Page 57 of This Vicious Hunger

Chapter Thirty-Four

I ’m leaving.”

Olea is still on the floor where Petaccia abandoned her. I know I should go to her. I want to go to her, but I refuse to let her convince me to stay here. It doesn’t matter what Petaccia believes; I have to see the effects of the antidote for myself.

Olea doesn’t react. She barely even looks at me. I reach the doorway before adding, “Are you coming?”

“Why.” She punctuates the question with such force an answer seems near pointless. Then she adds, softer, “We can’t go anywhere.”

“I think it’s long past the time we trust that woman without any sort of proof,” I say snidely. “Don’t you think? She’s been lying to you your whole life and you still eat up everything she says. Why don’t you grow a backbone?”

“You say that as if it’s easy.” Olea sighs. She looks frail—not in her body exactly, not like before, but she still holds herself as though she is exhausted. “Florencia’s my—”

“You don’t have to call her your mother,” I cut her off. I try to soften my tone but I’m antsy now. I need to get out of this cellar. “No matter what she says. This is a woman who’s kept you on reins, poisoned you daily for her own scientific beliefs.”

“She raised me,” Olea says quietly. “Every thought I have, every belief, every doubt, is one she’s planted there in my mind.

It doesn’t matter what she is to me—she’s right about that.

There were times I wished she was my mother, though.

” She lets out a bitter half laugh. “Can you believe that? I dreamt that she would come to me one day and say, ‘Well done, Olea, you’ve done your duty. We’ve found the cure.

The experiment is over. Let’s take you home and you can meet your siblings and all of these friends who are waiting for you.

’ And we would ride off together to a little house on the edge of a big old city, and I’d never have to see or touch another plant ever again. ”

“Olea—”

“Let me talk.” She blows out a puff of air. “How can I simply turn that kind of feeling off? She’s the only constant in my whole life. Everything she told me, I believed. Every meal I ate, every scrap of clothing on my back, everything comes from her.”

“She abused you,” I say firmly. “You don’t have to be grateful to her for this.”

“I’m not grateful,” Olea snaps. “But I can’t just turn it off. I have to have some faith.”

“She’s not somebody either of us should ever be putting our faith in.

” I run my hands through my hair, feel its silky length with a resentful kind of thrill.

“To think, she talked about supporting women in science. That’s how she drew me in.

I’d have taken anything she gave me, swallowed any pill as long as she told me to, so I understand a little.

I was happy just to break free and be out here on my own.

But no, she sold me a dream of partnership.

And I fell for it. All I’m saying is, now isn’t the time to wish we’d done things differently. ”

Olea stares at her hands in her lap, examining their new pallor. She doesn’t speak. I stand in the centre of the room flexing the muscles in my hands, arms, calves, feeling the push and pull. Petaccia is right about this at least: I already feel stronger.

“Are you coming?” I say again. “ Olea. No? Fine. I’ll go alone.”

I stalk up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

I’m not sure I could have managed that before, but the thought is fleeting.

I don’t know what I’m planning to do; I don’t know anything other than I can’t stay here and I want to prove Petaccia wrong.

I make it to the next floor, halfway across the room, before Olea catches up to me.

“Thora, wait.” I turn, trying to hide my relief. I don’t know what I’m doing, true, but I’d rather not have to do any of it alone. “You can’t go out there.”

The relief sours in my stomach. “Olea—”

“The sun,” she blurts. “If we’re still… If we’re like I was before. I…”

“The antidote was supposed to cure ,” I remind her.

“Florencia said—”

“Fuck Florencia!” I shout. The word feels so good to say, ripping off all restraints. “For god’s sake. Do you still believe every little thing she tells you?”

“You saw the hares,” Olea says, as fierce as I am. “Stop treating me like I’m stupid. I’m not stupid, Thora. Just because I’ve been sheltered here doesn’t mean I know nothing. Or have you forgotten that I’m the one who taught you half of what you know?”

“That was different.”

“Oh, it’s always different when it’s what you think. I’m telling you to be cautious. At least grab one of the parasols.”

I don’t have the patience for this. I can’t describe what’s come over me, but it’s like a fog has lifted.

Everything stands in sharp relief, magnified by a thousand—even my frustration.

I march to the window, ignoring Olea’s protests.

She backs away, grabbing a shawl from the chaise and covering her head and shoulders.

I claw at the shutters. Maybe Olea is right and this is stupid; I remember the heat of the sun when she was out there, dying.

But I don’t care. I need to know, I need —

I fling them open.

Golden sunlight streams into the room, illuminating Olea’s tapestries, her books and trinkets, the faded fleur-de-lis pattern on her chaise. She blinks, stunned, shielding her face with her hand.

“You see?” I demand. “Lies, all of it.”

“No, but sometimes it’s worse than others,” Olea murmurs. “Some days it’s stronger. You still need to be careful.”

“She’s a liar , Olea. She’s indoctrinated you. Stop taking her word for it.”

“Or maybe the toxicity is just waning, like she said. There are so many answers we don’t have. How can you just assume she’s lying about everything? She’s the one who pushed for this; she’s the one who said we could make it happen. We died .”

“I only have her word that it happened to me too.”

“You’re being obstinate for no reason!” Olea exclaims.

“I’m not. I’m trying to establish that everything we’ve been told, everything we’ve believed, could easily be an untruth.

I know you’re frightened to go against her, but I’m trying to show you that we have to, Olea.

The only people we can trust right now are ourselves.

We’re the ones who have to live with this.

And I genuinely don’t think us arguing about this is going to help.

