Page 110 of Judas
“Why did you color suns and flowers on my princess pages?”
Not what I was expecting at all. Lacking the freedom to move much, the simple subconscious muscular movements that keep me alive, freeze. Speechlessness is an understatement—she didn’t ask that. No way in hell.
Though my mouth feels drier, I ask, “Come again?”
“Jesus,” Nadia grits. The tip of her tongue poking the inside of her cheek then drawing in a deep breath to level herself.
“Don’t use—“
“I know, I know. Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Took you long enough. Slow learner.”
“Answer me, Lucien. It’s a simple question.”
“Very aware of that fact, Nadia. The answer isn’t, however.”
Placing her hands on her knees, giving them a hard rub, she now leans to the back of the chair and slouches. Waiting impassively—reminding me too much of the people who have tried to dig into my head starting when I was just a young man. Her arms criss-cross over her chest, covering the decoration that was stamped on the front of her tee before her lips purse to the side. Right where I can see her teeth pulling at the too-soft tissue on the inside of her mouth.
“You were upset,” I finally answered her.
“That’s it? You drew on my pages because you thought I was upset?” Disbelief fills her tone until it’s almost overflowing the proverbial cup.
“Yes. Mother and I went into the house to find food to steal. Instead of helping her, I went to your room and saw your coloring book. Is that a crime, Officer Pierce? Shall I be tossed into seg all because I wanted you to have something that made you smile?”
A frown dominates her features now and I have no clue if it’s out of anger or sadness. Just a bit too tired to decipher which one. Lord please let her get the hell over it. That was a lifetime ago, I—okay, I know I’ve not moved on either… which reminds me.
“The better question is, why did you scribble over them?”
Nadia’s right leg begins to bounce and her fingers flex, causing her nails to dig into the cotton-covered flesh of her bicep. Stewing in her silence, obviously holding something back that might piss me off. Guess I’ll have to wait and see which way she’s going to go with this. Classic Nadia—insufferable attitude with a mouth that runs until the consequences overload the payment her ass isn’t willing to make. Or prison-hardened Naida—all observation, contemplation, and willingness to listen rather than swing fists?
“Well?” I push, prompting her again.
What’s patience to me anyway?
“Dad would have hurt you for drawing on my things. I heard him talking to someone on the phone, a man that kept asking about you and Mom. Dad said he would beat both of you if the other man wanted him to, but he needed to come get you soon. He was a bully, and I wasn’t going to let him hurt you and Mom anymore when he could do it to me instead. When I saw the drawings the next day, I covered them up.”
“A… are you saying that you did that to protect us? Me?” The stutter is obvious as I speak, but it’s that or be completely lost on what to say in return. Turning away, I look everywhere but at her. If what she’s saying is true… fuck, I’m going to hell. She only wanted to keep us safe, that’s… that’s why she always safeguarded Kace, because he wasn’t part of a clique. He was picked on, targeted, and abused. And being the savage I am, I followed in Father’s footsteps after all. Avoided the church to spite him, to never live as he did, treat people disgustingly thenhide behind a righteous facade. No, I let people see me for what I was—HIM.
Nadia unfolds her arms, her posture relaxing fractionally where she reaches to pick uneasily at invisible lint on her jeans. She isn’t looking at me, like two awkward people do when they’re first getting to know one another.
Is that what we’re doing? Learning who our broken littles are?
“Dandelion.”
“Huh?” I’m perplexed at her choice of response.
“The color you used to draw the sun shining is my favorite. Also my favorite flower. Regarded as a weed, a nuisance, but then it transforms from tiny suns into a puff of seeds people of all ages still wish upon.”
Who is this woman?
Where do we go from here? Forgiveness is likely out of the question. I don’t have the audacity to plead for that anyway, not considering all of the things I’ve done to her and her family. Her hatred for me is justified, as well as Kace’s, but fuck him. Sadie, there’s no expectation there either. She’s so much like me, there’s a possibility she may salvage me, but if she didn’t I would understand.
“Lucien?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you get out of Sortiger?”
