Page 125 of A Silence So Divine

“You need a haircut,”I tell him.

Creed raises his brow, then his hand, tugging at the unruly auburn locks. A piece falls across his forehead. He blows out a puff of air, and it dances across his hairline.

A fond smile stretches over my lips.

“Maybe tomorrow you can cut it.”

The smile dies on my lips quicker than it came.

My heart aches to tell him, but it’s not a viable option. I can’t bear to look him in the eye and tell him come tomorrow, I’ll be gone.

Instead, I reply with a noncommital,“Maybe.”

I keep my face as impassive as I can, but as always, Creed sees right through me. Sitting forward, he brings a hand to my face.

“Are you nervous?”He asks.

“Aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

I throw my hands up as if to say,Well, there ya go.

Creed sighs, leaning his head back onto the headboard with a dull thunk.“We won’t let anything happen to you,”he assures.“Cecil and I.”

Guilt has tears burning in the backs of my eyes. I angle my head to hide them. “Some things you can’t control.”

I trace the patterns on the velvet quilt idly, feigning interest so I don’t have to look at him. A hand covers my own. I peek at my best friend.

“You’re a survivor, Eden. Remember that.”

When a tear spills over, I don’t bother brushing it away. Creed catches it and gives me a reassuring grin. There’s a scar on his lip from where his brother hit him. It’s so out of place, and I can’t fathom any harm coming to him.

It hits me with startling clarity that I may have to give my life for his.

And I will.

“You are, too.”

The Refuge is eerily silent. Everyone sits outside their respected homes, waiting patiently for instruction. Members of all ages have joined. A group of teenagers huddle together, speaking in whispers. An elderly couple stand side by side and sip from mugs, unphased by the impending doom.

Most brandish weapons, and everyone is clad in either shades of brown or black. Glancing down at myself, I wonder if the sky blue of my t-shirt will put even more of a target on my back. Doesn’t matter either way, I suppose.

It’s nearing 10 a.m., but the skies have darkened and given the world a sense of timelessness. It’s both foreboding and comforting.

Creed and I sit pressed together on a log, the bouncing of his leg jostling the right side of my body. It doesn’t bother me, though. I welcome the distraction, no matter how slight.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I peer behind me. Veda stands with a grim smile on her lips, raising her hands. In one hand she holds a comb, the other a hair tie.

“May I?” She asks, motioning to my long tresses. I’m unsure of her intentions, but it’s the very least of my concerns, so I face forward and shrug my shoulders.

The comb against my scalp sends a shiver down my spine. For a brief moment, I’m reminded of the feel of fingers in my hair, down my neck, across my spine. My eyes seek out Cecil instantly, and I shift nervously on the stump when I spot him.

With the way Papa spoke of adult relations, I expected myself to feel shameful. He had told me that men take advantage, and that if I were found, sex would be used as a weapon against me.

But I don’t feel embarrassed, or tainted. Instead, I feel… invigorated. Proud. I never knew I was capable of such things.

And if I’m to die today? I couldn't ask for a greater last night alive.