48. Forty Five
Forty Five
Eden
The pages of my sketchbook bend as I thumb through them, softened from months of use. Almost filled, only a few are blank. I fold my last project away and begin to sketch an outline. What it will be, I’m not sure yet. The pencil has a mind of its own as it curves along the paper, a blur of lead.
With my legs tucked beneath me, I lean over the page. Hair obscuring my face, I push the damp locks over my shoulder. The only light source is Creed’s beside lamp, making the page nearly indiscernible.
The creak of the door alerts me of a presence. Expecting Creed back from his shower, I’m surprised to see Cecil leaning against the door jamb.
Peeking down at my drawing, I cringe internally at the progress I’ve made. In shades of scribbled gray, it’s a haphazard depiction of a girl on her knees. Face contorted in anguish, her mouth open in an eternal scream. Slowly, as not to cause suspicion, I close the book.
“How are you feeling?” He rumbles, taking a step further into the room.
With a shrug, I sign a simple, “Okay.” Which is the truth. I’ve surpassed the point of being upset. I’m nervous for those in the Resistance, and hopeful that the loss of life will be minimal.
I’ve come to accept that some things have to happen.
Fated.
His head cocks to the side, and the way his eyes roam over my figure has heat creeping over my cheeks.
“Are you afraid?” He’s standing a foot from the bed now, his figure looming over me in the soft light. It casts a halo around him, and I can’t help the way my lips curl into a soft smile.
“No,” I reply. “Are you?”
There’s a flicker of emotion. Just there, in the quiver of his jaw and the twitch of his hand.
He doesn’t respond, instead dropping to his knees at the bedside.
Warm fingers close around my ankles, and he pulls me closer until my legs dangle on either side of him.
Warmed hands travel up and over my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
When he reaches my face, his caress softens, fingers barely floating over my features. I can’t help the flutter of my eyes.
A brush of air against my lips has me instinctively leaning forward.
“Not for myself.” The words come out as a hushed confession, and my heart aches.
Inching back, I card my fingers through his thick hair, smoothing the wrinkle of his brow beneath my thumb.
He leans into my touch, the sincerity in his eyes making him appear so innocent, so boyish.
With a nod of understanding, I close the distance and press my lips to his.
I want to tell him that I love him, that it will be okay, but I’m worried I’ll only scare him away.
And my time with him is already fleeting.
The squeal of the bathroom faucet extinguishes our flame like a sudden wind. He pushes to his feet.
Before he exits the room, he leans over me and presses his lips to my hairline. Tears float in my eyes, and I’m almost ashamed for him to see them. He’ll misunderstand—think I was lying when I said I wasn’t afraid.
I try to wipe at my eyes, but he’s quicker, and he grips my chin in his fingers.
“Now that I have you,” he begins, eyes boring into mine. “There is no person, no thing, that can take you from me. That is your Fate, Eden. That is ours.”
“You’re not even trying.” Hit.
“Yes, I am!” Hit.
“Well, try harder.” Hit.
“I am!” Hit.
The last blow lands on my temple, and the world somersaults. There’s a ringing in my ears as I hit the ground. Senses gone fuzzy, they clear just as Cecil storms over and throws his hands up.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Sylvie rolls her eyes, turning her back on him and taking a step towards me. She snaps her fingers, and like a well trained dog, I push onto wobbling legs.
“She’s fine,” she replies drolly, lifting her arms in offense once more. My hands immediately fly up to protect myself, but Cecil grips Sylvie’s elbow before she can come at me.
As fast as a striking snake, she spins and jerks from his hold. “Don’t you touch me.” Her words are no more than a hiss, and though it’s not directed at me, even I blanch at her ferocity.
Cecil’s not one to back down.
“You clocked her in the face. That’s not how you train someone,” he retorts, lips pulled back in a snarl. The cut off t-shirt he wears clings to his muscular frame, making him all the more intimidating. Sylvie doesn’t so much as blink.
“If you had it your way, she wouldn’t train at all. Do you think that the Brothers will be gentle? Avoid her pretty face?” She laughs, looking at me. Her mouth is pulled back into a smile, but her gaze cuts like a blade. “No. They’re going to gut her the first chance they get.”
The visual she painted was plenty graphic, and I clutch at my stomach to stave off the sudden urge to vomit. Catching sight of the soon-to-be quarrel, Creed rushes over, half eaten granola bar hanging from his mouth.
“What’s going on?” He asks, but no answer comes. The pair are too busy staring each other down, and I’m too nervous to lift a finger.
“They won’t get that chance,” Cecil says vehemently. “She can protect herself. You saw it for yourself, with Jasper.” My anxiety piques at the mention of the man I injured. I haven’t seen him since, and no one had uttered his name until now.
Sylvie wipes sweat from her brow with the heel of her hand and releases a snort. “You mean right before she fainted? Yeah, a whole lot of good that will do when we’re wildly outnumbered. At this rate, she’s useless.”
I have half a mind to be offended, but I’m not.
She’s right.
Sylvie approaches until they’re toe to toe. It reminds me of that day I caught them kissing, except now she looks like she’d prefer to take a bite right out of him.
“You don’t like the way I train? Fine. Let’s switch it up. Why don’t we put that gift of hers to the test?”
Fingers brush my wrist, and I turn to see Creed inclining his head toward the truck. He’s giving me an escape, but my feet are rooted to the ground.
“Are you nuts? You know what she’s capable of.”
“No, actually, I don’t. And I don’t think she does, either.”
Suddenly, her attention is on me, and I wonder if it’s too late to flee.
“It’s up to you, Eden. We can continue to pretend like you’re capable of protecting yourself, or we can find out once and for all.”
I’m at odds. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if people die and I could have protected them, is that any better?
What would my mother have done?
Cecil steps around her, approaching me. His hands lift like he might touch me, but one glance from Creed has his arm dropping back down to his side.
“No one expects this of you.” His voice is low, patient. “She doesn’t understand.”
Sylvie scoffs from behind him, hand on a cocked hip. Cecil watches me, as does Creed, but I pay them no mind. I stare at Sylvie until her eyes make their way over to mine, and she raises a brow at me. It’s a challenge.
“I’ll do it.”
Sylvie’s face stretches into maybe the first real smile I’ve seen from her. Meanwhile, Creed grimaces and Cecil’s nostrils flare.
“You’re sure?” He asks, eyes searching mine.
“I have to try,” I insist, motioning toward all of those training around us. “Everyone else is.”
His eyes soften. With a nod, he mutters an “alright”, then rolls his neck on his shoulders. Taking a breath, his posture stiffens until he looks every bit the emotionless man I first met.
“At least we all know sign language, because she’s about to burst every ear drum out here,” he announces. A gleeful giggle escapes Sylvie, and my insides turn to mush.