Filed To Story: Wild Dark Shore Book PDF Free by Charlotte McConaghy
Rowan
I am going to miss waking to the sound of his voice more than, perhaps, anything.
“That’s a good one,” I say when he is finished.
“Right?”
“Is it on the list?”
“No.”
The water in the vault was knee-high when we last left-it will be higher again now. Several of the lower shelves are submerged, there are containers floating listlessly. I wonder what this family intends to do with my husband. If they have decided his cell shall become his grave, too.
“The lower storage area will start to fill up soon,” I say.
Orly frowns. What do I mean?
“Down the air shaft. Water will start getting in there. It’ll fill up. So if there’s anything down there, you and your dad should think about moving it now.”
He flushes a little, then nods. He is bound to be confused by my pointedness, but I don’t think he will read the subtext behind the words; he is far too trusting to think I wouldn’t be up-front about what I know. Orly jumps off my bed and I hear his feet slapping down the stairs.
I rise and stand by the window. Though it’s morning, it’s almost dark enough to be night. Birds whoosh by, pinwheeled by the wind. There comes a rolling grumble of thunder. The storm has not abated, instead it seems to be gathering steam. It might be as violent as the night I washed up here. It might be worse.
I dress warmly, protectively. Mentally I am arming myself. I don’t know what I am going to do today, but I am going to do something.
There is a kind of mewling coming from the walls. An animal whimper. It is not the first time I have heard strange noises drifting to me on eddies but it is the most substantial. I press my hands to the stone and follow the grooves with my fingers. The sound comes again, a little louder: there is a creature in pain. I am able to trace it down the staircase to the bathroom.
I knock on the door. “Fen?”
“Who’s with you?”
“No one, it’s just me.”
I hear a scuffle and the door opens. She’s already moving back to the empty bathtub, where she sits hunched over, in bra and undies.
“What’s going on?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
“Lock it.”
I do. “Fen. What’s-are you okay?” I sink down beside her. Her face is puffy, she’s been crying. There is some blood in the tub.
“Don’t be nice to me,” she says.
“Does your period always hurt like this?”
She nods.
“Have you taken painkillers?”
Another nod. “We don’t have any pads left and I keep bleeding through tampons so I have to stay here.”
“Okay. Do you want the shower on? Might help with the cramps.”
“I’ve already had my shower minutes.”
I turn on the shower, getting the water nice and warm for her. We both watch as the smears of blood trickle away down the drain. Her underwear gets wet but she doesn’t mind.
Someone knocks on the door. “Piss off,” I yell, and they do, I guess.
“Does yours hurt like this?” she asks me.
“It did at your age. I remember feeling crippled by it. It gets less painful with time.”
“Thank god. Having a baby is not worth this.”
I smile. “Most women would say it is.”
“But not you.” She says this like a statement but when she looks at me, I can see it’s a question.
I shrug, can’t bring myself to meet her eyes. I am starting to realize my answer isn’t as simple as it once was and there is a hidden world of pain here for me.
“I thought I was pregnant,” Fen says abruptly and now I do look at her, I stare at her in shock.
“When?”
“Before you came. I wasn’t. It was just late.”
The question is very loud between us, but I don’t ask it. It’s not my business.
She asks it for me. “Don’t you want to know who?”
I don’t reply.
Fen starts to cry again and I get a bad feeling in my guts.
“Let’s just get you sorted,” I say briskly. “We can get some cloth for you to use instead of a pad. And I’ll get you some more painkillers.”
“I need to tell you who.”