CHAPTER 6
The nightmares came back in full force, and I wake up with a chilling shudder. Cold sweats shatter my body, the dreams and memories mixing into a debilitating concoction, venom seeping beneath my skin.
A feverish itch blooms, turning relentless through my flesh. I scratch at my forearms, determined to bleed the poison out of my skin. Tears I didn’t realize I was shedding blur my vision and the pain… the pain becomes unbearable.
I thought it was hidden, but it’s not—it’s entombed. Burrowing deeper and deeper, sinking its claws so it can find a permanent home in the fabrics of my being. I can’t reach; I can’t rip it out.
So, I dig my fingernails deeper, breaking the skin on a tearful wince, hoping I can bleed it out. Only, it itches more. It hurts more.
I need more!
Tears of frustration stain my cheeks, and I swallow in a bellow at the shame plaguing me. Only one thing will fulfill this need, scratch the relentless itch and dilute these nightmares. And I cry harder because that one thing I crave is exactly what those bastards injected me with.
But… it kind of helped then. Maybe now, it could keep the nightmares out of my living world.
Maybe it will help.
Make me forget.
The shame. The feel of him. The loss of control. The disappointment I am. How I failed her.
I have to forget. Even if for a few hours. I want to be back in that place where my body isn’t mine, where I am… free.
Reality sets in, and the inner pain quiets in favor of the outside one, and in the faint morning light, I see what I’ve done.
“Oh my god.”
I jump to my feet, realizing that I fell asleep on the sofa, and run to the bathroom. My inner forearms are scratched badly enough that I’m bleeding, stinging when I run them under the cold water.
At least I wasn’t in bed with Maya.
My muscles still when I catch the first glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look exactly like I feel—a failure. Maya’s smile and laughter filters through my mind, emotions I didn’t give her, but these people we now live with. I’m not taking care of her—they are. I have done nothing to contribute to her happiness.
Did I really deserve to leave that warehouse alive? Is there a point for my presence here?
Looking down at my forearms, blood seeps out of the jagged scratches; their ugliness sure does fit on my skin. I shake my head on a sharp exhale and start rummaging through the cupboards for some gauze or anything to cover the evidence of my nightmares. Or better yet, of that searing need begging from inside my veins. I find a small basket stocked up with all sorts of first aid stuff and skip the antiseptic and whatever else I should do to tend to my skin, going straight for the roll of gauze. I make quick work of wrapping it around my forearms and hurry to go throw a long-sleeve on before Maya and Katya wake up and see me.
Living here for free makes me feel like a leech, so I’ve been trying to pull my weight as much as I can. Washing, cleaning, cooking, whatever needs doing, even if Katya keeps telling me off. Now, I’m about to pull some oats out of the cupboard for some oatmeal, but my phone pings on the counter. I twitch at the unfamiliar noise.
“What the…? Who has this number?”
Reluctant, I grab it and a new text flashes on the screen.
Hey! It’s Loreley. Katya gave me your number. Morri and I are going out for breakfast. Come join us. Pick you up in fifteen?
I look around the quiet space, bewildered as I scratch the back of my head.
This is wrong, I can’t just leave my sister here… alone. Since we’ve been brought here, I’ve always been around, even passed out in the other room, I was around. No, I can’t go. I have to be here with Maya.
But the pacing continues. As does the scratching.
What if I go, though? Is this something I can do? Just… go out for breakfast? On my own, without Maya?
God, this is strange.
I’m on my eighth tour around the kitchen island, and the idea sounds better and better with each one.
“You okay?”
“Ah!” I jump, pressing a palm to my heaving chest.
“Sorry, sorry.” Katya puts her hands up in apology.
“My fault, I was distracted.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, it’s just…” I sigh, realizing I’m worrying her with my reaction. “Loreley texted me. I guess you gave her the number. She invited me for breakfast.”
“Go,” she says before I even finished the last syllable.
“I can’t just—Maya is—”
“She’s fine. I’ll stay with her here. I have nothing planned today anyway.” She cuts me off.
“Katya, I know I shouldn’t have any reasons to be uncomfortable with this, any rational ones anyway, but… Look, after everything her and I have been through, the only time we’ve spent apart in the last two years was when she went to school and when we got separated in that container. That’s it. Leaving her…”
“I understand. I’m not going to force trust on you. I can’t do that. But sometimes you have to listen to your gut. If yours tells you to keep your guard up around us, around me, then fair enough. Just make sure that’s the reason you’re doing it. All I can tell you is that none of us are here to hurt you.”
I know. Rationally I know all they’ve done has been more than generous. Selfless too. Maybe they’re keeping me around in the hopes that I’ll remember something useful about the men who took us, which is fair enough. But if that was the only reason, we wouldn’t be sleeping in Katya’s soft bed and expensive sheets every night.
