Page 73 of A Silence So Divine

And then nothing.

Incessant tapping on my cheek stirs me, and I wake with a jolt. Emerald eyes are mere inches from mine and a startled gasp gets caught in my throat. The expanding of my ribs aches, and I clutch at my chest.

Relief softens the crease between Creed’s brows, and he rests his forehead against my shoulder for a moment. The pressure is slight, but it borders on suffocating. I recognize the room. I’m back on Veda’s slouchy old couch.

Feeling claustrophobic, I wriggle beneath Creed until he gets the idea and scoots to the edge of the couch. He hovers, because that’s his way, but he’s careful not to touch me.

“What did I do?”I ask urgently. The details are hazy, but I know blood. And fear. AndCecil.

Creed reaches for me and I jerk back without thinking. He releases a slow sigh.

“You protected him.”

Tears well in my eyes. I can’t erase the vision of a handsome face coated in crimson.

“What did I do?”I repeat.

Both of us know what I’m really asking. And his unwillingness to answer is all the confirmation I need.

The dam breaks, and heaving sobs wrack through my body. Throwing my palms over my mouth, I stifle them to the best of my ability.

No matter what I do, or where I go, the Darkness has control.

Is this truly all I was made for?

Creed squeezes himself beside me, lying down. His spine is pressed to the couch back, and he pulls me into his arms. This time, I relent. Turning into him, I bury my face in his chest.

I cry and cry and cry, until there’s nothing left.

Thirty

Cecil

Blurry faces pass above me. It’s bright, and then it’s dark, and then it’s bright again. Flexing my fingers, I try to move from the position I’m in. Something heavy pushes me down at the shoulders, and I let out a frustrated grunt.

“If you don’t hold still, we’re not gonna be able to fix up that pretty face of yours.”

The voice is familiar, and I turn my head in the direction of it. The movement makes my brain swim in my skull, and I squeeze my eyes shut again.

“Veda?” I rasp. Reaching blindly, my fingers brush what I assume is her hand.

“In the flesh,” she quips. “Don’t make me repeat myself, or I’m using duct tape.”

Time passes at an indiscernible rate. Whoever is working on me doesn’t do so gently, every poke and prod making me wince in pain. With the searing heat of antiseptic, I suck in a hiss through my teeth. Then comes the pressure of gauze and my hands curl into tight fists.

Finally, the pain has ebbed, but only slightly. Satisfied with their work, I hear a hum of approval and a brisk, “Done.”

My eyelids peel back and I peer around the room. It’s not any of the trailers I’ve been in before. Charlie, our oldest member and retired doctor, makes his way towards Veda in the corner, speaking in hushed tones. They talk that way for quite some time. Until, without another glance in my direction, Charlie steps out, leaving Veda and I alone.

She takes a moment, staring out the door. Her shoulders are tawny and freckled from years beneath the sun, and her gray hair is gathered in a loose braid. If you walked past her on the street, you’d never have a clue the kind of strength she possesses.

“You’ll live to see another day,” she proclaims.

Hefting myself into a sitting position, I look down. Flecks of blood paint my chest. Most of it has been wiped away, but the evidence of my beating remains. Well, that and my face feels like it’s been ripped off and then glued back on.

Fucking humiliating.

“Where is that piece of shit?” My words come out slurred, courtesy of a fat lip.