16. AURORA
Two days later, I’m sitting on the edge of Layla’s bunk, dangling my legs while I hang out with Candy in the small confines of their cell. Layla is off on a double shift, leaving the two of us in a rare moment of semi-privacy.
There’s a different vibe coming off the girl today. Less broken, more hopeful.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” Candy says, bundling up a fresh pile of laundry lint. She looks down at the gray mass in her lap, her fingers moving in a strange, repetitive plucking motion.
“About the fluff?” I ask, nudging her. “Seriously, tell me. Is Dot building a wig? Or a very soft mattress?”
Candy’s eyes dart to the cell door. “It’s just… work, Rory. She wouldn’t want me talking about it.”
What the fuck? I’m going to talk to Taliesin about this. I can’t have Candy being terrified of her supervisor.
She tucks the fluff away. “Forget that, I have something better to tell you.” Her expression shifts to a genuine smile. “I’ve picked it. My new name.”
I smile back. “Finally. OK, don’t tell me, let me guess. Since you’re a Digger now, is it something tough? Like… Hunter? Or Stone?”
She pulls a face. “Stone? Really, Rory? Pebble would be more like.”
“Fair enough,” I laugh. “So, what else? Hmm, something cute then… Bunny? Wren? Ooh, I can totally see you as a Wren.”
“Wren is actually kind of cool,” she muses, then shakes her head. “But no. Guess again.”
“Fine, fine. Is it something really Elite, like Seraphina or Anastasia?” I tease, dodging the pillow she chucks at my head.
“Ugh. Too many syllables,” she says. “And far too posh. Nope, my new name is, drum roll…”
I oblige and beat out a rhythm on the side of the bed.
“Sky.”
I stop laughing and say it out loud. “Sky.” It feels right. “I like it. Why Sky?”
She clambers up the bunk to sit down beside me, her shoulder bumping mine.
“Because, this sounds silly, but it doesn’t disappear.
I don’t want to disappear again. I want to travel, see other places, be free and beautiful and important—at least to myself, and hopefully someone else as well eventually. ”
“Sky,” I repeat, nudging her. “It suits you perfectly, and I hope you know you’re already important. You and Layla are my besties now.”
She beams at me. “Really? Truly?”
“Truly, even though Lay scares the shit out of me sometimes.”
Sky giggles. “Her bark is worse than her bite. I like that she’s fierce. What about Tally? Aren’t you friends with him? You are always together.” She gives me the side-eye. “Or are you more than friends?”
I feel my stomach do a slow, awkward roll. “Definitely not what you’re implying.”
Sky pokes my arm. “I know I’m fucked up about sex and stuff, but I can still want my friend to have romance. The way he looks at you makes it obvious that if you aren’t doing it now, you will be very soon.”
I focus very intently on a loose thread on my jumpsuit. The silence stretches out until it becomes painful.
“Rory?” Sky’s smile falters. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry, don’t be mad.”
Fuck. “I’m not mad, not at all. I mean, I am furious most of the time, but never with you,” I mutter. “And if you want the truth, I’m a little confused about my feelings toward Taliesin.”
What the fuck? Am I sharing?
Drakewards are not sharers.
“I can understand that,” Sky nods. “He’s all alpha-male asshole, and you don’t like to be bossed around. I bet your other boyfriends have all been the gentle, sweet types that you can totally dominate. Am I right?”
Ha. “You are so far off the mark, it’s not funny! I’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been kissed. My father prized my virginity as a prime stock he could trade. I’ve been promised to this old creeper called Thomas Crankshawe when I turn eighteen.”
Sky’s jaw drops. “Shit. Rory. You were sold as well?”
Oh, shit. “Please don’t think I’m comparing my situation to yours, Sky. I’ve never been sexually abused or anything—the exact opposite really. I’ve been locked up so no one could touch me.”
Sky lets out a long, shaky breath. “Gods,” she whispers. “I’d prefer your captivity to mine, but it sucks that both of us have never known any freedom. Honestly, it makes me think you should lose your V card to Tally.”
I’m amazed and so proud of Sky. She refuses to let her trauma destroy her ability to talk about sex, laugh about it.
The girl is so fucking strong.
“Come on, Rory. Bone Tally. What better way to stick it to your dad!”
“Ew, don’t use the phrase ‘stick it to your dad’ in the same sentence as having sex.”
Sky lets out a snort before she starts to cackle. "Oh Gods, you’re right. That sounded way more literal than I meant. Please tell me you won’t think of your father if Tally ever gets you in a horizontal position.”
“Firstly, I won’t be thinking of anything because it’s not going to happen,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “And second off, my asshole-dad is dead anyway.”
Sky is doubled over now, clutching her stomach. "So you can stick it to your dead dad? Shit, Rory. You’re into some really weird stuff. And I’ve seen weird.”