I have to try this. Let go, if only for a bit.
Perhaps later on I will be able to go out on my own and seek something more.
It’s my birthday today, after all.
I look at the phone and my fingers fly over the letters.
I’ll be downstairs. Thank you.
* * *
“This one would work so well on you.” Loreley holds up against my front a blouse with a deep V neckline. It’s in a goldish color that would, indeed, look great with my skin tone.
Morrigan cocks her head as she looks in our direction, but she seems more focused on my face rather than the blouse.
“I don’t think it’s a winner, Lu,” she says.
“Why not? It looks lovely.” Loreley pauses and looks up from the blouse to me. “Oh, my bad, I think you’re right.”
I stifle a laugh because the interaction between these two has been both hilarious and sweet all morning. They fit together like they share DNA, not just a close friendship.
They took me out for breakfast at the cutest café in the center of Queenscove. A narrow little building nestled in-between two large, elegant facades, and it didn’t really look like much. Only, as we passed through the small, cozy space, I quickly found that the attraction of the place wasn’t inside, but at the back. We passed through the back door and found ourselves in a stunning enclosed courtyard where every inch of the walls were covered in trailing plants and two large trees shaded the space.
Maybe I was imagining it, but that café, the atmosphere, really helped me be more comfortable with the situation. The fact that Katya has been sending me photos of her and Maya might have also had something to do with it.
We had a surprisingly enjoyable time. They didn’t push me to talk but involved me in every conversation. They didn’t ask intrusive questions or urged me to open up about what happened to Maya and me. They did ask a bit about my family and how we ended up on the streets, however they were fine when I decided to keep it vague, and simply tell them that we were staying with our mom, and she died.
Telling them the whole story would pose too many questions and reveal more than I’m comfortable with right now. My aversion to what and who they are as well.
Either way, they didn’t push, even as they could clearly tell there was more to everything, and I appreciated that.
Afterward, they dragged me around town, showing me all sorts of interesting places, including a quirky little bookstore that seemed to have been there for at least a hundred years. I went inside to find a couple of books for Maya, and that’s when I caught sight of that shiny little black bank card again. Same one that Maddox tried to give me, only now it was in Morrigan’s hand as she paid for the books.
She gave me a look that told me not to dare protest, and I kept my mouth shut. I think that if I do decide to buy anything from the department store we’re currently in, I’ll see that card again.
Will she try to slip it in my pocket when we leave?
Will I protest?
Loreley puts the blouse back on its rack and turns, stopping to look at me. “This is not you, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“All of this”—she waves around the clothing racks and shelves—“is not your style, is it?”
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I can’t afford to be picky. “I’m not really fussy. I’m okay with what I have.”
“That was not the question, Evie.”
Evie…that sounded rather sweet.
Morrigan hooks her arm around mine and gently drags me away from the pastel-themed shelves.
“Come on, dare to dream a little. If you could have anything, what would it be?” she asks.
If I could have anything, I would buy it for Maya. Not me. There’s no guarantee for how long I would have everything,because just like our mom, it could be taken away in the blink of an eye.
“Anything.” Loreley joins in and grabs my other arm.
I sigh, finding that there’s no escaping this. Yet, I don’t actually want to. Maybe I could dream a little.
“Black,” I say.
“Black?” Morrigan asks.
“And really dark greens, teal, and purple.”
“Oh.” Her eyes sparkle.
“Fishnets and platform Doc Martens.”
“Hmm.” Loreley says with a cheeky smile, and I swear I can hear cogs spinning in that beautiful head of hers.
“Leather, velvet, and oversized sweaters.”
“Now we’re talking.” Morrigan tightens her hold.
“We can definitely do leather.” Loreley joins in, that cheeky grin turning down-right devious.
“You should see our collection. Though it’s probably a different vibe,” Morrigan says, laughing.
“I’ve never actually worn anything like that. Never had the opportunity, but it’s the style I’ve always admired. Dark, rock on the side of gothic, moody,” I explain.
“I love that. I can honestly see it on you,” Loreley says.
“I think we should,” Morrigan adds. “Come on, I know where to take you.”
“Honestly, you don’t have to. I can’t buy anything anyway, but I also don’t need to, it’s all good. Really,” I argue, tugging them back uselessly.
“It’s only a few doors down from here, and you don’t have to buy anything,” she continues as we exit the department store and turn right. “And if it’s money you’re worrying about—don’t. Seriously, you have to stop that. None of us are going to allow you to struggle or feel bad because you can’t buy your sister two books or some clothes for yourself. I get it, it feels like shit, but it’s not your fault you were kidnapped, or that you’re like two thousand miles away from home, or that you can’t pull money out of your ass. You’re here because The Sanctum wants to help you, just like they helped all the others.”
