Page 8 of Martyr
No, that’s a lie. I could’ve done that with her in a strapless shirt, easily. It means only one thing.
You fucked Elora’s best friend?
Self-loathing hits me like a sucker punch.
I did. Of course I did.
She swings her legs out of bed. Bare toes feel for the floor, then make contact. I sway toward her, then freeze, while she just laughs under her breath. She holds the blankets to her chest and comes right up to me. She has to tilt her head back to keep her gaze on my face.
“Don’t go thinking we aren’t inevitable, babe.” Her eyelashes flutter, and her dark-brown eyes bore into mine. “Even with all the guilt trying to crush you from the inside out.”
It’s like she can see my soul.
And I think it makes me hate her even more.
3ARTEMIS
I stayin the medical wing until after dinner.
Mary Catherine comes to visit me for the meal, sitting on the end of my bed and regaling me with stories. Stuff she thought I’d miss in less than a single day, like dining hall gossip. Who sat with who, et cetera. Oh, and naturally, the newest rumors about me and Saint.
Because we can’t justknow each otherfrom the outside world. There’s speculation on why he hates me and why I stare after him with such longing…
“I don’t,” I interrupt.
She grins, unconvinced, but thankfully changes the subject.
When the doctor on call comes to release me, Mary Catherine and I leave together.
“Movie night,” she says, hooking her thumb in the direction of the recreation room. “You coming?”
I shake my head. “Just gonna go to bed, I think.”
She waves me off.
As soon as she’s out of sight, though, I pivot and go exactly where I’m not allowed.
Sleeping Beauty’s room.
Well,Lyssa’s room. I should call her by her name. I knew her years ago—in a way. I met her when she was already unconscious, lured into the darkness by the drugstheyused to hold minds hostage.
Once upon a time, I helped Gabriel and Lyssa get out of Terror… at a very high price. And it seems, thanks to Gabriel, none of us are done paying it.
But learning Lyssa Laurent is Kade’s sister? I didn’t see that one coming.
I slip into the room and shut the door softly behind me. She’s exactly as I left her yesterday, her hair perfectly spread on the pillow. She doesn’t shift in her sleep, doesn’t so much as twitch.
Since Saint’s arrival, I’ve made the unfortunate habit of sneaking in here frequently.
I don’t think that’s normal for people in comas. I’ve read about it. Asked some nurses. Patients in comas, or under medical sedation, can still react. They might pull at their intubation, scratch, squeeze hands.
Lyssa isn’t on a ventilator. She doesn’t need any assistance breathing. She doesn’t have reactions.
She just doesn’t wake up.
“Sorry I’m late.” I drag my chair closer. “You’ll never guess what happened today.”
I have no idea if she can hear me or not. I hope she can, because otherwise I’ll eventually have to admit—to either myself or someone else—that I’ve been talking into the void for weeks. About nothing in particular, really. I didn’t want to tell her about Terror. She had it a lot worse than I did in that hellhole. So I ended up just talking about Sterling Falls in general. The town I love and seem to be quickly losing.
