Page 71 of A Light in the Darkness
“Change.”
His eyes indicate whatever he threw at me, now lying on the floor in a heap with the blanket I’ve started to rot into. The black material on the ground is small, and I have no interest in gettingdressed up and pretending I’m in one piece when inside, everything feels like it’s splintered. “No.”
He stoops to pick up the dress, which it turns out, isn’t a dress as he hands it to me. It’s a shirt, and he’s got leggings to go with it too. It’s an odd contrast to his attire, and I don’t know what to make of that. “If you won’t get dressed, I will do it for you. This isn’t a choice.”
I vaguely remember him telling me I never had to do anything I didn’t want to with him and wonder what happened to that guy, but I don’t miss him, and I don’t bring it up. But I do strip off the tank top and let it fall to the ground as I take the shirt he offers. His eyes don’t dip to take in my bare breasts, and when I slip the waistband of the pants down to follow my shirt on the floor, he just continues to stare at my face. A bra and underwear just seemed so unnecessary, and I guess he must have agreed, because he didn’t bring me a set.
I stand completely naked in front of him, and he only holds the new clothes out for me, so I take the pants, step into them, and then tug the top over my head. It takes everything in me not to fall back onto the bed when I get it in place, but I only look at him, awaiting the next command. I’m sure it will be something like go brush your teeth or find a hairbrush, but he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he points at a pair of sandals on the ground, so I slip my feet into them and then look up to see him watching me.
The stony façade has cracked, his jaw slackened, and I can’t tell what it is, but he doesn’t look quite so annoyed with me. He reaches up a hand that lands on my cheek, the thumb brushing over my skin. I know he’s seeing the bruises, the blood that still hasn’t receded from the broken vessels.
“Come on.” His voice is softer now as he leads me to the elevator.
It’s not a long ride, and when it dings open, the lobby we exit into is quiet, glossy and clean and so bright itmakes me want to crawl back into the elevator. Something about it reminds me of the hospital—similar in its cold sterility.
Remy pulls me swiftly through the space, not the least bit bothered to be seen with me looking like I just crawled out of bed… because I did.
And yet, I’m surprised when the glass door opens before me, and we enter out into a balmy night. It’s late, but judging by the blue in the black sky, it’s not too late. I guess that means he’s not dragging me out for dinner or anything stupid like that.
When we get to the shiny black car waiting for us, he opens my door for me, and gestures for me to get in. When I do, he reaches in, buckling my seatbelt for me. I’m vaguely aware of the fact that I probably smell—it’s been days since I’ve felt human, let alone tried to look like it. But if I do, he doesn’t let on, because as he retreats across me, his eyes find mine.
Something rises in me. It’s just a fluttering, really, but it takes me by surprise enough that my lips fall open. Remy’s hand snakes around the back of my head, and for a moment I think he means to kiss me. And he does, sort of, pressing his mouth to my forehead and breathing me in.
I sit, frozen, as his skin warms mine.
He doesn’t look at me as he pulls back, doesn’t say anything. He just shuts the door and walks around to the driver’s side.
Chapter forty-two
Remy
Claire is quiet the whole way, looking wordlessly out the window.
Getting her here wasn’t without effort. I don’t know how the rest of the night will go. She’s in no headspace to entertain me, much less when I can’t tell her where we’re going. I hope she’s not expecting much, though I doubt she’s got any illusions about grandeur given that I gave her loungewear to change into. In truth, it doesn’t matter what she wears tonight. The all-black ensemble will just hide the blood better than the white cotton top I’ve been dying to pull over her head all week.
This could be a very bad idea, but I don’t have a better suggestion, so I finally pull off the highway, feeling the crunch of the tires on the gravel. She doesn’t turn to look at me, doesn’t ask any questions. I’d be proud that she isn’t nervous, that she trusts me enough to let me lead her anywhere, but I’m too rattled that she still isn’t feeling anything. She can’t stave it all off forever, and once she lets it all in, it’s gonna hurt like hell.
“Almost there.” I tell her, glancing down the path ahead of me. The headlights only illuminate so much, and the tall swaying grasses on either side of the path block out everything in the periphery. For now, it’s just us, but once we get to the house…
The black SUV is pulled up right to the decrepit front porch, and it’s the only thing in sight that looks like it’s not from a horror movie. The tire swing hanging from a fraying rope in the tree certainly gives me reason to park on the other side of the yard, and of course, it looks like it’s moving, if only a little despite the lack of a breeze.
When I cut the engine, she finally turns to me, but it’s not with questions in her eyes. She’s awaiting a command, an explanation. I don’t offer her anything yet as I climb out, leaving the keys on the dashboard, and come around to open her door. She takes the hand I offer and lets me pull her from the car. I can see a little bit of interest as her eyes glance over the SUV.
We’re at the door before I hear the crunch of gravel alerting me that the last of our guests is arriving, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so I open the door and usher her inside with a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes sweep every inch of the place as we step inside, the musty smell a little better since Dimitri left the windows open earlier.
“Where are we?” she finally asks, noticing the dust collected on the staircase banister just before her. The obvious signs of abandonment only grow as I lead her into the kitchen, where the few cabinet doors that still remain are all propped open, showcasing the empty shelves. The only light we have is what comes in from the full moon shining through the open windows, and I’m glad it at least obscures the rats and insects that are hiding somewhere in here.
“This house has been abandoned for nearly forty years.” I tell her idly. “I didn’t choose it, but it will work nicely enough for our purposes.” Our eyes connect for a minute, but she doesn’t ask me what our purposes are. “When we were apart, I did a little bit of reconnaissance. I met a lot of people, learned a lot of things…”
The glow of the lamp ahead defines the path forward, and still, she doesn’t look afraid, willing to let me lead her into a situation where anyone and anything could be waiting for us.
But she’s not in danger. Sheisthe danger.
“Remember when I told you some people don’t deserve to live?”
Claire doesn’t look to me this time when she answers in a whisper,yes.
“Well, here’s another.”
