Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
She shakes her head. “You say that, but I see someone that’s strong in the face of all kinds of shit thrown at her. You aren’t flinging yourself off the nearest cliff. You aren’t weeping about the cruelty of life. You aren’t scared of your shadow. I’ve been watching all of you over the last few days and you’re one of the strongest here. Not physically—mentally. You’ve got your shit together even if you think you don’t. And you’ve tried to help out around camp. Have you seen anyone else helping with the fire?”
“It’s because that’s one of the few things I know.” She makes it sound like that’s a big deal.
“That’s right. And instead of dissembling or picking fights or crying or clinging to the nearest person and begging them to do it for you, you just got to work.” She reaches out and gives my closest limb—my lower leg—a squeeze of affection. “I’m not ragging on the others, mind you. I know just as much as anyone else that you’ve all been thrown into the deep end of the pool. They’ll figure it out. But it helps to have people like you here. I know I don’t have to babysit you.”
But I’m not being strong. I’m just…afraid to ask for help. Afraid to be a bother. And now I’m afraid to correct her assumptions.
She pats my leg again. “Just don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? Once you remember your name, we’ll all call you that. For now, is Vivian okay? Is a female pronoun okay? Or would you prefer something else?”
It’s nice that she asks. I appreciate that. “Maybe Vivi instead. That feels a bit more…me.” I pause and then add, “And female, yes. Definitely female.”
“Vivi, then. Got it.”
I watch Flor as she gets to her feet. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I wish I could be more help. Talking is easy.” She shrugs, offering me a wry look. “I came in here to warn you about resonance, though. It’s totally your call on how much time you want to take with the whole Skarr situation, but I have to point out that the longer you resist, the more resonance is going to push the two of you together. It wants you to have a child together, and it’s going to make you want to jump him despite yourself. If you don’t feel like yourself for the next while—and instead you feel like a much hornier, sexed-up version of yourself—well, you know why.”
Part of me wants to point out that I don’t know what “myself” feels like anyhow, but it just feels like pouting at this point. “So I can’t do anything to avoid resonance? Nothing at all?”
“Not if you want children, ever.”
“And what if I don’t?” I’m still trying to figure my own head out. I don’t have the bandwidth for thinking about children right now.
Flor hesitates, and hope surges up inside me. “So there’s a gal back at camp named Veronica. She has a special khui that lets her heal people. I know it sounds hokey, but it’s true. If you want, she can turn your khui off…but it fucks you up bad.”
“More than being stuck with Skarr for the rest of my life?”
She makes a face. “I’m just saying that there is an answer, but it’s not a good one. Turning the khui off makes you numb to everything. It’s not a solution I’d recommend.”
I nod, but I can’t stop thinking about it, even after Flor gives me a sympathetic pat and leaves.
A healer can turn off my khui. Mute it, so to speak. It’s not a good answer, but it’s an answer. And it’s a hope. I curl my toes in my boots and lie on my back again, staring up at the ceiling.
Do I want children? I genuinely don’t know. It feels like a lower priority right now. Top priority? Figure myself out before I lose my mind.
What little I have, anyhow.
I try to call up the memories of camping with my dad again, but instead, new things float through my head. Things like Skarr spreading his arms as I look at him and giving me that smug expression, like he knows I’m going to find whatever he’s got pleasing.
It’s going to make you want to jump him despite yourself.
As if we’re somehow connected mentally, Skarr laughs outside. I can tell from the distance of the sound that he’s still by the fire, but I can pick out his voice, his tone. He’s louder than the others—because of course he is—but there’s something pleasing about the quality of it. There’s a richness when he speaks, even when he’s saying bullshit. My hand slides to the waist of my pants and then between my thighs. I’m wet and slippery, and I imagine him prowling into the tent, giving me that cocky expression and—