So, I will ask one final time: Are you coming with me? ”

“No. Because you shouldn’t go. If we’re in this together, then why are you so quick to leave?”

“Why are you so quick to want to stay?” I return coldly.

I shake my head, forging towards the door.

Olea rushes after me, reaching for my arm and trying to pull me back.

I shake her off, thundering out into the garden, where the sun is hot and bright but so, so much better than the darkness of the cellar.

Olea chases me, reaching out again. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I swear. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Olea gapes. “You’re the one who brewed the damn ‘cure’ and made me take it.”

“Oh, that’s rich. I never would have made it if I wasn’t trying to save you.”

“I never asked you to save me!” Olea’s throat cords and the laugh that comes out is verging on hysteria. “I asked you to let me die !” This is good , I think wildly. Let’s get it all out in the open.

“Are you kidding me? You said you’d kill yourself if you had to keep living this way, knowing full well I was trying to save you. How do you think that made me feel? Have you got any idea how manipulative that is?”

“That was never meant to be a threat. I was trying to be honest. I couldn’t take it any more, all the lonely hours and days. But then the universe intervened and now you’re here with me. So why can’t we stay?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “So you got what you wanted, then. You got me where you wanted. You never wanted to leave, did you? Or is it simply Petaccia’s thoughts speaking over your own again?”

“How can you be so cruel?” Olea blinks back tears. “You know it’s not that simple. I never wanted you to sacrifice anything; I just wanted you with me. I wanted you in every way I could have you. I thought you wanted the same thing. You certainly kissed me like you did.”

“I’m not being cruel; I’m making a statement of fact.

You wanted somebody to come and be with you in the garden, since you can’t leave, and now that I’m stuck here I’m sure you’ll be perfectly happy to go about your life as you always have.

I can’t understand why you’re so content to just go on as normal! ”

“Why can’t we?” Olea begs. “Is it really such an awful life? There’s nobody to bother us. You don’t have to worry about money, or finding some replacement husband with your silly friend—”

“You think that’s what I was doing?” I bark. “I told you Leo is my friend .” Was my friend , I remind myself.

“You sure seem friendly with him,” Olea says.

“The way you went on and on about how much he mistrusted me, and how much losing his wife ruined his goddamn life. People don’t have friends like that.

You must have been looking for some kind of security, a backup plan, even if you didn’t know it.

That’s your problem, Thora—you’ve always one foot out the door. ”

“A backup plan,” I repeat coldly.

“Well, it’s hard to imagine you wanting to fuck him.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, but it’s a mixture of anger and something else, something like lust. “What, like I want to fuck you?”

Olea is inches from my face. I can smell her, the mixture of sweat and rose oil, and the bitter scent that is so intrinsically her . She’s right, though. It’s all I want. It’s all I’ve wanted since the moment we met. And, god, it’s probably half the reason we’re in this godforsaken mess.

“You can pretend you’re over the feelings between us,” Olea says.

“Deny it all you want. It’s not my job to convince you to love me.

I’m just saying that this life doesn’t have to be as awful as you imagine it.

You have the whole garden. People have lived many lives in spaces much smaller than this.

We have food, we have books. Florencia will get us whatever we want as long as we help her out with the research.

And you can do your own research too! Whatever you want to do, whatever you want to learn. ”

“You’ve lived like this your whole life, but I haven’t.

Excuse me for having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I’ll never be able to leave without posing a risk to other people.

I won’t be able to travel, to see new things.

How will I be able to continue my research, or do any of the things I wanted? ”

“Were you planning to do all those things anyway? When you arrived here you told me that learning, the university, was your dream. You’re still here.

That hasn’t changed. Why can’t you be content with this life, just for a little while?

We can find a way around this, I promise.

We just have to give it time. That’s why I’m asking you not to go marching off like you’re going to war—you don’t even know what you’re planning. ”

“I swore I would never allow myself to be put in a cage again,” I argue, frustration making my voice ropy.

It hurts that she’s right but that she doesn’t understand why I can’t just roll over and accept this.

“First it was my father and his sepulchre, and then my goddamn husband. This place, learning, was my dream, but it was never just about learning either. It was about the freedom—”

“You can still be free.” Olea tentatively places her hand under my chin. She holds it, her grip surprisingly firm, so I can look nowhere except her soulful eyes. “In here… we can be ourselves. You felt that before, when you kissed me.”

“This isn’t just about our pleasure any more.”

“Why not?” Olea demands. “Are you telling me things are truly better out there? A world with husbands and duty and social graces? The same world you’ve been running from?”

“You don’t understand,” I growl. “You’ve never been out there.”

“I know enough to know that what we have would never be allowed out there. Clara said—”

I rip my chin from Olea’s grasp and turn back to the gate. Olea is right. My father couldn’t stand the idea that I didn’t want to marry, and Aurelio was disgusted by me. Leo can’t even stand himself. But are acceptance and love, if they only exist in a cage, good enough?

“This isn’t about our pleasure,” I say again, firmer. If I say it enough times, maybe it will sink in—and maybe it will assuage the flicker of acknowledgement inside me. “Don’t you dare bring Clara into this. If it wasn’t for you she’d probably still be alive, and I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m just trying to say that the garden isn’t your enemy…”

Olea trails off as I stop. My heart sinks.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “I’m not going to leave.”

“Really?” Olea’s hopefulness is an icy spear through my heart. I turn on her, a snarl on my lips.

“I can’t go even if I want to. The gate is locked. She’s padlocked it from the outside.”