Page 56 of Wicked Salvation
Silas:
Meet me after your theology class.
I stare at the message for a long while, my thumb hovering over the screen.
I know I’m supposed to say yes—that’s what a good fiancée would do.
But I can’t even stomach the thought of seeing him today. Not after what happened during our night away from school. The thought of his hands on my body, his fingers brushing the bruises on my face like he’sproudof what he’s done…
My stomach clenches but there’s nothing to retch.
He’s turned me into someone I don’t recognize, and I need time to process it all.
I’m not feeling well. I’m going to rest.
It’s not exactly a lie.
It’s just not the kind of sick he’ll understand if I explain.
Another storm of dots appears immediately.
Silas:
You’re avoiding me.
I tossthe phone on my bed, ignoring the message.
There’s no way for me to frame my answer in a way that will be palatable to Silas. The truth feels like a piece of obsidian in my mouth—heavy and jagged.
Yes, I’m avoiding you.
I’m avoiding your harsh hands, your poisonous lips, the way you make me question walking down the aisle to you—if I should risk the disgrace, the social fall out, the mental breakdown just to escape you.
And most of all? I’m avoiding the guilt I feel when I look at him and remember Lucian’s breath against my core, the warmth of his hands on my skin—and the way he saw me last night. All of me, including my mental health challenges, and he didn’t run away.
That feeling? I’ve never experienced it before. I’ve always been too much for everyone. Pretending to be someone else has always been easier. When I open up to people, they always leave—no matter what I do, I manage to screw up everything.
So, even though things are terrible with Silas,I don’t want to screw things up.
It takes me two hours to get ready.
I skip breakfast, choosing to spend the time covering my bruises instead. Even when I’m finished, I look worlds away from the girl who set foot on this campus months ago.
My hair is in a bun—the most elegant one I could make with a three-day old twist out. Though my uniform is crisp, my shoes are clean and I’m wearing nearly £1,000,000 worth of jewelry, I feel absolutely terrible.
The campus is different when I exit the dorm.
Heavier.
The air is thick with whispered rumors and stifled sobs in secret enclaves. Students are breaking down in the library. Nuns are resigning. Secrets are leaking like oil under the chapel doors. It’s like I’m witnessing the degradation of something Holy in real time.
I keep my eyes trained on the floor.
This is all Lucian’s doing.
He has left his mark everywhere—the desecrated Holy items, the ruined facades, the shattered windows, the scandals spreading left and right—and it’s only getting worse.
His name is in mouths that shouldn’t know it.
