Page 47 of Lust
Voices filtered through a cracked door.
She moved her blanket and winced at the pain in her shoulder. A glance down revealed she’d been stitched and patched. A small stain of blood gathered on the bandage, but it was old. Another day and she’d have good mobility back. How long had she been out?
Flashes of her injury came to her. They’d all gathered to help. Mary and Flint had watched with concerned eyes. They tried to get her something to drink. They were... caring for her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone did.
When she’d grown up with Julius, every knee scrape, or head wound, had been treated as a means to toughen her up, to thicken her skin.
This was different.
The bed was soft. Part of her didn’t want to get out. But she must. Her everlasting soul depended on it. Julius may not care the same way as Mary or Flint, but he’d cared enough to include a strand of her hair in his locket with his beloved first family. That was special. When the replicate expiration issue got solved, Despair would be reincarnated as a clone after she died. And they would do so in a new world where sin didn’t rule.
The voices raised in timbre, as though in argument.
She forced herself out of bed and tiptoed to the door.
Four distinct voices. Mary, Flint, Wrath, and the youngest, Envy.
“She’s a hazard. A danger. She has to go,” Wrath declared.
“Mijo, you know she came here asking for our help. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
“I don’t care. I’ll walk right in there and drag her out.”
“Wyatt,” Flint admonished. “You were once in her shoes. Don’t forget. You left the family, then came back asking for help. We gave it.”
A growl. “It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s not. None of us wanted to leave her behind, but if we didn’t, none of you would be here. She sacrificed everything for you all. She deserves our forgiveness. But we can only pray for hers in return.”
“Has she given you any information we can act on?” Envy asked. The shuffle of papers sounded like maybe he had notes in his hands. “What about these?”
“We haven’t had much time to chat,” Mary admitted. “But I’ll ask about the sketches as soon as she’s awake.”
“There’s something else,” Envy added. “I had another dream. This time, there’s another face... well, see for yourself.”
Mary gasped. “It’s Daisy’s face. Are you saying she’s at risk, just as much as Misha, or Liza?”
Despair’s heart palpitated. A hidden fear she’d long since repressed tried to break through. Growing up, she never knew her family had survived the fire. Julius failed to tell her. She’d feared that if she wasn’t perfect, then he wouldn’t want her anymore, and then use her for spare parts.
Silence.
A sound something like a chair scraping along the floor as it moved. Footsteps.
Despair hurried back into the bed, climbed beneath the covers, and rolled to the side away from the door. She shut her eyes and feigned sleep. Perhaps she dozed off because when she next opened her eyes, the house was silent. All except light footfalls in the bedroom.
When she looked over, Mary carried a small plant in her hands. She placed it on the side table.
“You’re awake,” Mary said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot.”
“We’re grateful for your sacrifice.”
It was Despair’s turn for silence.
The small plant was an old and gnarled bonsai. Mary touched its leaves.
“Do you remember this?” she asked.
