Page 85 of Was I Ever Real
I could say I miss the feel of her long hair in my hands. But why would I? When I’m faced with the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Her shaved head only accentuates her fierceness. No longer hidden, it now sits unabashedly at the forefront of her.
When we finally step out of the shower, I wrap a large, fluffy towel around her body. She leans on the counter, keeping her hip uncovered while I reach for the first aid kit under the sink.
I pull out what I need to disinfect it, crouching down to have a better look. Lenix stands stoic the whole time while I take care of the wound. I whisper soft words of praise and for once she lets me. Her fingers find my hair, teasing the strands distractedly as if just needing something of me to hold.
When the clean bandage is finally hiding the horrors of her past, I lead her back into the room and give her a large t-shirt of mine to wear. It’s barely evening but it doesn’t matter, I’m desperate to have her close and in my arms.
I pull on a fresh pair of boxers, climb into bed, and reach out for her, dragging her into my chest. Her body melts against me, one long leg over mine, her head tucked over my heart. Her hand finds my neck and face, the other finding my own and squeezing it three times. Her eyes close almost immediately. I watch her sleep for what feels like hours, lost in my own haunting thoughts, wondering how I’ll ever be worthy of her love.
She is Lilith personified.
And I am the devil at her feet.
Chapter 47
It’searlymorningasI stand in front of the guest room. I must have slept for over fifteen hours. I woke up disoriented, fear piercing my heart as my foggy brain took in the room I was in. Then I felt Connor beside me in bed and the relief was indescribable. I doubt we’ll see news coverage of the fire. It’s not over entirely, but hopefully having cut off the head of the snake will be enough to deter the others from ever retaliating. Most of the people in Sacro Nuntio are innocent… like my mother. No matter how much she hates me now. She’s a victim like us all.
I knock on the door. A few seconds later it creaks open and Lucy appears in the small opening. Her face brightens when she sees me and I feel like sobbing. Opening the door wider, she falls into my arms and I hug her like I'm about to lose her all over again.
“Penelope,” she whispers into my neck, squeezing me tightly. I have a small reflex to tell her, now that we’re out, to call me Lenix but decide against it. She’s been through enough change, she can call me whatever she wants if it means having her in my life.
“Can I come in?”
She pulls away and smiles. “Of course.”
I notice she’s wearing some of my clothes, a loose long-sleeve shirt and—
“You’re wearing jeans,” I say in disbelief as I walk into the room.
Women were never allowed to wear pants in Sacro Nuntio.
She giggles softly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
I’m suddenly so proud of her. To leave, knowing your whole life is about to be turned upside down, and I savor this small defiance she’s allowed herself by choosing pants instead of a dress. This is only the beginning, she has a long road of discovery in front of her. While I was forced to do it on my own, I’m so relieved I can be here for her as she explores the outside world.
We sit on the bed, our knees touching each other, hands intertwined. I study her face for a few seconds, allowing myself to take her in as slowly and as long as I want to. Feeling like this is the first time I’m truly seeing her, without the weight of the commune hindering us.
Her curls are similar to how mine were, but looser, light brown instead of my black. Her skin tone is the same as mine, except hers looks like she’s never really basked in the sun like I have. She has a splatter of freckles across her cheeks and has some of the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen. Dark green, with flecks of gold, seeming to change hues depending on the light.
I’m suddenly hit with such melancholy realizing how much I’ve missed, her most formative years now behind us. I need to close my eyes to stomach the wave crashing over me. When I finally catch my breath, I turn my gaze back to hers and squeeze her hands.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy…” I rasp.
“Don’t,” she says quietly, her eyes shining with tears. “Don’t take the blame for the actions of others.”
“I could have tried harder. I could have tried to get you out,” I say in a choked whisper.
I chastise myself for just thinking about me and the fear that kept me gone and hiding.
She smiles softly. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to leave until now. Would you really have been able to raise a child on your own?” she says with a shrug and then looks at me with a serious, almost knowing expression. “This was the path God chose for me.”
I scoff, slightly angered. “How can you still believe in God, Lucy? After all ofthis?” I say waving my hand around the room to better drive in my point.
She watches me, her expression never wavering and gives me another small smile. “God did not do this to me. Fredrick did.”
“God never protected us,” I snip. The same fury I felt before killing our brother crawls back up my throat.
“But God brought us back together,” she replies reverently.