Page 88 of Darkness I Become
“We need to make good time,” he said, his voice edged with impatience. “Kimmy’s counting on us.”
That was how they’d ended up hightailing it through the woods, away from the roads where bandits were most likely to roam. Asha knew the nearby highway was frequented by the Skulls, though she didn’t share that with her companions.
When they stopped for a break, Madigan went to sleep at Claire’s urging, and finally, Asha spoke to her alone. She hoped to speak some sense to her friend.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see you with a Wastelander, much less be smitten with one,” Asha said, trying for a laugh. “You really think that’s a good idea out here?”
Claire looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Asha pinched the bridge of her nose. “The Wasteland’s a ruthless place,” she said frankly. “Every bit the hellhole we were told about. Didn’t appreciate the warm bed and full belly I always had at the Cave, all because they matched me with someone I didn’t want.”
Asha shook her head. “Spent so much of my time whining about how tough we had it under tyranny, yet not a day’s gone by that I don’t wish I’d wake up in my bed back home. I’d marry that poor bastard a million times over again if I could just have that.”
She hadn’t put it in so many words to herself, but as the words escaped, Asha realized they were true. If she could erase Cade—even if it meant forgetting the best moments of her life—she would. Even thinking his name was searingly painful, like wilfully putting her hand on a hot stove. His betrayal left oozing blisters on her thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Claire said softly. “I don’t know what must’ve happened to you to make you feel that way…but I’m sure it can’t have been easy.”
“You’re saying that you don’t agree,” Asha replied, unable to hold back an ironic laugh.Seriously, this guy must begoodif he got to her like this. “Come on, is Wild Man’s dick that good?”
Claire frowned, and Asha briefly wondered if she’d offended her delicate sensibilities. Asha certainly couldn’t imagine Claire making the sort of straightforward blowjobs-for-protection deal that she’d made with Cade. She’d undoubtedly clutch her pearls at the idea.
Asha had always been the more pragmatic one.
“John saved me, that day at the factory. From the cannibals. After you left me.”
Asha’s mouth opened in outrage, but her once-buried shame bubbled up to the surface.You’re a horrible person,it whispered to her.Worthless. Unlovable. Unworthy of—
“I didn’t leave you,” she shot back at Claire. “We got split up, and by the time I got back to where I last saw you, you were gone.”
Liar,her shame whispered again.You could have fought. You could have saved her from him.
Claire sighed wearily. “It doesn’t matter. Fact is, he saved my life, and I’ve been with him since.”
Of course she had been. What man in this brutal world wouldn’t take advantage of an obviously desperate woman in need of assistance? Asha’s anger got the better of her, and she couldn’t help snapping, “How noble of him, to rescue a helpless woman to rape,”
Predictably, Claire looked even more offended. “That’s not what happened.”
Asha took a deep breath to collect herself. She had to be patient if she wanted to get through to her friend. Claire wouldn’t see the truth right away; that was the nature of the kind of relationship she’d found herself in. Perhaps, though, she could chip away at it enough that Claire would eventually see the truth for herself.
“If he had, he’d be no different to any of the other Wastelander men I’ve met,” Asha said, and she was pleased that she sounded much calmer. “Kinder, in fact, if he’d had the manners to ask first. They usually just take what they want—whatever they want.”
Claire’s expression shifted to something like horror. “Is that what happened to you, Asha?”
With a sigh, Asha began to tell her story, and wove a tale that was part-real, part-fiction. She told Claire that she’d been found by Angel and had made a deal with him for protection. She described the way the unattached women had been treated in her time with the Guardians as if it were her own experience, where they gave their labour and their bodies, and in return, they were fed and housed and protected from the worst of the Wasteland. She didn’t like doing that, but it was the only way to entirely omit Cade from the story.
She had no desire to tell Claire, or anyone else, about him, or her time with the Blackguard. It was easier to pretend Cade hadn’t existedthan to admit she’d fallen in love with a man like him, that she’d been so easily duped by how good he’d been to her. Speaking of him would be too much to bear.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Asha,” Claire said at the conclusion of her story, and her earnest eyes almost made Asha regret lying to her. “But I’m glad you got away, and that you’re here now. I’ve missed you.”
Asha doubted that was true, and when she finally rolled over to nap before they had to leave again, there was a leaden weight in her stomach. After all that time, to find Claire alive should’ve felt like a miracle, a blessing. But all things felt dulled to Asha’s senses now, as though she’d died and her body just kept walking, oblivious. Perhaps if Claire had been as she remembered, it would’ve reawakened her, but this Claire had little in common with the friend she’d known.
She decided to follow them north to the farm Claire had mentioned. If it existed, which Asha doubted, she’d have a new place to live out whatever remained of her miserable life. If it didn’t, well, at least it’d be satisfying to kill Madigan when his lies were found out.
Perhaps it should’ve disturbed her that the idea of slaughtering shitty, abusive men was one of the only happy thoughts she had these days. Then again, happiness was in such short supply these days that she’d take whatever she could get.
Madigan wasn’t happy about Asha accompanying them to the family farm Claire had mentioned, called Summerhurst. It was located in a farming community in the far north they called the Valley, over a thousand kilometres on foot, and the journey—especially with winter looming—would be arduous. Asha figured it couldn’t be any worse than whatever wandering she’d do on her own, however. Hardship wouldn’t exactly be a shock for her.
The surprise instead came in the form of a short, dark-haired woman who Madigan claimed was his sister, though they looked nothing alike. She was clearly of East Asian descent, with pretty brown eyes and a smattering of freckles. She’d been deathly ill when theyreturned to the dilapidated cottage they’d been staying in, suffering from a horrific wound that’d gotten infected.
