Page 92 of A Silence So Divine

Today, Sylvie insists that Creed learn how to handle a gun.

To my dismay, he’s a big fan.

The first hour is spent teaching him the ins and outs of said weapon. How to reload it, how to take it apart, how to turn the safety off and on. More than once, she grips his shoulders and corrects his posture. Complaints are thrown left and right, Creed insisting they begin the actual shooting part. She grumbles about impatient men, comparing him to his brother. That causes me to exhale an almost laugh, which earns a dirty look from the woman.

In case I've forgotten we aren’t friends.

I sit criss-cross on the ground, running the tips of my fingers through blades of grass. Every now and again, a grasshopper will pass over one of my hands. Eyes cast down, I don’t notice Creed has advanced in his lessons until a shot rings out. My whole body lurches, and I clap my hands over my ears. Creed’s head whips towards me, his eyes as big as I’ve ever seen them. I offer a shaky thumbs up.

Again and again, Creed aims at painted milk jugs in the distance. Out of a dozen, he only skims the edge of one. Sylvie attempts to give him guidance, but he’s too excited to be a good student. The cacophony of echoed blasts has me biting my nails to the quick. People mull around the camp in every direction, no one else batting an eye.

His aim doesn’t improve. Sylvie eventually cuts him off, explaining that they don’t have the ammo to waste. He sneers, but relents, sulking toward me like a scolded child.

“How did I do?”

“It was…”I glance at his hopeful smile.“Loud.”

Creed tsks, pointedly turning his back on me.

Sylvie tucks the handgun back into a large duffel bag, filled to the brim with various firearms and ammo. With any luck, it will be kept far from Creed.

“Now what?”He asks.

“Self-defense.”She dusts her hands off on her jeans.

We follow her to the mat on the opposite end of the camp. The very same mat Jasper attacked Cecil on a few weeks back. My stomach roils.

Sylvie steps onto the mat first. Her hand disappears into the waistband of her pants, and it comes back holding a black rectangle. A blade, I think. Cecil has one similar. It hits the ground with a thunk, and she signs,“Come on.”

Creed takes a step forward, but she’s quick to shake her head, ebony hair brushing golden shoulders.

“Not you.”Her gaze falls on me, and the coward I am, I shrink. “You.”

Trust is rare for me as is, but with the woman in front of me, it’s nonexistent. There’s an unspoken rivalry—like we’re opponents in a game that I don’t know the rules to.

I shift nervously on my feet.“I don’t know.Cecil says-”

“Oh, God,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes up into her head. I frown. “Fuck what Cecil says. His infatuation with you is gonna get you killed.”

Infatuation? Withme? She must misunderstand.

My eyes dart to Creed, but his freckled face is screwed up in concentration as he watches her lips.

Without an ally to fall back on, I flounder. Sylvie studies me, and though it appears to physically pain her, her stiff posture falls. Her tone is a fraction softer when she speaks again.

“Men are like toddlers. When they find something they like, they hold it in their fist and refuse to let go.” She raises a hand in between us, grasping an invisible object. “And you know what happens? Eventually, they crush it.” Suddenly, her fingers clench into a tight fist. I wince.

Cecil says he won’t let anything happen to me, and I believe him, but I can’t help the fleck of doubt.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize Sylvie has stepped closer until she’s within arms reach. She leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“It might feel like protection, but it will cost you. I promise.”

Skeptical, I peer at the woman. A question forms in my mind. Unsure if I want to know the answer or not, I ask anyway.

“Is that what he did to you?”

Sylvie smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.