I woke before dawn.
I stiffened when I realized I lay in someone’s arms, but when I lifted my head to see Trey still sleeping next to me, my entire body relaxed. I watched him for a while and my heart felt raw, like an exposed nerve. I’d never met anyone like him. I’d never struggled so hard to keep my distance. Yes, he was handsome, but he was also kind and gentle and patient—so patient.
I wanted to stay here until he opened his eyes. I wanted those beautiful eyes to warm at the sight of me like they always did, despite how much I pushed him away. I wanted him to smile and pull me tighter and kiss me.
You gonna do this again? You know how this ends, Wolf warned.
I tried to block them out, but Wolf seemed to release the memories with his words. A gentle touch against my skin, fevered kisses stolen in the cool dark desert, a secret smile offered across the bonfire, a fragile hope stirring in my chest, and then nothing but blood and horrifying screams and the tears that streamed down my face as I begged, begged, Juck to spare him.
My spine locked up. I wanted to scream at Wolf to shut up again, but I couldn’t. He was right. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t watch the life fade from those brown eyes because of me. I’d taken this too far, and now I had to fix it. Gods, how could I fix it? Nothing I’d tried had worked so far, and I could only think of one other option.
I had to make him hate me.
The grief that swept over me physically hurt, but I forced myself to bear it.
Numbly, I slid out of Trey's arms. He mumbled something and rolled over but didn't wake. I shoved my feet in my boots and cracked the door open just enough to squeeze through. The morning bell hadn't rung yet, but people were up and making their way toward the canteen. I pulled my hood up over my head and fell in line. As I approached the canteen, the bells rang, and people began filing inside. I'd never shown up here before. Sam had been bringing my food to the clinic since that first day. I followed the crowd inside, glancing around.
The canteen was a long rectangular building. Inside there were rows and rows of wooden tables and benches. At the front was a large window where people stood handing out food. Behind them, an enormous kitchen stretched out. I slipped into the line and shuffled forward with the crowd until I reached the window. A man I’d never seen before handed me a warm tin foil packet without even looking up. I took it along with a crooked metal fork. Then I moved out of the way, searching around the room until I found him.
Zip sat talking and laughing with a bunch of similarly giant muscled men. I'd seen him around a few times since I'd healed him. He and his friends were rough and crude and prone to getting into stupid fights, but folks stayed out of their way. Most people didn't mess with them. So I took a breath and made my way over to sit next to him. The whole table went silent, staring at me in surprise, but Zip's face broke into a wide grin.
“You change your mind about that drink?” he asked.
“Yeah, I did,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as dead as it felt.
He threw a brawny arm covered in tattoos around my shoulders. A leather tie pulled his dark hair back from his face. He had deep-set eyes under bushy eyebrows and a thick beard. The weight of his arm felt suffocating, but I forced myself to bear it.
“Glad to hear it.” The smugness in his voice made me bristle.
“Bones?”
All of us looked up to see Trey standing at the end of the table. His eyes narrowed on Zip’s arm around me, his jaw tight. A few paces behind him, Mac and Griz stood with narrowed eyes.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
I forced my expression to stay neutral. “Yeah, fine.”
Zip’s arm tightened around me, and he grinned toothily at Trey. “You heard the doc.”
Trey’s face darkened. He gave me a closer look, obviously trying to find some sort of distress in my expression. I hoped none of the turbulent emotions in my chest were showing on my face. I raised an eyebrow.
“You need something, Trey?” I asked.
A muscle jumped in Trey's jaw, but he just shook his head and strode away. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they all went and sat at another table. I could feel their eyes on me, but I ignored them. I desperately wanted to shove Zip's arm off me, but instead, I unwrapped my tin foil package and took a small bite of the eggs and potatoes.
“So, you wanna grab a drink tonight?” Zip asked.
I took another small bite, making him wait. “Sure.”
Zip’s grin widened. “I’ll pick you up after the dinner bell, Doc.”
I made an affirming sound, and when I didn’t say anything else, the men’s conversation resumed.
They were all loggers, I discovered as I listened, which explained the muscles. They went outside the wall armed with their axes and brought back wood for building and burning. I tried to keep from looking too interested about groups going outside the wall.
I managed to eat over half of my breakfast. Sam is gonna be so proud.
