“It means I might never be able to get you pregnant.” The way he says it, with such anger, such…shame.
“Billy,” I frown, a million things rushing through my head, but only one of them important. “I-”
“No, don’t,” he snaps, “I’m just telling you before anyone else does. Before someone can throw it in your face. My entire existence is for one thing, Penelope, and it’s to fuck you until you’re carrying my child, and I might not even be able to do that!”
My brain whirls at his shout, guilt flooding my insides as I think of the little plastic tube of hormones still hidden safely beneath the skin of my inner bicep. I think of the conversation with Doctor Jay, the wink he gave me, the words he said, the promise he made me before my examination was over, and I feel sick. I plant my hand on my belly, bile rushing up the back of my throat, and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand as I spin away from him.
“See,” he laughs darkly, my eyes squeezed shut, “you can’t even look at me now.”
“This conversation has come out of nowhere.” I whip back to face him, and it’s anger now, the way my words spit, because nobody has ever asked about what I want. “Every man in my life I was ever supposed to trust, has instead, used my body like it were their own to do whatever they wanted with.” His blue eyes narrow in on mine, the same way mine are on him. “You are supposed to be different, Billy,youare who Ishouldbe able to trust! It doesn’t fucking matter about whatever is wrong with your cum!” I seethe, my words exploding out of me,“Because I’m not having a baby for yourfucking cult!”
Billy rushes me, and even though I expect it, I’m still not quick enough to get out of the way, my spine slamming into the cold marble at my back, his hands around my neck, mine flying up around his.
“Stop fucking calling it that!” Spittle hits my cheek as he gnashes his teeth, my nails clawing at his throat as he continues to steal my breath, the pressure from my own hands not even enough to stop him speaking, let alone stop him breathing. “You only say that because you have no idea what a real family is, Penelope.”
It’s spiteful, and he says it to hurt, to make it cut, to make me bleed. To upset me more than I upset him, because I did. It hurts him to think I don’t care. But I care too much, even about this, even though it’s true, what I said, Idon’twant to have a baby for his cult. I don’t trust anyone, especially not here, not The Obsidian, not anyone. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to have a baby for him. Forus.
And even as my eyes water from the pressure of his hands, the lack of oxygen in my lungs, my chest burning without breath, I realise, even now, like this, I do trust someone, I trusthim.
I think I maybe even hate myself for it.
So much confliction.
So much fear.
I don’t know this place. I don’t know any of its people. I don’t know anything about The Obsidian other than what Billy has told me, which isn’t much, and isn’t clear.
But my devotion.
My loyalty.
My love.
All of it is endless for him.
Thatisclear.
And in this moment, I just want to say his name. I want him to hear me say it. I want to hold his face and tell him I just want him to be happy. ThatIjust want to be happy. And I may not know what a family is, I sure never had one, but with him, surely, I could have one.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I release his throat, dropping my hands to cover his still on my neck. I hold onto his wrists, gentle, loving, and even as my vision darkens, I keep looking at him. Staring into his bright blue eyes, endless glacial waters, and I convey how much he means to me without using any words.
His forehead drops to mine, his grip loosening, and I’m coughing on cold air, choking on it as his arms come around my back, his hands cradling my head to his chest.
“I’m sorry, Little Lamb,” he whispers, pressing kisses to the top of my hair.
And although I want to believe it, nestling my face into his chest, his hands comfortingly tight around my shoulders and head, holding me to him.
I know it’s a lie.
Chapter 13
PENELOPE
Billy’s arm is around my shoulders, my knees bent, pulled all the way up to my chest where we sit on the bottom bunk of my shared bed. An older girl, ameanerone, on the top, she’s asleep and her snores are loud, loud enough for none of the other ten occupants of the shared room to hear us above it.
Billy and I.
He strokes my hair behind my ear, a cut piece of it, every strand a different length where the girls took scissors to it earlier today.
