21. Luna #2
He rubs his neck, lips parted as he catches his breath. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t think he’d know what illiterate meant.”
“I think it was cult that set him off.”
Or maybe inbred.
Sawyer’s brows lift. He tips his head to the side and chuckles. “Right… I forgot they don’t like it when you call it that… God, I’m so fucking tired of this place.”
He runs his hand through his hair as he goes to the bed and flops down. White paint clings to the bottom of his shoe.
I look down at the painting. It’s barely smudged; he only grazed it with the top of his shoe. But still, my ears burn and teeth grind as I stare at the imperfection.
I say nothing—a reflex grown in a few short weeks. A reflex I didn’t realize I’d developed until now.
Snarky words meant we went to the training room sooner and stayed longer. The days I kept my mouth shut were the days he typically just fucked me.
Simple. Subtle. Effective.
“Is that my dinner?” I point toward the abandoned plastic bag by the door.
Hand lifting off his eyes, he follows my gaze. “Yep.”
Yep.
“Guess you don’t need it now, though huh? Prince Charming got you covered with…” He peeks at the bowl. “Broth. Yum.”
Sarcastic. Jerk.
I retrieve the plastic bag and sit on the bed, Sawyer’s dirty shoes inches away, dusting the comforter with all the respect of pig.
I pull out the burrito but halt at a thin piece of paper crinkled in the bag. I toss the burrito aside, pull out the paper, and work out the creases while Sawyer dozes with an arm draped over his eyes.
He didn’t even bother to throw away the receipt.
Arrogant, pompous—
“So what did you and Thorne talk about?” Sawyer asks. “He tell you how much he benches?” A chuckle leaps from Sawyer’s mouth, but the smile he rests into is strained. There’s something in his voice that I almost peg as jealousy, but that doesn’t remotely make sense.
“He was just checking on me.”
“Because he’s so sweet.”
A sarcastic smile blooms as his body stretches, his shoes grazing my white dress. I look down. Glare.
Crack.
“He is, isn’t he?”
When Sawyer’s smile falls, it’s like it catches on something in my chest. I feel a tug, a flick on my heart, a tingle in my ear. A warning ingrained—don’t provoke.
Another God forsaken reflex that wasn’t there three weeks ago.
“I mean, he’s exactly the type of person you told me to watch out for. Sympathetic. Kind. If I can get him to fall in love, I’ll be able to get him to do almost anything, right?”
Sawyer sits up. “Not him, Luna. Trust me. That lunatic was born here. Their delusions run deep, and he might seem nice and sympathetic to your situation, but he’s in love with the Head Keeper. You’d be wasting your time.”
Like I’ve been wasting my time with you?
“Well, it shouldn’t be hard to find another sympathizer. You’re doing a great job earning me sympathy with the videos you took.” My voice holds heat that I’m glad he hears. For the first time in days, I don’t feel pathetic as I speak to him.
Note to self: kindness is not the way to Sawyer’s delusional heart.
“Can you imagine how many times he’s jerked it to those?”
My eyes slowly widen as my blood boils, fiery pressure building in my chest. Building, building, building...
“You’re disgusting.”
Sawyer’s lips flatten as humor leaves those sky blue eyes. “It was a joke, Luna.”
“He only watched one for the first time when Aurelius ordered him to give you a new recorder. He wanted to know exactly what it was he was bringing it for, and that…” I stab a finger at the broken pieces of plastic scattered on the floor. “Was his response.”
Sawyer flexes his wrist. “Okay.”
“Not all men are as turned on by sadistic games as you are.”
He blows out a breath while running a finger up the bridge of his nose. He looks ready to leave already.
“Okay, Luna.” He drops his hand and plants his palms on the quilt at his sides.
“You’re right… Thorne’s probably a better man than I am.
You think you can press his empathy button enough for him to let you out of here, go ahead and give it a shot.
Maybe it’ll work out.” He shrugs too forcefully, his frustration making his movements jerky.
“Maybe I will.”
“Or…” His hands grip the quilt as he leans forward. “Maybe his butch-ass girlfriend will skin you the fuck alive. Maybe speaking to Thorne at all is a terrible fucking idea, let alone stroking his fractured ego. You want to hear some stories?”
I laugh as I lift a shoulder. “Why not?”
“For starters, the last girl who looked at Thorne a little too long had her eyes plucked out in front of the entire cult for the crime of ‘gluttony.’ The girl before that mysteriously drowned in the river.”
My lips fall.
“The girl before that—”
“How could you even know this?” I interrupt. “You got here the same time I did.”
He nods slowly, his face so serious, it makes me squirm. “And I made friends. The right friends who tell me useful things like who to stay away from and what not to do to get myself killed. The kind of friend that I’m being to you, right now.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know if it’s because I’m struck or because I’m too angry.
He hasn’t been a friend to me. He’s been a liar. A manipulator.
I can’t even say that he was genuine when he opened up to me the other day. That could’ve been to manipulate me too. This could be to manipulate me. Everything could be to manipulate me.
I’m not sure anymore why he’s doing it.
Sawyer sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His sleeve raises with the movement, revealing a red bracelet I recognize immediately. Thorne has one just like it. He’s wearing it now.
“Look, Thorne’s girlfriend is the one who’s going to be doing your purification thing, and I’m just worried for you. Sorry for freaking out… You don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to.”
The worry crinkling his handsome face looks so authentic, it makes me shiver. My eyes point straight ahead as I try to decide what to address first.
“What do you mean she’s doing my purification thing?” I settle on, my voice low and scared.
Sawyer tenses beside me. He doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, it’s like he distances himself. His voice is different. His emotion vanishes, or more likely, hides within.
“There’s a ritual they do for women like you. I guess they think women from the real world are unclean. So they’re going to … baptize you, kind of. They think it makes you reborn or something and ‘pure.’”
“Reborn?”
Again, Sawyer hesitates. There are things he isn’t saying. Crucial details. And already, I know he won’t give them. He won’t give me anything.
“Yeah, I don’t know exactly what that means… Listen, don’t worry about it okay? Just stay away from Thorne and do what I’ve told you. Make them think you’re here to stay and that you're devoted to their principles. You do that, and you’ll be fine.”
I nod. My teeth dig into my lip.
“Did your ‘friend’ tell you all this?” The pain in my voice is barely audible, and I tell myself Sawyer doesn’t hear it.
“No… I just understand the mission.”
I smile bitterly. “The mission of creating sex slaves.”