Irritation flooded me at the thought that just popped into my head. Why the fuck would it matter what Sam thought?
Once they were close to finishing up their food, I slid out from under Zip’s arm.
“See you later, then.”
As I strode away, I pretended not to hear the hoots and hollers coming from his buddies. I made it maybe five paces outside before Trey appeared at my side, and I steeled myself.
“The hell was that about?” he asked.
I gave him a sharp look. “What?”
He glared at me, that muscle jumping in his jaw again. “You know what I’m talking about.”
I kept striding through the hold. “I don’t think it’s any of your damn business, Trey.”
He grabbed my arm, forcing me to come to an abrupt stop. His eyes were dark. “Bones, last night—”
I jerked away, glaring right back. “Meant nothing.”
The hurt that rippled across his face hit me straight in the heart. “Nothing?” he echoed. “You’re really gonna tell me that meant nothing?”
"You took advantage, and I don't want it to ever happen again." I put as much spite and malice into the lie as possible, and he took a step backward like I'd slapped him. I followed, stepping into his space.
“I asked you—” he tried to say, his voice rough.
“Don’t. Ever. Do that again,” I hissed.
I didn't wait for his response, I just turned on my heel and strode away. My throat ached, trying to hold back tears, but I kept seeing the hurt in his eyes. The guilt and shame threatened to drown me, but I would rather he hated me for being a total bitch than watch him die. I managed to keep it together until I got to the clinic where I climbed up to the loft, sat in the corner again, and let myself cry for a few minutes, big ugly sobs shaking my shoulders. But after a few minutes, I forced myself to get up and go wash my face. I didn't deserve to grieve losing him any longer than that.
When I reached the sink I stopped and stared at the wall. A new mirror hung over the sink. It had a little shelf attached to the bottom and on it sat a tiny green glass bottle with a dandelion in it.
My eyes burned again so I washed my face, letting the ice-cold water soothe my swollen eyes. I stared at my reflection after I toweled off my face, avoiding the flower. My red, puffy eyes stared back at me. My face had filled out more since I'd studied my reflection in Clarity's mirror. I looked healthier—well, less sickly. The swelling around my right eye had gone down, leaving an ugly yellow bruise. Trey's neat stitches still held the gash in my head together, but I would be able to remove them in a few days. I turned my head to the side, examining the lighter bruise on my jawline, before meeting my own eyes again. I tried to see the ten year old girl I’d once been, but there was no trace of her in my hollow green eyes and bruised face.
When the first patient came in the door, I got a glimpse of Trey sitting outside. He stayed outside the whole day, both of us pretending not to notice each other. I watched the sun move across the sky with an increasing sense of dread. Too soon the bell rang for dinner. I didn’t go, my stomach rolling uneasily. When the door opened, I jumped, but Sam stood there with a steaming mug of broth and my dinner ration.
“Hey.” He moved into the clinic and set my food on the exam table, then stood there with his arms crossed.
I ignored the food, picking up the mug and sipping it. The warm broth helped calm my stomach.
“I was surprised to see you at the canteen this morning,” he said, his voice suspiciously casual.
I didn't say anything, shame cutting through me that he witnessed me treating Trey like shit.
“You still want me to bring your food here?”
“I can get it myself.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Didn’t Zip try to hit you when you healed him?”
“That was Blaze.”
“Right, my bad.”
I wished he would leave, but he just stood there and stared at me.
“Do you need something?” I snapped.
“I’m just tryin’ to figure out if you went and found the first big, ugly hunk of muscle you saw or if I’m supposed to believe you actually like Zip?”
“It’s none of your fuckin’ business.” I glared at him.
“It’s my fuckin’ business when it involves my best friend.” He glared right back, his voice angry.
I dropped my eyes and took a big drink of my broth, hoping it would wash down the lump in my throat. None of them could hate me as much as I hated myself.
“What the fuck are you doing, Bones?” His sharp voice cut through me.
The door crashing open saved me, and Zip’s massive form filled the doorway. I set the mug down and noticed Sam had one hand on the gun at his hip. I stepped in front of him, blocking him from Zip’s view as I walked to the door. Zip seemed like the type to take that kind of threat seriously.
Behind Zip I could see Trey sitting in the chair, watching with narrowed eyes. I ignored him as I stepped out with Zip and pretended I didn’t feel his eyes boring into my back as we left.
