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“What about your feelings? What are you hiding behind your shouting and stubbornness?”
She makes me want to smile at that, but I don’t. I never expected to be lying next to a girl in my tent and talking about feelings. It’s odd, but I don’t dislike it.
“The only way I survived was by taking charge. I told you about how my whole family became infected and wound up as rotters, so it was up to me to take care of them. I had to shut off my feelings.” I pause and wait for her look of pity, but it doesn’t come. There is no judgement in her eyes, only understanding and waiting for the rest of my story.
With my free hand, I reach over and push back strands of hair that have fallen in her face. Her breath hitches.
“You know, the last time I told that story was to another group of survivors we’d crossed paths with. All the women gave me the utmost look of pity. It pissed me off, so we left, but I can’t imagine the pity they would’ve shown if they’d known Max’s and William’s stories, too. Mine is the most tame of ours.”
“I don’t pity you,” she says, her voice full of honesty.
“Thank you for that.”
“I envy you.”
“Why?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“You could harden yourself to get things done. You didn’t let in any outsiders who you didn’t already know. You didn’t make yourself vulnerable to getting hurt…and hurting everyone else along the way.”
“The last guy you let in?” When she nods and doesn’t offer any other pieces to her puzzle, I pull my hand back, resting it on the blankets between us, and continue. “I found William first. I won’t talk about the state that he was in, but it was bad enough to where I had to take care of him as well.”
I stop talking. I don’t know why I’m telling her all of this. She understands why I’ve hardened, but what I don’t understand is why I’m opening up now. I’ve only known her a few days, and she’s leaving us soon. Maybe it’s not too late to send her over to William’s tent. This woman is dangerous.
“You’ve had to become the protector of the group. I see why you kidnapped me when you did. You were protecting your friends, and then a lone stranger who you thought needed it.”
I turn my body so I’m lying on my side, my arm still beneath my head. “You forgive me for that?”
She smiles. “Not a chance.”
“Stubborn princess.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a princess. So, you found Max last?”
I pick at a random spot on the blanket, remembering that day. “Yes, I did. Max has abandonment issues beyond what you can imagine, and if he gets attached, then it’s even more dangerous when that person leaves.”
Something flashes in her eyes when I say that, and I realize that something is going on between them after all. I’m okay with that, though a little jealous. I’m also not okay with that, because when she leaves, then I’ll be the one to pick up his pieces again. At least this time shouldn’t be as bad, but it’ll still be dangerous.
I want to ask her more questions and give her more warnings, but then she reaches over and touches my scar, making me forget about everything swimming in my head. About how she’s slowly making my friends fall for her without intending to, and getting too close to someone who won’t stay can be more dangerous than all the dregs and rotters in the country.
Even knowing that, I still can’t seem to pull away. She’s the only person who’s ever touched my face since the day this happened. I thought I’ve been doing a good job at making myself repulsive to her. I guess I was wrong. She’s not like anyone else after all.
Her fingers trace the fading raised scar tissue down the length of my cheek, and I still beneath her touch. “Tell me about this?”
“Found myself in an encounter with a rotter that was a little too close for comfort. I barely made it out, and when I did, I ran right into a dreg. He cut my face, so I cut his throat.” I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting for the look of disgust that I’d gotten from other survivors. I can still hear their repulsion in my mind.
You killed a living person?
Why didn’t you just run away instead?
You’re infected, aren’t you?
Stay away from my family, you mongrel.
“What is it?” Her brows furrow. I don’t understand. Is she talking about my scar?
“It’s a scar, princess.” My words come out clipped.
“No, I mean, what are you thinking about? If you don’t want me touching it, then I’ll stop.”
