only way to kill the beast is through this tattoo. Two weeks ago, Clara had completed the outline and much of the shading. It had been a grueling five-hour session. Today we finish it. Knowing it’s on my back, this reminder, sickens me and pleases me simultaneously. The buzzing creates a trance-like blanket in my head.
Everyone here, while outgoing, seems to go through periodic cycles of withdrawal, times when they just didn’t feel like dealing with other people. We all seem to be like that. I try to conjure up a memory from before I arrived but they’re foggy. The smell of the beer that my pop drank. A blurry outline of my mama’s figure. No details. No true memories. They’ve been stripped clean. Taken from me. Beaten and tricked out of me. I trust my feelings. I trust what my instincts tell me about situations and other people but I can’t truly recall my life before Ravenbrook.
The threat of inflicting pain triggers fears that can be far more damaging than the actual sensation of it. We’re all on edge. Twenty-two’s gaze is dull, his face blank. The other students’ reactions, when they do react, frighten me with their dislocated calmness. Is that how we all appear now? Am I like that? Our enhanced interrogation saga has concluded and we’re allowed to return our rooms. I sleep on the floor. The bed is too supple now.
“I found a stray and Mum won’t let me keep it,” Allie pouts from the back door. My brain snaps from its morbid deliberations. She’s setting a bowl of tuna down for a rusty-colored, skinny cat.
“Allie!” Clara scolds.
“What?”
“That was rude.”
“It’s all right,” I mutter from my prone position. My skin feels raw under the gun, like a sunburn being repeatedly slapped as she shades in a section of wing.
“Ask Pepper,” I offer. Clara snorts and Allie’s pout deepens. The cat rubs against her, purring.
“Dad said, ‘No way in hell kiddo,’ and then gave me a noogie.”
I try not to laugh at Allie’s impersonation of Sawyer.
“But, Greta, look at him. He needs a home. Someone has to love him and keep him warm. I mean what happens when school starts and I can’t be here as much? What if he dies!?” she shrieks.
“Allie, we’ve talked about this. Dom is allergic to cats. Sawyer said no. The cat has survived this long alone. He will be fine.”
The look on Allie’s face is devastating. Survived . Alone . Her words play on repeat in my head.
“I will take the cat,” I state.
Allie’s face breaks into a brilliant smile. She leans to the cat’s head and whispers, “Did you hear that, buddy?” Clara stops the tattoo gun.
“Greta. No. You don’t have to do that. Allie would save every. Single. Animal. If I let her.”
“It’s okay,” I answer, watching the cat soak up all of Allie’s affections. “I want to.”
*
The last three weeks have been utterly uneventful. Morning workouts with Pepper. Lounging around my apartment. Waiting for my next target. Reading. Meeting Hoot out for a nightcap and family dinner nights. Rinse and repeat. A scratching at my kitchen window lets me know that Stray is ready to come in. Apparently he enjoys walking the roofline. I imagine the view is killer.
“You’re pathetic.” I let Stray inside and he makes a beeline for my bedroom. I follow the cat Allie conned me into taking into the room at the back of the apartment where Stray has taken up residence on my bed. He purrs in greeting and then stretches out over the crisp sheets. “Get off.” Stray stretches and rolls over. He chuffs a sigh and is then quiet. Stripping off my damp gym clothes, I toss them into the laundry basket and then make my way into the sweltering bathroom. I turn the water toward cold and step into the spray, leaning against the cool tile.
In three hours I need to be ready for Pepper’s wedding. She is so excited. Not a drop of nervous in her. It’s refreshing to see someone so confident in their love. Today has been a whirlwind of
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Laurent Gounelle
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins
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