We went to Zip's favorite dive, a grungy shack with "Mootzie's" over the door. Zip ordered two mugs of moonshine, a bitter brew that burned down my throat and into my empty stomach. It seemed like all the loggers were crowded inside, and they greeted Zip raucously. Soon everything grew blurry around the edges. Zip laughed next to me, an arm wrapped around my waist. He ordered us another round. Then another. After the third, I realized I didn't care that Zip's hands were all over me. It felt nice, not caring. Gods, how long had it been since I'd been drunk?
Zip and I got separated for a bit when the dive began to fill up with people. I made my way over to the bar to get another drink.
“Bones?”
I turned to see Hawk, the leader of the other Safeguard crew. I’d stitched up a small wound on his arm a few days ago.
“Hey,” I said, and I must’ve sounded a lot more friendly than normal judging by the surprised look on his face.
“I was hoping to see you again.” The surprised look turned into a flirtatious smile.
“You better not be bleeding.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Not bleeding.” He held his hands up in surrender, laughing.
“Good ’cause I’m off duty.”
He stepped closer, scanning my bruised face. “Damn, I saw the newsboard but—”
An arm snaked around my ribs and pulled me back until I was pressed up against a broad chest.
“Hey, Hawk,” Zip said, his voice a low warning.
The realization dawned on Hawk’s face, the flirtatious smile vanishing. “Hey, Zip.”
“Bones, you want another drink?” Zip asked.
“Have a good night, you two,” Hawk said before vanishing back into the crowd.
"I don't share, Doc," Zip said low into my hair, the threat clear. "Now c'mon, I'll get you another drink."
I went with him, letting him hold onto me like he feared someone would snatch me away. I hated it, but I knew how to play this role. I’d wagered he would be jealous and possessive, which meant if I was with Zip, nobody would mess with me either.
Well, except for Zip.
I practically chugged my next drink.
Zip started playing a game of cards with me perched in his lap. As I glanced over Zip’s shoulder, I met flinty grey eyes and froze. Mac and Griz sat across the room at a table. They each had a drink in front of them, but both of them watched me with narrowed eyes. I looked away, my temper rising. Gods, why couldn’t they just leave me alone?
Zip laid down his cards and swore when he lost again. Even with my dulled senses, I could tell a fight was brewing, and I didn't want to patch him up again.
“C’mon, Zip,” I caught his face to get his attention, “let’s go.”
Zip's bleary gaze landed on me, startled like he'd forgotten I was even there. A wicked smile curled under his beard.
“Keep yer cards, Blaze,” he slurred, standing. “I got better things to do.”
I slid off his lap when he stood, but then he grabbed me and jerked me up into his arms to kiss me hard. Blaze and his buddies jeered and heckled him, but Zip just pulled back with a grin and steered us toward the door, his hand on my ass. Mac and Griz watched us go. I pretended not to see them.
Zip led me out of the dive and then roughly pressed me up against a shack, his lips hard and demanding against mine. The moonshine made it easy to surrender as his hands roamed down my body. Gods, I hoped Mac and Griz hadn’t followed us out. I forced my thoughts away from them as I dug my nails into Zip’s shoulders hard enough to make him growl. I didn’t want him to be gentle. For once I wasn’t trying to forget about other rough hands. I wanted to forget the gentle ones that had held me last night. I didn’t want to think about Trey. I didn’t want to think at all.
I woke up with a start.
Next to me, Zip snored, his naked body half draped over mine. I didn't recognize the tiny shack I'd woken up in, and I scanned the room. There wasn't much to see, a few pieces of homemade wooden furniture, a dirt floor, and the pile of furs we were laying on. I slid out from under Zip, waves of nausea rolling over me. My head pounded as I collected my clothes. There were several new bruises on my body. I hadn't wanted gentle, and from the bits and pieces I could remember, I’d gotten my wish. Hopefully, he'd been too drunk to notice the brand on my chest.
I dressed as quickly and quietly as I could manage. Thank the gods, Zip didn’t even stir. When I stepped outside, the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet, but the light sent stabbing pains through my head. I made it a few steps before puking into the frosty grass.
