Page 32 of Corpse Roads
Pale-blue walls meet grey carpets, contrasting the lines of dark, polished wood. The room is dominated by a large bed with two bright, multi-coloured lamps on either side.
They remind me of the stained-glass windows in the chapel, dappling coloured shadows across the walls. Huge windows have been cut into the ceiling, revealing the gleam of starlight.
I peek in the attached bathroom, finding even more luxury. Just the idea of running water and a real toilet makes my eyes burn with tears. I’ve gotten used to the degradation of a bucket.
“We don’t have guests often,” Enzo says as he finishes fluffing the pillows. “Hunter’s parents come and visit sometimes.”
Running a hand over the fluffy, grey bedspread, I feel even worse for disgracing this beautiful room. The sheets are crisp and smell like summer nights, full of floral blooms. It was a luxury when that rare scent filtered into the basement.
“I don’t know what to say,” I reply in a tiny voice.
“You don’t need to say anything.” He watches me take in the room, wearing another reluctant smile. “Make yourself at home.”
I run my fingers over the smooth wood of the bedside table, marvelling at the softness of everything. There’s no dripping water, mould or piles of bones. Nothing but clean lines and luxury.
Enzo ducks out, returning with my paper bag of medications and another bottle of water. I accept the pills he drops into my palm without question. I’m hurting too much to care.
“Do you need anything else? I’m no good at sponge baths, but I can show you how to use the shower.”
The thought of anything else today makes me want to run and scream. It’s all too much. My eyes are drooping with fatigue.
“I’m good, Nurse Enzo,” I joke, pulling back the covers on the bed. “Do you mind if I go to sleep?”
“Of course not. My room is across the hall. If you need anything in the night, just shout. I don’t sleep much, so I’ll hear.”
Enzo backtracks, flicking off flights on the way out. Before he disappears, I call his name, mustering a small smile.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for… well, everything.” I unclip my sling to avoid meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you guys didn’t find me.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“Yes, I do. No one’s ever looked out for me before.”
Enzo rubs the back of his neck, his stubble-strewn cheeks heating up. The sight makes my toes curl in the most extraordinary way. I have no idea what this weird feeling in my belly means.
“You’re welcome, Harlow. Get some sleep, alright?”
The door clicks shut behind him. I tentatively climb into the bed, keeping my borrowed clothes in place. The idea of being naked in an unknown place is not appealing.
Everything about this room is so wrong. Laying down, the bed cradles my battered body, and the pillows are softer than air. I’d be more comfortable sleeping in someone else’s blood.
Sinners don’t deserve clothes or food.
Stop your whining or I’ll give you something to cry about.
I stare up at the ceiling. I’m too exhausted to even sleep, my senses on high alert despite my safe surroundings. It’s all so new and unknown. I can’t handle it.
Leaving the comfort of the bed, I curl up on the carpet in the furthermost corner, keeping a direct view of the door. My broken ribs hate the position, but the pain is a familiar comfort. It reminds me of home.
As sleepless hours pass, I let my flimsy pretence crumble into ruin. My sobs grow louder, more frantic, forcing me to bite down on my fist to remain silent. I don’t want anyone to hear me.
I cry until nothing remains in me but broken pieces that I can never fix. I cry for the girl I used to be. I cry for the girl I am now. I cry for all those who lost their lives while I remained alive.
But most of all, I cry because I have no idea what lies ahead. For the first time in my life, I have a potential future. Hope. Maybe a fresh start. That’s more terrifying than any punishment I’ve endured.
CHAPTER 7