Page 80 of This Vicious Hunger
I creep into the cellar when Olea is in the upper tower and stuff my face with slices of dried meats, thick chunks of cheese, and as much bread as I can muster. Olives, pasta, porridge, and water. I eat like the starved, hunched over, barely tasting. Usually by the time I’ve snuck back outside my stomach is rumbling again. I think of the hare often, regretting that I didn’t have the sense to take it home with us for dinner. It is too late now. I doubt the antidote would let us die of poisoning from bad meat, but the process, the vomiting and cramps, doesn’t seem like fun.
Of course, the truth is Olea is right to hate me. The longer I sit and think my circular thoughts, the stronger I feel about this. It’s fair of me to be concerned about what is happening to us, but Olea isn’t solely to blame—and I’ve no doubt she is struggling more than I am. Yes, she has me now, but she has also discovered her entire life is a lie. The story she told me, of the deaths of her parents and her adoption by Petaccia… it seems especially cruel knowing the doctor would choose such a tale over the truth.
It is as I’m turning this over for the millionth time that the noise startles me. This is no phantom whisper on the breeze. It is the beat of footsteps, the slap of hard shoes. I spring into action, hurrying to the wall and out of sight of the gate.
I’m not sure why I hide. Perhaps it is an instinct, the antidote protecting me still, even though this could be a way out of the garden. The shoes do not belong to Petaccia, who rarely makes a sound even though her stride is long and purposeful. Still, the same voice echoes:Where would you go?
I press my back to the wall and listen. My heartbeat is the slow thud I’ve grown used to, but my skin prickles with sweat as fear floods through me.
“Thora? Thooooora?”
It might as well be a ghost for the feeling of dread that fills me up. I hold a hand over my mouth to silence my breathing, ears straining. Is it my mother? I grasp through the fog of confusion. My father? Perhaps the antidote never worked and this is Death.
When the voice calls again, it sounds closer. I stumble from my hiding spot and out into the open, running for the gate.
“Leo,” I gasp. “Oh, it’s you.”
Itishim. Cream slacks, white shirt rolled at the sleeves. He’s missing his usual scholar’s robe but has a dark jacket pulled up at the neck against the cooling night air. He looks thin. There are so many things I want to say to him. Apologies and excuses and desperate pleas for him to leave all burble one after another until the noise in my head is so loud my ears might burst.
In the end what comes out is, “Are you all right?”
“Am… amIall right? Thora, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. “I’ve been right here.”
Leo’s eyes don’t stray from my face, but I know he’s taken in the state of me: stained nightgown, dirt and grass and probably food too. Is there blood? I’ve not changed in several days. What’s the point? My hair is thick and curling and I know I look better with it like this. I try to give him a winning smile—though I suspect I just look unhinged.
“Thora.” It’s all he says.
The reality of it sinks in like a stone in a pond. I wrap my arms over my chest and hold my elbows, hiding my breasts. I’m not cold, but the air has taken on a chill. I’m aware that this looks strange, itisstrange, but the fog in my brain makes me slow.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“What are you doing in there?” Leo asks. “And where are yourclothes? Come here, I’d like to take you back to your rooms if you’ll let me. You need to rest. You look…” He trails off.
“I look what?”
“You look unwell.”
I can’t avoid the laugh that breaks from my chest. Oh, if only he knew.
“Will you unlock the gate?” Leo presses. “I assume you have the key. I can call a doctor.”
“Oh, a doctor,” I singsong. “No, don’t do that. We’ve had enough with doctors, thank you.”
“We? Is Olea in there with you? Can I speak to her? I knew something wasn’t right with that woman—didn’t I tell you? I warned you.”
“No,” I say thoughtfully. “Olea doesn’t want to talk to anybody right now. I fucked that.” Another laugh breaks through my defences at Leo’s expression, leaves me breathless. If only he knew that too. I fucked her. Then he’d run back to his little room on the other side of campus with his tail between his legs, too scared to admit he’d want this too, if Olea were a man. Maybe he’d set some sexy books on fire, just like Aurelio.
“Thora,” Leo tries again. “Please let me in. I’m not sure what’s going on, but we can talk about it if you want—or not. I’ve been looking for you. You’ve not been to any of your classes for weeks. I thought you were hiding from me.”
“I’m hiding from everybody,” I say solemnly. “Do you have any food?”
“Do I… have any food?”
“Yes, do you have any food?” I approach the gate. “I’m ravenous.”
Leo takes a half step back. What has gotten into him? I’m only asking for something to eat. Something—