Wolf stayed silent in my head. I debated poking at him, demanding he express his disapproval, but I couldn’t find the energy. I stumbled back to my clinic, stopping to retch a few more times. Gods, what did Mootzie put in that shit? When I opened the door to the clinic, my heart skipped a beat in my chest at the sight of Trey sitting on the chair by the door, still dressed and awake. I forced myself to continue inside. He stared at me as I toed off my boots, his jaw tight.
“You look like shit,” he said.
I flashed a vulgar hand signal as I went around him to collapse onto my bed. The silence felt full of tension. I wished he would leave.
“Why you doin' this, Bones?” he finally asked.
I swallowed hard, refusing to lift my face from the lumpy mattress. I needed him to be mad. I could deal with mad. I could not deal with the hurt in his voice.
“Go away,” I mumbled.
“You gotta know,” Trey continued like I hadn’t even spoken, “dammit, Bones, you gotta know I care about you. I’m sorry you feel like I took advantage of you. I was trying real hard to make sure you didn’t—”
“Go. Away.” I lifted my head enough to spit the words at him.
He stared me down. “You wanna know what I think?”
“No.”
He continued anyway, "I think you let me in just a little bit, and now you're pushing me away ’cause you're scared."
“You’re wrong.”
“I don’t believe you—” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.
“What? You think you’re special ’cause I saved your life and let you into my bed? Well, you’re not. Now leave me the fuck alone!”
In the silence, he stared at me, hurt and anger replacing the warm kindness I'd grown so used to seeing on his handsome face. I held his gaze, eyes blazing. Finally, he just stood and let himself out. I collapsed back onto my mattress and swallowed the bitter tears aching in my throat.
I don’t care, I repeated in my head like a magic spell from a storybook. Maybe if I said it enough times it’d come true. I don’t care.
It felt like I'd just closed my eyes when someone shook me roughly awake. I jolted, looking up to see Mac glaring down at me.
“Madame wants you,” he said.
Fuck.
I crawled out of bed, my stomach churning for more reasons than just being hungover as shit. Mac leaned against the exam table and waited as I washed my face, hoping the cold water would help. I waited on edge for him to say something about last night, but he didn’t say a word. I wasn’t sure what was worse.
When I was ready, he led the way, staying a few paces ahead of me as I tried to keep up. My anxiety grew with every step.
We went straight down the stairs back to that horrible room with the straw floor and I tried to steel myself. Madame stood inside with two of her guards. My stomach sank when I recognized the woman strapped to the chair. It was Mist, the soapmaker. She looked like she’d put up a fight, her face battered and bloody, but her eyes blazed angrily.
“Oh good, Bones, you’re just in time,” Madame purred. “Mist is being very uncooperative.”
I had to fight to keep from retching right there. The room reeked like blood and that sickly sugary scent. Mac closed the door behind him and stood in front of it. The suffocating feeling of being trapped did not help.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Mist spit at Madame.
Madame smiled. She drew that all-too-familiar knife and stalked around Mist, looking thoughtful.
“Where should we start, Bones?” she mused.
I stayed pale-faced and silent, but she didn't seem to care. Eventually, she stopped and brushed Mist's light hair away from her ear.
“Who gave you the order?” Madame asked in a low, deadly voice.
Mist just snarled at her. Madame grinned and then with one swift motion, she sliced Mist’s ear clean off.
Mist cried out and jerked as blood spurted. I took a step forward instinctively, horrified, but halted when Madame held out her hand for me to stop. Madame walked around to Mist's other side and pulled her hair back from her other ear.
“Who gave you the order?” she repeated.
Mist gasped in ragged breaths, but she still didn’t speak. I saw Madame move and closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see her slice off Mist’s other ear. The noise that came out of Mist’s mouth made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Bones.”
Madame's sharp voice forced my eyes open. She gave me a hard look as Mist sobbed through her teeth beside her, blood running down her neck.
"I want her to be able to hear me, but don't bother trying to make her look pretty," Madame ordered.
I moved forward woodenly and placed my hands on either side of Mist’s bloody head. I couldn’t meet her eyes, shame blazing through me like a fire. My healing stopped the blood and closed the wounds, but her ears were still gone.
“Can you hear me, Mist?” Madame demanded.
Mist spit a mouthful of blood at her, and I jumped as Madame plunged her knife through the palm of Mist’s hand. Mist screamed and out of pure desperation and panic, I looked at Mac.
