Page 78 of Shadows in Bloom

Again, it’s that hissing voice I heard in the closet. The same one I heard in the woods. Shuddering, I seal my eyes shut. My voice is shaky, watery, and I mumble, “I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”

A cackle fills my ears, churning my stomach. “God won’t save you now…” The words are Ophelia’s, but the voice repeating them in my head carries the same twisted edge I heard moments ago.

Wrong…it’s all wrong…

My mind flashes back to the blackened spot I caught a glimpse of on her neck.

Soot. She thought it was soot.

The fire.

Has she had it since that night?

That was three years ago.

“You lost nothing!”

Regret and despair squeeze my throat.

She’s wrong. She’s so utterly wrong, it’s a sucker punch to my chest.

I might not have lost everything, like her, but I did lose something.

I lost the most important person in my life.

CHAPTER 4

WINIFRED CHAPEL

THREE YEARS AGO

“Maybe…maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” I say quietly, staring warily at the wooden board spread out between us.

Ophelia huffs from where she sits cross-legged facing me, mirroring my position. “Oh, come on, don’t back out now. It probably won’t even work,” she says teasingly.

Frowning, I lift my gaze to hers, peering over my glasses that have started to slip. Before I can adjust them, she reaches over, nudging them up herself.

My cheeks heat and I roll my lips together to mask my smile.

I secretly love when she does that. Always have. But it’s…different now…has been for a while, and that’s the secret part.

Though…maybe it’s not so much a secret anymore, if the way she quickly glances away, cheeks flushing, hands wringing in her lap are anything to go by.

My pulse speeds up as an awkward, familiar sort of tension fills the space between us.

It’s been happening a lot more lately. Rising from seemingly out of nowhere—nowhere, because things like her nudging my glasses up, or throwing an arm over my shoulders, or brushing back my hair and fixing the braids that just won’t hold…

It’s how it’s always been for us.

We’ve known each other forever. Been the best of friends since the first day of kindergarten when we ended up getting seated together in afternoon Mass. She’d snuck in candy she’d saved from lunch—Twizzlers—and shared them with me. I knew it wasn’t allowed, but I loved Twizzlers, and she was the first girl in our class to acknowledge me all day.

We got caught, of course. Nothing ever got past the nuns. And together, side-by-side in the Reverend Mother’s office, we endured our punishment—three thwacks of the ruler over each set of knuckles.

We've been inseparable ever since.

Is it possible she’s been just as confused as me?

Is it possible I’m not the only one wanting…more?

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