“Don’t touch that,” a voice garbles, weak and wheezy and completely unknown.
Fear curdles in my veins when a voice comes from the shadows. Whipping my head to the right, I squint to make out who’s in the room with me when a dim light flicks on overhead. With the glow being so low, it takes no time to adjust, allowing my comfort to return when Clara hobbles into view.
“Hey,” I groan, pushing on the thin mattress to sit up straight against the wall. Past Clara, who is still somewhat in the dark, similar beds lie in a row. They’re empty, all covered in black, oxidized stains. The hard crust beneath me confirms I sit on top of them, too—the blood of someone unknown pricking against my skin.
Shifting, I take in the rest of the space. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a locked cupboard above an isolated metal sink.
“It’s a medicine cabinet.”
“Where are we?”
“An infirmary,” Clara utters, head rolling around the room. “Sort of. It’s not too far from where we’re kept. So, I guess that’s good to know.” Beneath her breath, Clara mutters to herself, “Not like they ever help us, though.”
That’s for damn sure.Stretching out my tight, stiff limbs, I peer closer in Clara’s direction, ordering, “Come here.”
There’s an initial hesitancy, almost as if she’s considering saying no, but then she steps further into the light, allowing me to study her entirely. Fresh bruises, growing welts, and still-leaking wounds mottle her once-perfect flesh. Beneath her dress, a scrap of silky, off-white fabric, bone breaks through her skin, splitting her collarbone in two. I remember back home, I’d watch her hair swing as she walked away from me. Now, chunks are missing from her scraped scalp, leaving her bald in most places.
I looked no further than the smeared shadow of blood between her thighs. “What the fuck happened?”
High-pitched whistling pierces my eardrums as she blows out a panting exhale. Throat bobbing, Clara gathers enough breath to mutter, “It was a rough one last night.”
If her skin weren’t already ashen, Clara would look deathly beneath the glow.
“What happe?—”
“I don’t,” she cuts me off with a gasp, hand raised weakly to stop me from speaking, “want to talk about it, Cade.” When her fingers fall, they make a heavythunkagainst her thigh. It’s a hollow sound, as if someone carved out her insides.
Sorrow and fatigue shine through the tears beading around the edges of her eyes. She used to brush them away. Now, Clara doesn’t bother trying to mask the torment she battles inside.
I bite my tongue, holding back all the questions waiting to spill out, swallowing the blood spilling into the sides of mymouth. Feeling my rage bubble out, I tear at my cuticles, fighting to give Clara the space she needs. “So,” I grumble, “what are you doing in here? Why?—”
“You’ve been knocked out for over a day. Marone was talking about putting you down if you didn’t wake up.”
“Okay… and?” Normally, I would have said,“Do it.”Fucking let him.
But Bunny.
Coughing out something wet and chunky, Clara leans against the wall, fighting the sleep pulling at her eyes. “And,” she states, annoyed. It brings a smile to my face, some of her old self shining through. “I obviously didn’t want that to happen. So, I told him my mom was a nurse. I could wake you up.”
“And he fucking believed you?” I ask, completely amazed that he fell for her lie.
“I don’t fucking know,” she responds, almost as astonished as I am, “but I’m here, and it’s better than being outthere.”
The weight of that final word hangs heavy between us because we both know what waits for us beyond these walls. Before my thoughts can delve too deep, Clara displays her first grin.
“I met Bunny yesterday.”
Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of my heart shatters my eardrums yet beats against my chest in a rhythmic, soothing tempo.
“Yeah?” I ask, clearing my throat of the need I feel when I hear her name. “What about her?”
Her smirk turns into a full face-eating smile, splitting open her bleeding wounds, but she doesn’t care. Joy radiates through her like she can’t even feel it. “No. No. No,” she laughs, glee turning into painful wheezing. When settled, skin devoid of all color, that smirk returns, though more muted than before. “Don’t give me that cold, stoic shit. She was about ready to ripmy head off when I said your name. Clearly, there’s something there.”
Clara is the last person Bunny ever needs to worry about, but still, hearing that jealousy hit her so hard she was ready to chew Clara to pieces… that brings some life back into me.
“What makes you say that?” I can’t help but ask, because that same envy turns my blood to ice. Someone touching her? God, I’ll fucking kill them.
After some thought, Clara whispers, “Her eyes. I swear you could see everything in them.” I thought so, too.