I can’t do this. I screamed inside my head.
He met my frantic gaze with his steady one. I didn’t know him well enough to know his tells. Did he hate this as much as I did? Did he not mind watching Madame torture people? I was near tears, but his face stayed expressionless.
I gave up and looked away. Madame tortured Mist for several hours. She just kept asking the same question, and Mist refused to answer. I didn't know what the question meant, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna ask. I healed Mist when Madame instructed, avoided eye contact, and tried to pretend I was somewhere far, far away. Finally, Madame signaled to the guards to take Mist back to her cell.
“Bones, you go and make sure she lives to see another day,” Madame commanded me. “I’m not done with her yet.”
Mac and I followed as the two guards dragged Mist’s limp body down the hallway. There were more cells down here than I’d thought. And most of them were occupied. Scrawny faces pressed themselves against the bars, watching us walk past. I kept my eyes down, trying to avoid looking at them.
The guards threw Mist into her cell and then stepped out, gesturing at me with a sneer. I slipped through the open door and knelt at her side to place my shaking hands on her bloody arm. She wasn’t conscious, but I healed her injuries and took away the pain. I couldn’t make her ears grow back, but at least she could still hear. Hot tears fell on my hands as I leaned over her.
“I’m sorry, Mist,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t wake up, but her breathing had evened out. I got to my feet, wiping my dirty, bloodied sleeve across my face before I turned around. Mac stood outside the bars a few steps away from the guards, watching me, his face still expressionless. The guards locked the door after I stepped out and led the way back down the hall. I followed them numbly, Mac at my side. As we walked past the cells a sudden voice rang out, startling all of us.
“Hey, you!”
I looked up with Mac and the guards to see a man hanging on the bars of his cell. Unlike the others I'd seen, he didn't look gaunt and sick. He wore simple clothes, but he was muscled in a way that would make most people steer clear of him. His unkempt black hair hung down in his face. I met his sharp almond-shaped eyes and my heart stopped. He was staring straight at me as though he recognized me.
“Shuddup,” one of the guards said, smacking the cell bars with the butt of his gun.
The man fell back, his arms raised, but he didn’t look away from me. I ducked my head and hurried after the guards, but I could still feel his eyes on me until we went up the stairs and out of sight. My heart pounded in my throat, but the guards didn’t seem to have noticed so I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t recognize him at all. He wasn’t a Reaper. If he’d met me before, I had no idea how or when.
I hated the way the bright sunlight outside highlighted all the blood coating my hands and clothes, revealing the horrible things I’d done in that room. I didn’t wait for Mac, I just made a beeline for the clinic. I desperately wanted to get out of these bloody clothes and wash off the blood and grime coating my hands. I caught a glimpse of Mac following behind me as I threw the clinic door open and stormed inside. Anger crackled under my skin.
I went right to the sink, scrubbing my hands with more force than I needed. The lavender soap did nothing to calm down my raging emotions and made me feel more guilty for what I’d done to the person who so carefully crafted it. Tears welled in my eyes, but the door opened behind me and I knew Mac had followed me inside, and I sure as hell was not gonna cry in front of him.
“Did you know that guy?” Mac asked.
“What guy?” I asked through my teeth, playing dumb.
“The one in the cell.”
“No.”
It wasn't a lie, but in the silence, I could tell Mac didn't believe me.
“He looked like he knew you.”
“I don’t know him, Mac.”
I finished scrubbing my skin raw and turned around. Mac leaned with his back against the table, arms crossed over his chest, watching me. I had the sudden urge to scream at him.
“What?” I snapped instead.
Mac stared at me like I was a riddle he wanted to solve. I glared back at him, waiting.
“I’m not ok with it,” he said in a low voice.
“Ok with what?”
“The torture,” he clarified.
“Congrats on not being a monster,” I spit out.
One corner of his lip turned up. “I could tell you were wondering.”
"Great. Thanks for letting me know you're not ok with the horrible thing you're forcing me to do."
His amusement disappeared. “I’m not forcing you to do anything.”
I scoffed. “I would not be here if you hadn’t brought me here by force.”
He shifted, but his grey eyes narrowed. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t have a choice, Bones. Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamn martyr, you’d see that.”
He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him before I could come up with a response.