I breathe through the effort it takes to walk over to her and slip my arm around her waist. I don't know the woman who lives in this place. I only know the girl from the silo.
She leans in, cautious, like I might break, and kisses me on the cheek. I turn in to it, take her face in my hands, and kiss her properly.
Her mouth smiles against mine, kissin’ me back without hesitation. I didn't do it as a test, but it is one.
Who are we under this roof? Two lovers? Two friends? Two strangers?
"My god, I've missed that tongue of yours." She whispers this into my mouth, answering my unasked question. Then she pulls back a little. "I wish I could take you upstairs, but the doctorssay you need to stay on the ground floor. So…" She smiles at me. "I've turned the library into your new bedroom.”
The improvised hospital room they've set up is bigger than my entire trailer. Tall windows let in afternoon light, illuminating a space that's been divided into sections—a bedroom area with monitoring equipment, a sitting area with couches, even a dining space. The wet bar in the corner has been converted to a makeshift kitchen.
Mercy talks the entire time they're settling me in, jumping from topic to topic. Her new puppy Puddles. Her bedroom with its own bathroom. The indoor pool in the east wing and the outdoor one out back. There's a chef who makes her whatever she wants for breakfast. And she spends every day in the stables with the horses.
The bribery is so obvious, as is her happiness, my heart goes sad.
"And there's a movie theater downstairs," Mercy says, eyes wide. "With real movie theater seats and popcorn machines."
I don't respond, just watch her bouncin’ around the room, looking healthier and happier than I've ever seen her. The guilt sits heavy inside me.
Is this what money does? Turns scared feral kids into happy children?
Yes, Legion. That's exactly what money does.
The medical team leaves after setting up my treatment schedule. I don't have to stay in bed here, which is something at least. They leave the IV port in my arm for the antibiotics I'll need three times a day, but the current treatment is finished and there are no tubes or wires hooked up to anything.
When I'm finally alone with Savannah and Mercy, I pull back the bandage to show them what's left of the brand. The Badlands B is nothin’ but wound now. If you squint, and useyour imagination, you might still see the shape of a B, but they had to cut away too much dead skin to save it.
"Does it hurt?" Mercy asks, leaning in close.
"Nah." Which is a lie. I can't imagine a time when this brand will ever stop hurtin'. "It just itches now. Feels strange."
Like something foreign is growing under my skin.
Like I'm being unmade.
