Page 158 of Entangled

Isn’t it?

His sad, serious eyes meet mine, as if making sure I heard him. Then he nods.

As I watch him go, I wonder... how am I possibly meant to go to war for them, when I don’t even have the courage to fight for myself?

Chapter37

Everyone

Survival tip #10

One week changed the world.

In one week, you can start changing yourself.

Eden

Ijoin the morning sparring sessions.

I’m weak and far behind the others—my playful sex-sparring with Jayk apparently didn’t help me all that much with this. My mind is in chaos, my stomach pangs with hunger from the slim rations, I’m not sleeping, and my shame and anger might be eating me alive, but it feels... surprisingly good to take control of something again. Tofight.

I feel good enough that I can laugh when Ethel plants me on my ass. I even feel good enough that I can ignore the snide jabs of the women about “musical beds” and “poor Jaykob.” I ignore the washing soap going missing when it’s time to clean my own clothes in the river, since we’re still short a washing machine. I also ignore the card games and wine nights I’m not invited to.

It’s harder to ignore Beau, Lucky, and Jasper as they allhappen tostop by while I train—each of them offering their own words of encouragement. Or teasing, in Lucky’s case.

And if I get flustered every time Dominic smiles at me, or corrects my stance, or brings me terrible coffee and walks with me afterwards, I’m managing it. He’s still fighting with Beau, so it feels like the least I can do is sit with him for a while and listen to his worries—particularly since I’m the cause of half of them. I even try not to spend the whole time staring at him, though he’s sinfully gorgeous when he lets his guard down.

Slowly, the idea of us being friends starts to feel less and less absurd.

It’s Dom’s grim tone when he talks about the food supplies that drives me to start replanting our garden. We don’t have many seeds left, and they’ll take a while to grow, but I need to do my part. As it always has, working with the earth soothes me in its own way.

Every time the shadows between the trees loom too large, or my mind begins conjuring men pouring from between them, or my guilt and shame starts a new spiral, I dig my hands deep into the earth and wait for the anxious sweat to stop soaking my spine.

Bristlebrook writhes with worry and expectation. The air is breathless, frenetic, and like Bristlebrook, I feel on the brink ofsomething.

Change is coming.

Rather than the prospect frightening me, I feel almost... relieved. There is too much tension, lately. Too much uncertainty.

I’m ready for it to break.

Two days after I start sparring, I arrive back at my room to a thick textbook at my door. The words “PTSD” and “Workbook” leap out at me like an accusation, and it takes me a long muscle-screaming minute to convince my body to bend down to retrieve it.

Hesitantly, I open the cover, and a beautifully appointed letter falls out.

Dearest Eden,

I do hope you will forgive my presumption and take my gift as intended—as a gesture of care and deep affection. You’ve chosen to strengthen your body and arm it with new skills, and my greatest hope is that you will do the same with your mind.

Your curiosity is a beautiful strength, Eden. I know you believe in the power of knowledge—so let this be your first step. This textbook has a wealth of information, strategies, and exercises. I’ve left notes and tabs on sections I believe may be of particular use to you.

Please read, Eden. Learn. Question yourself. Know that your own thoughts can be your worst enemy, and above all, be kind to yourself.

That, as it happens, can be the hardest battle of all.

When you’re ready, please come and talk to me. You’re not alone. I am always here for you—at any hour and for any concern.

—Jasper

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