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“Oh, God. Please tell me shedidn’t!” Six whispers.
Thirteen nods. “She did.”
“Where is she now?”
Thirteen looks at Six, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Six, she’s dead.”
“They killed her?”
“No. Twelve hung herself.”
Six visibly pales, the colour in her cheeks draining from her skin as tears pool in her eyes and fall from her lashes. My stomach churns, twisting in pain as Six gets up and rushes to the bathroom. I can hear her retching. I want to be sick too. Nausea rises up my throat and I double over, clamping a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t do this. Don’t punish yourself like this. It’snotthe same,” Thirteen insists, rubbing my back gently.
“He’d just been through trauma, Thirteen,” I manage to say.
“Youhelpedhim.”
“No,” I admit, shaking my head and fighting off the heavy pull of sleep that’s beginning to creep up my spine. “I didn’t set out to do that.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice low, soft.
I look at her and she moves in and out of focus as the sedative effects of the drink she gave me begin to take hold. I feel the familiar pull of oblivion just out of reach as it swarms at the edges of my consciousness.
“They hurt me so badly,” I choke out, my eyelids drooping and my muscles beginning to relax. “I wanted to find a way to hurt them, too. I used sex like a weapon, just like his father used to do.”
Thirteen presses her eyes shut briefly, when she opens them again they’re brimming with tears. “Oh, Christy…”
“But what started out as a way to get revenge…” I slur, my body slumping into hers, “Ended up with me fightingwithhim. Konrad fought so hard against the darkness inside of him. I couldn’t let him do it alone. I couldn’t let him fail, even after everything he put me through. What kind of person does that make me?”
“Agoodperson, Christy. Akindperson. Acourageousone,” Thirteen says, her voice sounding far away. “You’re nothing like Malik.”
“I clung on so tight. So tight,” I mutter, thinking about how desperately I tried to hold on to all that hate. “I failed.”
“You didn’t. You’re healing them,” Thirteen replies, misunderstanding me.
“You don’t know anything,” I mumble.
“But I do, Christy. I believe in the legend of The Weeping Tree. I believe in your mother’s words and the truth of your heart. I believe that you’re the one who’ll love them the way they deserve to be loved, that they’ll love you in return the right way with your help. Please don’t give up on them, on yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter if I do end up loving them,” I whisper, sleep pulling me under as my next words barely form. “Because they’re going to die anyway. I’m going to kill them.”
And with those last gut-wrenching words I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
An armover my waist and warm breaths over my cheek wake me from my slumber as I blink back the heavy fog of sedation. Reaching down, I press my fingers against Thirteen’s arm, only to draw back my hand quickly when I realise that it’s far too masculine to be hers.
“Thirteen?” I whisper, wondering if we’re back in Leon’s room and she’s sleeping on the chaise lounge just a few feet away.
“Shh, you’ll wake him,” a deep voice says from the other side of the room.
“Leon?”
“Yes,” he replies, stepping closer. I feel the mattress dip as he slides under the covers and I catch his outline in the strip of muted light coming through the gap in the curtains. “I didn’t think you’d be awake for hours yet.”
“What time is it?”
