Page 101 of Alchemised
“Breathe,” he said near her left ear.
There was a touch between her legs, something warm and slippery. She flinched away, then realised it was oil.
She drew a rasping breath, squeezing her eyes so tight, they throbbed as his weight pressed against her hips.
She choked back a garbled whimper.
She closed her eyes tighter. Her mind scrabbled, trying to find an escape. In stasis, in the tank, she’d learned to take herself away when her mind teetered on the edge.
That was how she’d survived. She’d learned she could endure.
Now that escape didn’t work.
She was trapped inside her body, as if someone had nailed her consciousness in place with a spike.
This is better than Central, she reminded herself, struggling to keep from hyperventilating, from clawing and screaming and trying to shove him off.
Her chest spasmed. There were tears sliding from the corners of her eyes.
Better than Central.
What if this failed? What if Stroud was right about him, that it wasn’t even possible, but Helena had cooperated anyway? What if it was all for nothing?
She gave a frantic, panicking gasp, unable to keep from recoiling just as he jerked and stilled.
He was gone so suddenly, it was as if he’d evaporated.
Helena opened her eyes and couldn’t see him anywhere. The violent sound of retching emerged from the bathroom.
Eventually she heard the toilet flush and the sound of water running from the tap for several minutes.
She managed to shove her skirts down but couldn’t make herself move beyond that. Her body was numb.
It’s over, she kept telling herself, trying to make herself calm down, but she couldn’t stop trembling. Her nails had carved crescents into her palms.
Ferron emerged from the bathroom, his tense expression faded, as if he couldn’t maintain it. His face was drawn, his eyes stark and reddish.
He looked strangely mortal. She wished he didn’t.
She looked away.
He crossed the room silently, picked up his coat, and left.
Helena sat up slowly, trying not to feel her body.
Going into the bathroom, she turned on the shower’s spray and curled up beneath it without taking her clothes off. When the water ran cold, she still didn’t move.
CHAPTER 19
HELENA TRIED TO MAKE HERSELF GO OUTSIDE the next day. She was desperate for fresh air, to escape the oppressive weight of the house, but when she reached the doorway, a warm spring breeze rushed across her face, filling her lungs with the scent of loam and spring blossoms. She could see little clusters of crocuses and snowdrops peeking through the dead grass. The blackened vines covering the house were tipped with specks of green, and flocks of birds chirped as they soared overhead.
It was beautiful, and it felt like a betrayal.
The world was not supposed to be beautiful any longer. It was supposed to be dead and cold, forever mirroring the misery of Helena’s life. Instead it had moved on, tilting into a new season, and she could not. She was trapped forever in winter, in the season of death.
She retreated into the house.
When the door to her room opened in the afternoon, she was relieved to see Stroud instead of Ferron.
