Until next time, my dearest shadow.
16
THE POISONER
While normally our nighttime rituals were my favorite, tonight, I could not bring myself to enjoy any of them.
Even pleasant aspects of my day were stained with overarching guilt that slowly tightened around my organs until I could not bring myself to eat, to breathe, to think. The journey home was like a march off a cliff, colored by the dread of having to pretend all was well. The time meant for winding down would become a performance once again.
The entire household was in the living room. Most of us huddled by the fire and helped each other get ready for bed. I mindlessly brushed through Phoebe’s hair as she sat next to me on the couch. My lip had taken abuse throughout the day from chewing it, itching to find any loose vials of venom once everyone was asleep.
While in the past my creature would not bother me with others around, it seemed he had outgrown that reservation based on last night’s events. Uneasy was the only way I could describe how the evolution of his habits made me.
I thought my words were enough to sever those ties years ago, but I was clearly wrong. He was obsessed. If he truly thought he had any ownership over me, of course he would come looking. I should have been more careful.
My only wish was for the mistakes of my past to avoid the Nest. Knowing what he was capable of, especially when I ignored him, made the discomfort weigh inside me like steam in a kettle.
I did not tell anyone what happened, not even Phoebe. Edith did not come home.
Maybe it was out of shame that I kept it from them, though I planned to tell them at a more suitable time. Though it was never a good time for bad news, I would rather bear it alone. Just until I could get the situation under control.
The images from the other night haunted my subconscious. In some ways, it was like a mere dream. The all too familiar feeling of trepidation when my body was in his grip, the bruises that formed when his fingers dug into my skin, the sensation of?—
None of that. Banish it from your mind.
“Alina?”
Phoebe was looking at me, as if she had asked me something already.
“What?” I mumbled. “I must have drifted; what did you say?”
“You are quiet. Are you well? You look paler than usual.”
“Yes, I am well. Thrown off by the poor hunting.”
“You are sure?”
“Positive.”
“Could you grab an extra blanket from upstairs for me?”
“Of course.” I nodded, shifting off the couch.
The middle few stairs made a sharp squeak as I put my weight on them during my trudge up the stairs. The light leached from the atmosphere the farther I ventured into the house, the rooms retaining a blue hue from the cool atmosphere outside.
The room Phoebe and I shared was no more gloomy than the others. I sat alone on the bed and gathered the folded blanket on my lap. There were little balls of lint forming from the many uses. I remembered when Adeline made it for us after she was given a loom. It was such a small gesture, but something about a handmade gift made me feel such hominess.
The powder outside the window fluttered and stuck to the glass, a rustling sound scratching as the wind picked up.
The room was a special kind of peaceful. A type of bliss reserved only for the somber.
I laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
No cracks, only a small wet stain.
My heart was heavy, like it beat slowly and hard. It was like when I breathed, I sank deeper into a slow-sinking mud. The same feeling I gleefully ignored when I took my morning dosage and went through with my day. There was no time to feel such things when so many depended on me to have my head on straight. I could only close my eyes and hope to let go.
As my mind danced between my dreams and the room around me, the sound of a summer cicada itched at my consciousness.
