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He’s cracking.
Nice to know he still finds me attractive. I haven’t started deteriorating on the outside yet, but when I do, my self-esteem will take a massive hit.
I can imagine the horror that will play out on Ellister’s face when my hair starts coming out in chunks. When he slowly watches my skin take on a grayish tint and my bones protrude from my emaciated body.
Maybe that’s what he’s remembering, too. Maybe the memory of what happened to me is what’s keeping him so strong and focused.
In that case, I see his point.
If our roles were reversed, I’d do anything to save him, even if it meant depriving us both of the affection we crave.
The distance we keep between us now might buy us the time we need to fix me, and when I spy a slight sheen of conflicted tears in his eyes, I decide to stop torturing him.
I pull up my gown and cover myself.
Determined to stay optimistic for us both, I say, “It’s going to work. It has to. Now show me what you’ve got so far.”
HANNAH
As I toss a couple more logs into the fire beneath the distiller, the heat wafts up to my face.
“Don’t get so close.” Ellister comes into the barn with an armful of freshly chopped wood and bends over to dump it on the growing pile beside the door. “Let me stoke the fire. It’s going to spike your fever.”
“I’m actually okay right now. The waterfall mist really helped.”
I back away from the distiller, rubbing my stomach where I’m being cooled from within because of that wonderful drink. Between the weather and my elevated temperature, I’ve been sweating constantly, but I’m completely content for now.
Ellister looks pleased and relieved at the same time. “Then you should drink it all.”
Sheepish over my greedy chugging, I shrug. “I already did.”
“I’ll get you more. I’ll get as much as you want.”
“While you do that, I’ll stay and keep things going.” I motion to the mounting flames.
“You will not. Get back to bed and let the fire work.”
I shake my head. “I can’t lie down anymore. It makes me antsy.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be in here.” Ellister glances at the smoke filling the space. With the holes in the roof, it’s escaping, but the air still isn’t the safest for me to breathe.
Torn, I look at the distiller. “I just want to be here to make sure it’s operating right.”
I can hear the bubbling inside the metal drum. The water is already boiling, and the steam seems to be contained as intended inside the funnel and pipe. With how many scraps we fitted together, I was worried about leaking, but the tree paste we put on the seams is doing its job.
The very top narrows to a tiny opening at the peak, and that’s where Ellister attached the metal tubing. From there, the pipe is angled down toward a ceramic pitcher on the dirt floor.
An empty pitcher, dry as a bone.
“Shouldn’t we be seeing results by now?” It’s a rhetorical question because Ellister doesn’t have the answer to it any more than I do.
Bending down, I squint at the small amount of steam slowly coming from the open end of the pipe. It’s just evaporating as soon as it hits the air.
Not good.
Unnerving silence stretches on as I cross my arms and wait for a drop of liquid to collect. Just one. That’s all I’m asking for right now.
But it doesn’t happen.
