Page 121 of Ruthless Sin
The song Yelena sang when I couldn’t sleep.
It’s all I have left.
I don’t put on the dress from yesterday or touch it.
I’m in his shirt and my own underwear and the chain at my throat.
Still humming.
I cross the room to the door.
My vision is blurring.
I can’t cry.
Not in front of him.
Not where he can see.
I open the door.
Still humming.
I walk through it.
I don’t close it behind me.
The hallway.
I’m using the wall to stay upright.
My legs are shaking.
Still humming. Soft.
Still humming.
The hallway connecting the wings.
At the corner before the stairs, Cassia.
She’s in the silk robe she wears in the morning before she dresses. Her hand is on the bannister. The bump under the robe is full.
She’s been on her way down to the kitchen.
She’s stopped at the corner.
She sees me.
She sees the shirt and the chain and my face.
She hears me humming.
Her left hand on the bannister tightens for one second. Her right hand goes briefly to the bump, the small reflex of a woman whose body has been protecting its weight for months.
She lets me pass.
I pass her.