“Hey,” Loreley argues.
“I know, I know, you’re not part of The Sanctum. That’s not the point here. The point is that we are the ones offering to help you, you are not taking advantage of us. Okay?” Morrigan finishes just as we turn another right into a side street with smaller, quainter shops.
“I appreciate it. I really do.”
I’m prepared to argue against it again, but I realize that it just means that I will be having the same debate later. I know what’s stopping me, and it’s not just my ego, but the provenance of this money I’m being offered and the fact that I’m still not convinced that it comes with no strings attached.
“I’m used to taking care of my sister and I on my own. This is difficult to adjust to. Harder to accept.”
“We can start small, right about now.” Morrigan halts us in front of a small storefront, black baroque style woodwork framing the window and the glass-paneled door.
The window display looks like it might just be the store of my dreams. Platform boots, combat boots, lace-ups, leather skirts and thick, dark lace and velvet, cozy knitted sweaters, and some sexier things I would never dare to buy. Maybe.
Damn…
They don’t have to drag me into this one, I walk in willingly.
“I understand it’s hard. Lulu had to beg me to accept the apartment she gave me in her building when I had no money of my own to move out of my parents’ house, after university,” Morrigan says.
Loreley has an entire apartment building? If she’s not part of The Sanctum, what exactly does she do for work?
“I thought you live with Vincent in the woods.”
“Our situation is a little different. Our marriage is quite new and let’s just say it was not planned. But the apartment happened before this, and it’s still mine.” She starts looking through the clothing racks, pulling a myriad of items out as we move through the store and showing them to me for approval.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I apologize.
“No, don’t worry. It’s no secret. But I just wanted to tell you that in a small way, since our situations are different, I do understand that accepting help is hard on the soul. God knows I had to make a deal with the devil just to justify accepting help.”
Loreley snickers at that, and I narrow my brows.
“She’s referring to her hubby. He’s The Serpent… and he calls her his Little Eve. Get it?” the blonde woman shakes her head in mock disapproval. “They did make an actual deal… crossroads and all.”
Well, someday I will pry a little more to find out the whole intriguing story.
“I want to do this for myself,” I say.
“You will. But you can’t expect it to happen right away. You have some serious healing to do.” Morrigan hands me the clothes I nodded to in approval. “Try them on.”
“I’m not buying all of these.” I hold the items like they burn me.
“You don’t have to. Just try them on. At least now you know where the store is,” she says, shrugging.
Before I close the dressing room door, I turn to her and Lulu. “It’s not stubbornness, by the way. Getting back on my feet is more about Maya and my responsibilities back in Fleeton than it is for myself. I will search for a job and start saving as soon as I figure out the logistics about my sister.”
I close the changing room door before either of them can continue this conversation. There’s no debating this plan. Pulling my clothes off, I’m happy when I notice the gauze is still neatly in place and there’s no blood seeping through from the shallow wounds. The first thing I try on is a pair of tight black jeans and a thin, oversized knitted sweater.
“Childcare for Maya can be arranged.” Morrigan raises her voice behind the door and says, “I believe that a certain mother of the group would be happy to help. But you can also enroll her in school here.”
I know she’s referring to Mamaw June and I don’t disagree.
“I want to enroll her, but I can’t.” I crack the door and peek through so I can whisper, “She was enrolled in Fleeton under a slight misspelled name. Intentionally, of course. But that doesn’t mean that CPS, and probably the police if the school alerted them of a missing child, couldn’t make the connection. More importantly, I don’t have custody of her yet, and I won’t risk going on the radar until then.”
“I think all that can be sorted. I’m sure The Sanctum has some resources at their disposal,” Loreley says in a lowered tone.
I’m not sure what she means by that, and as intriguing as it sounds, accepting more help from them is off the table. At least until I’m convinced it doesn’t come at a cost. No matter what, it has to start with custody, and I can’t even begin to fathom how incredibly difficult that will be.
“A job can be arranged too. I could always use the extra help,” Loreley adds.
“Maddox and Finnigan will kill us if we bring her in Metamorphosis,” Morrigan counters, as I close the door back up, to try on more clothes.
I scowl at the sound of that. What does Finnigan have to do with this decision? I can do whatever I want to do. But, what’s Metamorphosis and why shouldn’t I be there?
“Christ, babe, no. I meant the café,” Loreley says, laughing.
“Aaah. Okay, yeah, that makes more sense.”
“That’s kind of you, but it’s okay. I’m sure I will find something,” I say.
“It’s up to you. The offer is there.”
Loreley basically offered me a job. Just like that. Though accepting it wouldn’t be any different from taking their money.
Or maybe I’m overthinking this too. After all, Loreley isn’t part of The Sanctum, is she?