Of Shadows and Obsession by Sarah Fine

Author:Sarah Fine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
Published: 2015-06-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

I MISS THE FIREWORKS.

By the time I come back to myself, it is nearly morning, and the blood has dried, and all that is left is to wash up and clean up.

And breathe.

It is harder than it has been in a long, long time.

Part of me wants to remain on the floor and simply let myself die. I could do it. No one would find me if I didn’t want them to, not even Guiren. I could end this now. I could surrender. Maybe it should have happened a long time ago. Maybe I was never meant to live in the first place. I should have died on the killing floor.

I should be dead. Really, truly dead.

But . . . what would have happened to Wen last night if I was? The thought is whispered into my ear like it comes from somewhere else, someone else. One way or another, that man would have killed Guiren’s precious treasure-box girl. If I hadn’t stopped him, right now Wen would be living the last few terror-filled days of her life.

It is enough to get me to my feet. It is enough to move my hands and inflate my lungs and blot out the memory of those faces, staring at me. Temporarily, at least.

Bit by bit, I start to clean up. I set two sweeper spiders going and they take care of the mess on the floor. While they scuttle back and forth, I read the prayers I collected the night before to get my mind back on my usual tasks. Minny from the cafeteria has written a wish, asking that the Ghost grant her a healthy birth for her child. I can’t do that. But Minny is kind and a hard worker, and I want her to have something. So I will grant the wish of her supervisor, Lin, who is asking that the seal on the freezer door work properly so the meat stops thawing out. If Lin has her wish, perhaps she will be in a generous mood and go easy on Minny in these last weeks of her pregnancy. That is something I can do.

Gathering my tools keeps my eye away from the shards of mirror glass piling up in the corner. I do not want to see my face, not right now. It hasn’t bothered me for a few years. I’m so used to looking at it that it almost seems normal until I am near people who have two eyes and two hands and faces that are symmetrical, with smooth flesh wrapped over smooth muscle wrapped over smooth bone.

I’m used to watching them now from a safe distance, as if I really were a floating spirit, invisible and untouchable. I like to see what goes on, what makes these people move and keeps them still, what makes them angry and what captures their hearts. I have been content to observe for so long now that it seemed like enough. It wasn’t until last night with Wen that I realized how much more I want.

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