them. Jonas. I shudder as I
drop my hand, staring through the tears at this person, who must love
him. Once, I assumed the name must be a slaver's mark, but I was
wrong. My name on his lip binds us to each other. At least, in a
different world, where we were free to choose, it bound us to each other.
There is sorrow in the thought—sorrow and loss. The long, painful pull of
losing someone and having no recourse against the grief. But I'm still
not sure if it's her grief or mine. The intensity grows to something so
full I cannot deny it, but then I'm sitting on the edge of my bed rocking with
my arms wrapped about myself, and I'm thinking about Oscar.
That's real. Oscar was real.
I stand up and move to the dresser, allowing my fingers to
slide over the slingshot that rests on the surface. For just a moment, my
mind touches the memory of Matt placing it back in my hands.
The knock on the door makes me jump. I bat the tears
away from my face and turn toward the door just as it swings open.
Miranda sticks her head in. “Just checking on you,”
she says, coming all the way in and leaning on the door. “You know.
Like a friend would.”
"You freak me out when you act like you
care." I make my voice light and cocky, and give her a smirk to go
with it.
It must be convincing because she laughs. “I saw
Neveah,” she says. “Thought you’d want to know. She’s fine.
Same as always.”
I nod, wanting to ask more, but finding myself unable.
I want to see her myself. “Thanks.” I grab my jacket and move
toward her.
She opens the door.
We emerge into the hallway at the same time that Matt is
coming out of his room. "'Morning ladies," he says, glancing at
us before heading toward the bathroom. He's wearing a towel wrapped about
his waist, and nothing else. In the half a second before I look away, I
can't help but appreciate the way his smooth skin is sculpted around an
unexpectedly chiseled torso. Miranda is still gawking at his back as he
makes it to the door. I turn and head down the stairs, and call over my
shoulder flatly, "'Morning."
Miranda catches up with me at the bottom, grinning.
Her cheeks are flushed. "Lucky you."
I level my eyes at her and keep moving toward the front
door. "When I'm queen of the world, I'm going to have your head on a
stick."
"Don't be jealous," she says. "I was
just looking. Besides, he'd give you my head on a stick now if you
asked him for it."
I stop with my hand on the doorknob, glancing sideways at
her. "Hm. Maybe I should go do that."
She rolls her eyes.
"Or," I smile, "if you like him that much,
you could seduce him away from me. I totally won't mind. Promise."
"Are you sure about that?" she asks. "I
saw your face."
I open my mouth to ask how she could possibly have seen my
face when her eyes were glued to Matt, but she's still talking.
"Anyway, Matt could have whatever he wants. And
he wants you . Not me."
"He can't have whatever he wants," I
snap. "That's why he wants it." I turn the knob
and shove the door open, blinking against the strong morning sunlight and the
bitter whip of cold air.
"Maybe you shouldn't play so hard to get, then."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy." I
step out into the morning, immediately wrapping my arms around myself.
Miranda is huffing and puffing behind me, but my foul mood leaves me beyond
caring. Jacob and Taylor materialize from the side of the porch.
Miranda strides away without another word. I watch her back and feel, for
just a moment, a tinge of regret. She's the only thing I have left, and
I'm pushing her away.
I head down the street, not sure where I'm going, but
needing to be moving. There's no pretty label for it or nicer way of
describing it. I'm feeling sorry for myself. And as far as I'm
concerned, I have every right. This life is hell. The only joy I
have ever known has been stolen from me by inhuman hands. All
drop my hand, staring through the tears at this person, who must love
him. Once, I assumed the name must be a slaver's mark, but I was
wrong. My name on his lip binds us to each other. At least, in a
different world, where we were free to choose, it bound us to each other.
There is sorrow in the thought—sorrow and loss. The long, painful pull of
losing someone and having no recourse against the grief. But I'm still
not sure if it's her grief or mine. The intensity grows to something so
full I cannot deny it, but then I'm sitting on the edge of my bed rocking with
my arms wrapped about myself, and I'm thinking about Oscar.
That's real. Oscar was real.
I stand up and move to the dresser, allowing my fingers to
slide over the slingshot that rests on the surface. For just a moment, my
mind touches the memory of Matt placing it back in my hands.
The knock on the door makes me jump. I bat the tears
away from my face and turn toward the door just as it swings open.
Miranda sticks her head in. “Just checking on you,”
she says, coming all the way in and leaning on the door. “You know.
Like a friend would.”
"You freak me out when you act like you
care." I make my voice light and cocky, and give her a smirk to go
with it.
It must be convincing because she laughs. “I saw
Neveah,” she says. “Thought you’d want to know. She’s fine.
Same as always.”
I nod, wanting to ask more, but finding myself unable.
I want to see her myself. “Thanks.” I grab my jacket and move
toward her.
She opens the door.
We emerge into the hallway at the same time that Matt is
coming out of his room. "'Morning ladies," he says, glancing at
us before heading toward the bathroom. He's wearing a towel wrapped about
his waist, and nothing else. In the half a second before I look away, I
can't help but appreciate the way his smooth skin is sculpted around an
unexpectedly chiseled torso. Miranda is still gawking at his back as he
makes it to the door. I turn and head down the stairs, and call over my
shoulder flatly, "'Morning."
Miranda catches up with me at the bottom, grinning.
Her cheeks are flushed. "Lucky you."
I level my eyes at her and keep moving toward the front
door. "When I'm queen of the world, I'm going to have your head on a
stick."
"Don't be jealous," she says. "I was
just looking. Besides, he'd give you my head on a stick now if you
asked him for it."
I stop with my hand on the doorknob, glancing sideways at
her. "Hm. Maybe I should go do that."
She rolls her eyes.
"Or," I smile, "if you like him that much,
you could seduce him away from me. I totally won't mind. Promise."
"Are you sure about that?" she asks. "I
saw your face."
I open my mouth to ask how she could possibly have seen my
face when her eyes were glued to Matt, but she's still talking.
"Anyway, Matt could have whatever he wants. And
he wants you . Not me."
"He can't have whatever he wants," I
snap. "That's why he wants it." I turn the knob
and shove the door open, blinking against the strong morning sunlight and the
bitter whip of cold air.
"Maybe you shouldn't play so hard to get, then."
"Maybe you shouldn't be so easy." I
step out into the morning, immediately wrapping my arms around myself.
Miranda is huffing and puffing behind me, but my foul mood leaves me beyond
caring. Jacob and Taylor materialize from the side of the porch.
Miranda strides away without another word. I watch her back and feel, for
just a moment, a tinge of regret. She's the only thing I have left, and
I'm pushing her away.
I head down the street, not sure where I'm going, but
needing to be moving. There's no pretty label for it or nicer way of
describing it. I'm feeling sorry for myself. And as far as I'm
concerned, I have every right. This life is hell. The only joy I
have ever known has been stolen from me by inhuman hands. All
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