For that, I trust him enough to tell him. Besides, I need his help, although I would never say those words out loud.
I explain to him the layout of the house, the connection points of each wing, where Sanford told me the weapons are hidden—I mention the knife under my mattress I found in the urine-soaked room that Karia must have hidden away—and who can be in each room, and why.
He does not apologize for stripping me, and I never expect him to. If he ever mentions it again, in fact, I will slice his lips off.
He juststaresat me, and there is a sinking feeling in my gut that at any moment he will tell me how pathetically stupid I am, and I will be forced to strangle him. But in the end, when I explain what each of us can do—Alivia, Maude, Fleet, and Elliot, too—he doesn’t laugh.
Instead he asks with not some condescension, “Do you play chess?”
I want to roll my eyes. In this house, I likely know more about survival than anyone else. “Klein might have been your father, but he was my tormenter first.”
He swallows, then looks down. His shoulders are tense. It will take him a long time to get over what his father has done. I know that feeling.
I offer no condolence.
Then he just says, as some twisted peace offering, “She loves you.” He meets my eye again. “You don’t believe it, I know.” He doesn’t smile and he doesn’t look away and I wonder if he is talking about himself just as much as me. “But, even though it pains me to say it, she does.”
I turn to look over my shoulder, through the window. I do not want him to see the pressure increase behind my eyes. The tightness in my throat.
I stare at the rolling hills around Haunt Muren in the darkness, threads of early morning light trying and failing to pierce through.
Could we stay here? Her and I? What if this truly wasours?Questions I will not untangle with Cosmo de Actis. We have done enough talking for today.
And as if he thinks so too, he says nothing else before his footsteps carry him away with his guilt.
I am backbefore she wakes. I always want that to be the case.
I don’t think she’s even moved.
When she wakes, there will be war.
But after that, maybe I can make her happy enough to stay.
I watch her breathing, her head on the pillow, and think of all those letters of hers I tucked away inside my own pillowcase.
I read them so much, the paper grew soft enough to tear with my tears.
I wish I could have told your mother when she was still alive that she must have known exactly who you would be before you were born.
You were boring and cruel and quiet and awful and I cannot get you out of my head.
Always unwillingly yours.
Unwillingly. As if she has tried to fight against it as much as I had.
But here we are, together at the end.
I do not want her in the middle of it. I wish to lock her away up here, until it is over.
She will never let that happen.
It’s enough to consume me, that type of love.Willing to bleed and hurt and crawl for me.
“Sullen.” She murmurs my name, her voice thick with sleep.
I cross the room fast, as if I am possessed, and sit on the edge of the bed.
Her fingers find my gloved ones.
