For the first time in years, I am not afraid.
I should be, I know. Nothing has changed. Nothingwillchange. She is a new relief, and a new treasure to lose. I won’t survive it when that is stolen from me too.
But for this moment, when I want to tell her the whole truth, when I want to give in and let our souls connect, the light is so bright I could almost believe I could reach it.
If only those moments could last.
“I am not different,” I grind out. I stand, and she stumbles back from me. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you will ever mean anything to me.”
“That’s not the mistake I’m making,” she tells me. She looks down at her hands.
I blink, uncertain of her meaning.
“I’m making the mistake of thinking you’re human.” Her kind eyes find mine again, but she doesn’t move from her place kneeling on the floor. “I’m making the mistake of believing you feel shame and regret. You want to be different. You want to be better.”
I swallow.
“And if you’re not different,” she tells me, her eyes searching mine so deeply I fear she will actually see me.
I take a step away from her. What if she knows? What if she sees the secret I hide?
“If you’re not different, then that means there are more like you.”
I jerk back.
She rises to her feet. Her shoulders straight and chin up. I often think of her as a dove that needs protecting. Sometimes, I forget that she can fly.
“I’m making the mistake,” she continues, “of believing there is good here. There is something worth saving.”
“Thinking like that will get you killed,” I say through gritted teeth. I am surprised when she doesn’t flinch. “Trust no one. Wish for nothing because the moment you find any ounce of happiness, it will be used against you and then destroyed.”
She smiles.
My eyes widen. I can’t help it. I’m struck by her light. How, in this place, is she still so fucking bright? Why is she smiling? How?
“It’s scary,” she tells me. “Hope is really scary.”
My chest tightens. She’s even more incredible than I’d ever imagined.
“But life is not worth living without it.”
I press my eyes closed. I wish I could give in. I wish I could have her strength. Her fight. Her body is so small. She is delicate. Vulnerable. And yet, I’ve never seen a soul so strong.
I don’t think she even realizes how strong she is. It’s terrifying.
“Here, life only continues with surrender. Surrender, Little Dove. Surrender or this gets so much worse.”
44
Lina
“Welcome, Lina!”
My brow pinches at the bright eyes and smiles that greet me when I enter the meeting hall. I blink to process the new reality and shed the heaviness of sleep.
They don’t usually use my name here. I am Drahkita. Not Lina.
Helena squeezes my arm tightly.
