Page 65 of Afflicted

“No.” I shake my head against his shoulder as my throat swells shut. “I don’t want this life, not like this, not anymore. There’s nothing good,nothing.” My lungs ache too much to cry.

Silas exhales slowly, like he’s relieved, and draws back so he can look down at me.

“I’ve been there, I have. I was sure there was nothing good left in the world.” He strokes my cheeks, and the pain in his eyes is like a dagger to my gut. “I’ve been there, angel. And someone saved me. Even in this fucked up world, there’s beauty. There’s joy. Even if you have to dig for it.”

My throat aches as I swallow. “How deep do I have to dig to find beauty in a world like this?”

He presses my hand to his chest. “Not far at all.”

My lip trembles, and then the tears start falling, flowing down my cheeks. “I trusted him.” I gasp for air, the cold rush in my nose catching at the back of my throat and making me cough. “I let him in, and I trusted him. I never wanted to let anyone close, I never wanted… And then he did that to me.”

“I know, I know.” He sits on the bed beside me, and I slump against him, the sobs tearing up my throat despite my aching lungs. He holds me close, stroking my hair, letting me cry.

“I hate that I’m glad he’s dead.” I clench my eyes shut. “That makes me a bad person, right?”

“No. It means he got what he deserved.” His voice is like ice, but it doesn’t scare me one bit. “You’re not a bad person. Nothing about you is bad. You didn’t deserve this. Any of it.”

I sniffle, looking up at him. “Who saved you? You said someone saved you.”

“I’ll tell you all about her sometime.”

“Are you going to save me?”

His eyes widen a little for a split second, then he frowns. He looks like he wants to speak, like he wants to say something, instead he sighs heavily, pressing a kiss to my temple before getting to his feet.

“I need to go, but… No one’s going to hurt you, alright? I’m here. Even if I’m just a feeder, even if you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you, Silas.”

He sucks in a breath. “Thank you.”

“I told you, I’m glad you’re my friend.”

“So am I, angel.” He turns away, running a hand through his hair, shifting on his feet like a caged animal. “I need to go.” He looks back at me with a brief smile. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

The doorway is a yawning chasm after he rushes through it. I want to ask him to come back. But more tears leak from the corners of my eyes, because I can’t do that.

I can’t ask for anything here.

* * *

After three daysI’m allowed to leave the clinic and go back to the dorm. I’m not sure if I feel normal again, or if I’m just numb. My chest still aches a little, a scattering of bruises from the CPR along my sternum.

They're still worried about my weight, and my mental state. Every time a feeder comes near me, I flinch because I think they’re going to come and get me, take me out back and shoot me. But Silas told me they wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.

Just as I have for months now, I feel his eyes on me. He's always in the background. It used to bother me. It gave me the chills. Now it’s like a soft blanket I want to wrap myself up in. He makes me feel safe.

I’m off schedule for draining, because they want to get my weight up first. So I have even more time to be miserable.

Silas is waiting for me when I head out of the cafeteria after breakfast, three weeks after my little swim.

He’s not wearing his usual khaki green uniform. Instead he’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt. He’s leaning against the wall of the opposite building, his rusty eyes fixed on me intently as I walk towards him.

“Morning,” he says, a small grin twisting the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, you got the morning off?”

“Yeah, just wanted to see if you were up for a trip to the gym.”

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