Page 36 of The Oath We Give

“Voice in the Canvas.”

Book made for [email protected]

NINE

AN OFFER

SILAS

I didn’t come here entirelyout of the good of my heart.

When I accepted Light’s invitation, I knew Coraline was the spotlight artist.

I knew she’d be here, and I wanted to see her.

After what happened at Vervain and the news of Stephen breaking out, I wanted to make sure he hadn’t contacted her. It made zero sense, but I wanted to make sure she was okay.

Coraline Whittaker is a mystery to this town.

To me.

She is a mirage, anaturally occurring optical phenomenon that bends light rays to produce the image of a girl who is a familiar face but is unknown beneath the surface.

I admire what she turned herself into. How she turned her pain into rage. Bit at the hands of news crews that asked too many questions. Hardened her gaze so that the townspeople would stop approaching her in public.

She became something to fear.

I know what that is like.

How much easier it is to be scary. If people are afraid of you, they won’t risk getting close.

The truth is I don’t know Coraline.

Not really.

Not what makes her laugh or her favorite color. Who she wanted to be when she grew up or if she’s allergic to shellfish.

That’s what makes this…odd for me. Having thisconnectionwith a person I hardly know.

I do not know her the way most do, but I know her in a way no one else ever would.

Our trauma is a kindred spirit, emotional turmoil that two strangers on an interwoven path share. We’ve both been running, trying to forget, and the past is punishing us both for it.

Light, being the organizer of this event, was simply a moral bonus for me.

Hedi Tenor had come to my father’s company when she had just started the organization and asked for us to be co-founders. This was a way to tether Hawthorne’s name to something good, the board had said.

I’d refused.

Instead, I cut her a check whenever they need funding or a donation in Rosemary’s name. I didn’t want this organization, Hedi’s work and her pain, to become a marketing tool for Hawthorne Technology.

Those girls deserve to be more than a pity card.

“What do you see?”

I turn just my head to look over at her, standing still at my side. There are several inches between our shoulders, creating a gap. Does she know how obvious it is? How she physically keeps others at a distance, just as much as she does emotionally?

I trace the slope of her delicate nose with my eyes, indigo-colored nails tucking a piece of white hair behind her ear.

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