“Sullen.” Karia’s voice is like a knife dragging across an open laceration. She does not mean to, but she is making this so much worse.
I lick my lips, keeping my eyes shut tight, as firmly as my fingers digging into the tendons of Cosmo’s throat. I realize his erratic breaths have long gone, and when I hear the floorboards creak at my back, I know it ishimKaria is coming closer for, and notme.
No one has ever chosen me, save in the name of a religion created by a serial killer. Not a prophet, a generous man, a teacher, no one with wisdom. My very own father decided to wreck my entire life, to kill my mother, for the sake of a fuckingmurderer.
I was never worth more than that.
“Please.”Karia’s word scrapes against my ears in the silence of my room.
Please? She’s pleading forhim?
His hands slide up my shoulders, coming tomythroat.
I have my hips pressed to his so he can’t knee me like I did the guard who hurt Karia, and we are far too close. Every line of me is pressed to each muscle of his. My temple is against his own. I cannot feel his breath, because heisn’tbreathing, but I’m sure he can feel mine. The urge tobitehim nearly strangles me like he tries to do, his fingers weak, scrabbling ineffectively at my neck.
I am not used to being so close to anyone, and it does not matter it’s in violence.
My skin crawls and the desire to release him, torun,it is so overwhelming, I think I might faint from the urge of it.
A hand comes to my back.
A light touch, fingertips grazing the top of my spine. I have more words carved into my flesh, and she can see them now.
She can see them.
Idiot. Filth. Maggot.
She can seeme.
I loosen my hold on Cosmo, even though I don’t want to. It’s as if I am compelled. I need my hands to shield myself. My arms to cover what I can.
Cosmo’s ragged, desperate breath is hot on my lips. He sounds like a dying man coming back to life. A vacuum the moment it is turned on.
I splay my fingers over his throat, circling tightly but not choking him.
I don’t open my eyes.
I don’t move.
Karia’s fingers are still against my spine.
We are all three so very close, but I am the only one humiliated. I think of Stein staring down at me. His doctor. The guards. Their laughter. The light in their eyes as I suffered the worst days of my life.
But wasn’t that everyday?
What were the good ones? When I could seeher,on Ritual Drive? When I watched her walk hand-in-hand with Von, or this man in front of me? How pathetic I was.
How pathetic I am.
The urge to hide grows stronger.
I do not want to be seen again.
I do not want tobeagain.
I can’t.
“Look at me,” she says, so softly, never moving, her hand frozen along my spine, probably from repulsion, shock, disgust.
