Page 26 of The Killer Who Kept Me

“I don’t feel special,” I mumbled.

“Let me go see about that food and something more comfortable to wear. If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll return and we can get you washed up.”

“I don’t need help showering.” How embarrassing.

“Fair enough, but I’d like to be close by. And let’s keep this foot and hand raised through the night.”

Before Paulo had a chance to leave, there was a knock. Paulo looked at me.

“What?”

“He won’t enter—no one will, unless you allow them to.”

Oh.Wow, I’d never been given that level of respect. “Uh, come in?”

The door opened and Saros walked in, followed by a middle-aged woman pushing a cart.

“Good evening, Mr. Em, I’m Martha. I made you some soup, fresh bread, a salad, and a chicken sandwich.”

Jesus! That’s insane.“Wow, thank you.”

“Think nothin’ of it. You could use some fattening.” Martha laughed as if that were the funniest joke ever told. I couldn’t help but beam.

Saros was by the door, Paulo talking to him too quietly for me to hear. Saros kept glancing at me and shooting me smiles while Martha set up a tray that went over my lap.

“Now, I’ll be up in about forty-five minutes to check on you. Don’t go fussin’ with the plates, Mr. Em. You hear me?”

“Ye…yes, ma’am.”

“Martha’s just fine.”

“Then you can call me Em.”

“What’s Em short for, deary?” She asked the question like anyone would to someone who’d offered a nickname. Just curiously. For the first time I wanted to say it out loud, rip off the Band-Aid. I knew more questions would come once I did.

She looked at me, her eyes happy, waiting for me to answer. Saros and Paulo had stopped talking, wanting very much to know as well.

I took a deep breath. “Em is short for November.”

Her eyes widened. “How lovely.”

“Not really.”

“And why’s that, love?”

“I was born in November. My parents never wanted me, so when the doctor questioned what they were naming me, they chose the month I was born.”

Her smile fell, and she leaned down and hugged me tenderly.

“Well, Em, I’ll tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“You can let it own you, or you can own it. It’s a beautiful name, and you choose what it means, not them.”

With that she left, and by the time I got the nerve to look up, I realized only Saros remained, and the expression on his face wasn’t happiness.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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