“You killed him.” Her voice is flat as she fights me to try and curl around the animal’s limp arm.
It’s a stab to the heart to see her grief over the monster.
“Jen…I had to. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, then we can go.” I manage to get a hold of her and lift her from the ground.
But then she writhes in my arms. “I’m not going back,” she grunts, shoving against my chest.
“I’m not taking you back. I’ll go anywhere you want to go.” I hope she can hear the sincerity. I’ve broken so many rules for her, severed my last tether…I’m all in.
Her struggles fade as I carry her towards the rippling water.
“Hud,” she whimpers, burying her stained face against my neck. “I’m glad you didn’t die. But why did you have to shoot him?”
His smell on her is overwhelming and stings my nose.
“It’s okay, now. He’s done hurting you.” Setting her gently on her feet, my handkerchief makes a handy cloth to rinse the red from her pale skin.
Tears leave clean paths down her cheeks. “But he wasn’t.” She stands, shivering and huddled as I wipe her down.
It’s surreal having her out here in the wilderness with me.
Our entire lives have been trapped in the sterile halls of the compound. Every moment revolved around her suffering.
No more.
“I’m going to protect you,” I say quietly as I pull the soaked rag over her. “No one will lay a finger on you that you don’t want.”
Her blue eyes flick over my face, then beyond me to the body on the bank.
“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Goosebumps erupt over her arms and her nipples stand in rigid purple beads in the cool air.
What did that half-breed do to her?
Leading her slowly up the bank, her gaze is riveted to the hulking mass.
Her vacant look doesn’t leave even as I drop a spare shirt over her naked form. It’s like a dress on her. Cinching the waist with a spare piece of rope, I wish I had some shoes that would fit her.
“Can you walk?” I gesture remorsefully at her bare feet.
She nods, her lips thin.
I can’t resist pressing my own against her temple. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I saw her again.
But I don’t blame her at all.
She’s a survivor and had to do what she felt was best.
“I missed you, Jen,” I admit, tugging her with me to leave the clearing.
Her steps falter until she pauses, staring behind her with a sense of longing I envy.
Has she ever looked at me that way?
“Did you love him?” I’m confused. In a few short days?
Chewing on her bottom lip, she shakes her head. “No. Addicted would be a better word.”
That makes more sense.