“Stop!” I say, laughing hard. “Don’t make out like I have an incest-necrophilia kink!”
At that exact moment, I hear footsteps at the cell entrance.
Taliesin is standing there, filling the doorway, his arms crossed over his massive chest and an eyebrow arched so high it’s almost lost in his hairline. He looks back and forth between us.
“Incest-necrophilia kink?” he asks in that low rumble that does something treacherous to my belly. “Did I hear that right?”
Sky and I fall into hysterics.
“I guess I interrupted something,” he complains, looking baffled and suspicious. “As long as it’s nothing to do with me, I don’t want to know.”
When Sky opens her mouth, I wrestle her over and silently threaten her with a wagging finger.
“OK, OK!” she grins. I let her sit up again, and we both try to adjust our faces to something more serious.
“Can we help you, Taliesin?” I ask, ignoring the nudge Sky gives me.
Taliesin frowns. “I came to see if you wanted something.”
Fuck my life.
“She certainly does,” Sky giggles.
He rolls his eyes, then holds up a shiv.
“Ooh! For me?”
“Yep, as long as you remember the rules. Don’t stick it in me.”
Shoving a giggling Sky on the shoulder, I leap down, my bruised midriff jarring on the landing. Taliesin steadies me. “Candy seems a lot happier,” he whispers in my ear.
“She is,” I reply. Clay and Imran step into the room as well, so I add them to the introductions. “Everybody—meet Sky. No more Candy.”
Taliesin and Clay just nod, but Imran gives her the sweetest smile. “Nice to meet you, Sky. Beautiful name.”
She flushes, and looks shyly at the boy from under her eyelashes.
Interesting!
The next morning, my humor from the previous day disappears. It could be because the dreams I’d suffered through all night—of being chased by a pack of giant rats, or looking at all the bruises and scratch marks on my body. How the fuck I was giggling with Sky yesterday is beyond me.
Denial?
Avoidance?
Whatever. I just know I wake up angry and hurting.
I hate the finger marks that have bloomed on my arms, my chest. The footprint on my thigh.
Immediately after breakfast, I get Taliesin to show me how to use the shiv.
He makes me stand with my knees slightly bent, his large hand pressing into the small of my back to shift my weight forward. “Tuck your thumb along the side, rather than over the top.”
I keep my fingers cramped around the sharpened toothbrush and lunge.
“It’s not a kitchen knife, Rory,” he tuts.
He steps in close, his chest a solid wall against my back as he wraps his hands over mine.
His palms are calloused and hot, grounding me even as my heart starts to race for a completely different reason.
“Don’t slash. This is about precision. Between the ribs.
Under the jaw. Stabbing a kidney. Slashing will do you no good.
You need to get the job done quick, my Ballerina Butcher. ”
“Then you bring me roses?” I mumble, my breath hitching as I practice the move.
“Only when you get it right.”
My hands cramp, but I keep practicing at the imaginary attacker we’ve tied to the bars. Aka, the sheet.
“Again,” Tally grunts. I can feel the vibration of his voice through my own spine. “You just hit the sternum. You’ll just bounce off.”
I adjust my grip and lunge forward again, but my grip makes the plastic go sideways somehow. Why am I so bad at this? It’s not like I haven’t stabbed someone before.
“You need to focus,” Taliesin sighs. “Look, think of someone you’d like to shiv, and imagine them right there.”
I stop, my chest heaving.
“You picturing your target?” He asks. “It’s not me is it?”
I know he’s joking, but the idea of stabbing Taliesin makes nausea rise in my throat. “No, you’re safe from my attack,” I grumble. “I have a much better target.”
I lunge again.
“Better! Who were you shanking?”
“The old perv I’m contracted to marry when I turn eighteen. Thomas fucking Crankshawe.”
Tally’s face darkens and a low growl rumbles up from his chest. “Excellent. Kill that motherfucker.”
“I tried,” I snap, looking down at the pathetic piece of sharpened plastic. My knuckles are white. “I tried with a steak knife. I got one good strike in, but then…”
“Then?”
I squeeze the shiv until the plastic bites into my palm, the pain a welcome distraction. “His son grabbed me. Held me back so I couldn’t finish the job. If it wasn’t for Francois, his dad would be dead, and I’d be free.”
Tally goes quiet. “No, you wouldn’t,” he says eventually, his voice heavy. “I’m glad the son stopped you.”
“Glad? Are you kidding me?” I whip around to face him, my eyes stinging.
He leans forward, his large hands gently but firmly prying the shiv from my cramped fingers.
He doesn’t let go of my hand. His thumb traces the line of my palm.
“If you’d killed him, Rory, this…” he gestures around the cell, “…would be it for the rest of your life. You’d have escaped that Crankshawe guy, but you’d never be free again. At least now, you get out in a year.”