Page 12 of Wicked Salvation
Taking a deep breath, I do my best to silence the thoughts in my head.
Let her take the lead, you can’t force somebody out of an abusive relationship.
If she wants advice, she’ll ask for it. If you tell her explicitly you might scare her off.
The best thing you can be for her now is a friend, nothing else…
She puts the tea down, finally looking at me.
This close, with the fireplace illuminating her face, I can see that she’sdefinitelynot alright. Her eyes are hollow, her skin has lost some of its luster. She’s lost some weight, too. Eden’s been adrift ever since Vivienne’s death, just like I’ve been. But if I had to guess, she hasn’t had much experience with these feelings like I have.
Of course, death never gets easier.
But when you lose someone close to you for the first time, it’s different. It’s the first wound to your soul that never heals—and every subsequent loss just reopens that wound, pours salt into it, leaves you bleeding out and begging for stitches.
The pain though? It’s familiar.
“I don’t know what to do…” The fire warms her brown eyes, her tears turning them into melted brown sugar. “Every other thought I have is about her.” Eden covers her ears with her hands. “I’ve lost her and I can’t do anything about it. If I had been there, maybe she’d still be alive...”
I’m not used to feeling powerless either. But I don’t tell her that. What she needs is strength. Despite my effort to reassure her at the funeral, she still thinks this is somehow her fault—the furthest thing from the truth.
“Or both of you would be dead, like I said. Guilt doesn’t help, you’re already grief-stricken.” My words shock her, but she needs to hear it. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Edie.” I brush a strand of coily hair back from her face. It’s pointless because it just flops back. “Nobody has a handbook on how to navigate grief. It’s a living thing.” Eyes wide, mascara clumps at the inner corner of her eyes. “It burrows under your skin, and just when you think you’ve forgotten—it sinks its teeth into you. When you least expect it to.”
She nods. “And then you’re crying in the middle of the night because you randomly remember what she smells like, or the sound of her laugh—knowing that you’ll never get to experience that again.” Her voice sounds like a tiny wail. “I’ve been sleeping in her bed, but they cleaned up our room so quickly that the sheets don’t even smell of her. It’s like she never even existed.”
Eden leans over, putting her head on my shoulder. I move closer, and she slumps against me, a sigh escaping her. “I take it Silas doesn’t care much for how you feel?”
I feel her shake her head. “He thinks I should move on.” From this angle, I can see the way her lips move as she speaks, the tiny droplet of sweat forming in her cupid’s bow. I’m itching to swipe it away with my thumb, to get a feel of her lips on my skin.
“He didn’t like her very much.” I choose my words carefully. “You were closer to Vivienne, so it hurts more.” Keeping myself out of it, I continue, “Maybe you can think of the thoughts you’re having as a way of keeping her memory alive.”
The tears start streaming down her cheeks.
“I don’t know if I’m delusional, Lucy.” She takes a deep shuddering breath. “The rushed funeral, the stupid hymns, the speeches from people who didn’t know her?” Another breath. “And then today, I got a new roommate. They’re trying so hard to erase her. Why?”
I drop my hand around her shoulders. She’s shivering—not from the cold. “You’re right. It’s all odd. Vivienne would have walked out of that funeral.”
That earns me a smile, it goes straight to my heart. “Or she would have made some inappropriate joke,.” She giggles. “Just to see the nuns clutch their pearls.”
I chuckle.
Yeah, that was Vivienne.
Rebellious.
Sharp-witted.
Full of life.
Notsuicidal.
“I hope your new roommate is nice, at least.”
Eden scoffs. “She’s the most pretentious person I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot. She tried to make me curtsy, insisting that she outranked me because she would’ve been a Grand Duchess if Russian royalty still existed.”
That stops me dead in my tracks. “Anastazya?”
“You know her?”
