaction. A startled shriek flies past my lips, and the stick drops to the ground.

Realizing my mistake too late, my uninjured hand flies over my lips. Most everyone has their hands clamped over theirears, releasing gasps and curses. Snapping my head in Cecil’s direction, I wither at his blanched expression. Within a few hours of meeting his people, I’ve caused harm.

He must be so disappointed in me.

The heavy thumping of my heartbeat drowns out the speculation and alarm. A familiar heat in the backs of my eyes warns me of the nearing tears. Wouldn’t that be something, piercing ear drums and then weeping blood for all to see.

I sign a hasty apology before I’m on my feet and racing to the truck. My limbs tremble terribly and I can’t get the passenger door open. Gripping the handle, I tug and tug but it doesn’t budge. The tears only worsen my vision, and frustrated grunts rumble in my throat.

Fingers close around my elbow, and I whirl around, expecting to see Cecil or Creed. Instead, I’m met with powder blue eyes that are curtained by wrinkles.

“It’s just me,” Veda says softly.

I wipe at my face quickly, but I know she’s already seen the Darkness.

There is no disgust, or apprehension staring back at me. Only concern. Certainly not for me, but maybe the people back at the fire. People that she cares about.

“May I?” Her words are hesitant, like I might startle and run for the tree line. I’m not certain I won’t. Cool fingers encircle my wrist, and after a moment, I allow her to flip my palm.

There’s little light, so she inches nearer. While she studies my wound, I study her. I’ve always assumed my life would be short, but looking at Veda, I picture myself with crinkled eyes and creased smiles.

“If you come back with me to the RV, I can wrap that up for you.”