Page 24 of Molt

“I’m getting really fucking tired of hearing that.”

“Then listen the first time.”

She glares at me.

There…good. Hate me. Please.

“Fine.” She spins and walks toward the door.

Relief nearly knocks me over then she stops. “August?”

Don’t turn around.

I do.

“Was I ever happy?”

Of all the questions. Of all the fucking things she could ask.

My throat closes.

She waits.

I see every version of her at once. Lenora dancing barefoot in a kitchen in 1897. Lenora asleep against my shoulder on a train. Lenora screaming at me in Paris. Lenora wearing my shirt. Lenora standing beneath cherry blossoms. Lenora covered in my blood. Lenora holding my face while my body came apart beneath her hands. Lenora sobbing. Lenora laughing. Lenora loving me.

“Yes.”

Her expression softens. “With you?”

I can’t answer. I don’t need to.

She knows.

Fuck.

She walks out and the door closes behind her.

I stand alone in the middle of my living room heaving for air.

One second. Two. Three. Then my legs give out.

I hit the floor and pain explodes through my chest. “Fuck.”

I tear my shirt open. The skin over my sternum is red. Something beneath it moves. I press my palm against my chest. Another wave of pain tears through me. I bite down on my fist to keep from screaming.

No. Too fast.

She shouldn’t be this far yet.

We touched twice. That’s all.

Twice.

Unless…

My eyes move toward the shelf.

Specimen 08.