Page 89 of Blade

So she went, because what else was she supposed to do? She went to The Palace, where Dawn gave her a lesson and she wasa good girl. Falling, but making the rotations. Fighting the fear. Folding into the puffer coat, extra long because her mother had just died. Inhaling the smell, the makeup, hairspray, stale coffee on warm breath.

“Don’t go home. Come for dinner.”

She made the stir-fry.

She poured orange soda.

But tonight there were three place mats because “Emile is joining us for dinner. Won’t that be fun? Won’t that make you feel better?”

After the food and the soda, they watched Ana’s program, and then it was time to go and Emile said, “I can drive her home.”

To which Dawn said, “Great.”

But he didn’t bring her home. He turned left at the fork, down the dirt road.

Ana had been in the guest cottage just once before. When Kayla was assaulted.

She was here again, after losing all of them, the Orphans, and now her mother.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

Ana nodded.

Emile got up to grab a beer. As he passed by her, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and she felt a sudden release inside her. Tears began to fall.

“What do you need, Ana?” Emile asked her. Then he took her arm and pulled her to stand.

“I don’t know,” she cried. But this was a lie. In this moment, all she could think was that she needed someone to hold her.

She fell into his body, her head barely reaching the nape of his neck. Wrapped her arms around his waist. Showing him what she needed.

She didn’t care that it felt wrong. She was drowning, and he was there, offering a lifeboat. Just like he’d offered his hand as she lay on the ground outside the snack bar.

He moaned then. Made a sound likemmmmm. Like her body felt good to him.

“Ask me what I want,” he said. His voice was playful.

And she did. She asked, her voice trembling, “What do you want?”

“I want to be the first,” he said. “Do you know what I mean?”

It didn’t matter if she did or if she didn’t. The only thing she knew that mattered in that moment was that she would have sold her soul for the comfort of being held.

“Come on, then,” he said. “Take off your clothes ... lie on the bed for me.”

She walked to the bed. Undressed. Hating herself more and more with each reveal of her body. And more when he climbed on top of her, his head above hers so she couldn’t see his face.

More, when he moved his knee between her thighs, pushing them apart.

More, when she felt him inside her.

Emile hardly noticed the tears that became a waterfall down her face and onto his sheets as her mind filled with thoughts of warm banana bread and colorful scarves. Of bubble gum lip gloss and red hair and Jack Daniel’s.

When it was over, he went to pee, grab a fresh beer, his body moving in the shadows. Ana sat up and wiped her face with the edge of a pillowcase.

“See—it’s no big deal,” he said as he walked back to the bathroom.

She gathered her clothes while he took a shower, then sneaked out the door in the dead of night, into the woods behind the cottage. The woods that led down the mountain.