Page 2 of She Walks with Broken Things

The sound came from inside the house

“Shit.” Vivienne’s snarl followed.

I gripped the kitchen bench as a door opened and light spilled across the floor. Vivienne strode out, head down clutching an empty cup, oblivious, until she wasn’t. She stopped, lifted her gaze.

Her eyes widened before she scanned the hallway behind me. “Shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”

I shook my head.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.” I shifted my focus to the study she came from. “You’re working late.”

“Trying.” She headed for the kitchen. “I’m making a coffee, just spilled my last one all over the damn floor. It was cold anyway. Want one?”

“Sure.”

She moved around the kitchen, boiling the jug and grabbed a fresh cup from up high. “I swear between dresses, flowers and moody damn men I’m about to go insane.”

“The…ball?”

She poured, added a dash of milk and pushed a half filled cup my way. “I’ll be glad when it’s all done.”

I slid the fingers of my left hand through the handle, gripped it hard and followed as she snatched a towel from the bench and strode toward the study. Coffee sloshed against the edges as I limped, trying to steady the spill as much as possible. They didn’t treat me like a cripple. Didn’t look at me with pity.

We were all broken in our own way.

Mine was just… seen on the outside.

Files were splayed across the floor. Images of the Daughters pinned to some. Vivienne pulled out a chair for me as she set her cup down and went to work mopping up the spill and then stopped. Her head bowed, fingers clenched around the cloth. “I just need to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

I placed the cup on the dresser and came closer, bending slowly as the pressure built. My knee howled instantly.

“Don’t.” Vivienne shook her head.

I didn’t stop. I clenched my jaw—my belly tightening as I lowered myself further. I knew what it’d cost. I did it anyway. My bad knee gave way. Agony roared, sharp and sudden as I crashed to the floor harder than I meant to. My breath caught—then vanished. I swallowed it down. Forcing it somewhere deeper. Because this wasn’t about me. My hand found hers. “Look at me.”

Her eyes shone with fresh tears.

“Everything is going to be perfect tomorrow.” I held her stare. “It will be, you watch. The Daughters are going to meet these men, and it’ll go off perfectly. When it’s over, every Daughter will be safe, and it will be because of you. You’ve done all you can. They know this and they trust you.”

A tear slipped free. She brushed it away fast. “They will?”

“I know it.” I whispered. “Don’t you know how much they love you?”

She dragged me close, gripping my shoulders. This was as close to a hug as you got with Vivienne and I took it, letting her breathe until she slowly came back to herself.

“Now…” I murmured. “You might need to help me back up.”

She laughed. Soft at first. Then real. She swiped the back of her hand under her nose and rose, gripping my hands and gently pulled me up.

The sound hit me harder than it should have. Sharp. Unexpected. It sank somewhere deeper—somewhere I didn’t go anymore. Something in my chest tightened. A space I didn’t touch—didn’t let myself touch. I looked down instead, focusing on the floor as I sat back against the chair and reached for my coffee. My hands trembled. I gripped the cup tighter than I needed to…and drank.

She talked and I listened. Jobs. Housing. Men who were thinking about coming. Men Vivienne was careful not to pressure. Unconventional. That word came up a number of times as though what came before had simply been the conventional version. Women offered up. Men who took. The only difference now was the word ‘choice’ sitting somewhere in the middle of it. I wondered if the Daughters would feel it—that difference—when tomorrow night came. If it’d feel like freedom or just a more guilted version of the same cold altar.

“Do you think some might find…I dunno.” I murmured softly. “Love?”

She cut me a careful look. “Love? Maybe. I hope so, as much love as we can find after what we’ve been through.”