Page 129 of Viper

I hear Fallon’s question forming, coming out only as half a word, then he’s in front of me gripping my shoulders, forcing me to look at him.

“What happened,syn?”

I want to tell him his accent is coming through, but think better of it when I see his face. It’s all contorted and twisted. He’s pretty, the way men shouldn’t be. Black hair. Long nose. Eyes like a cold sky. But all that prettiness looks distorted and crumbled now.

“He tried to cleanse me, but I did nothing wrong,” I tell Fallon, and his face flattens. Turns hard.

“Explain.”

I don’t want to explain. So I keep my mouth shut.

“What the fuck?” Cook shouts from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and find him staring down at Brother and the blood pooling on the magazine under his thin shoulders.

Cook’s eyes meet mine.

I press my mouth closed tighter.

“Get Maxim,” Father says to Cook as he grips my hand. His gaze falls to Brother, and when he sees the magazine, he turns hard, mean-looking. He leans over and grabs the end of the little knife and pulls it from Brother’s eye.

Blood gushes and squirts out, like from a ketchup bottle.

Brother doesn’t make a sound.

“Tell me why you were in here with him,” Father asks, his eyes darting in every direction before landing on my belt. He lets out a garbled sound and swipes the blade clean across his chest, leaving a trail of red. “Did your brother bring you in here?”

I nod, too scared to speak, but know I need to say something so I don’t get in more trouble. I point to the magazine. “He said we could do that.”

Father’s jaw pops, and he glares at Brother, who still hasn’t moved.

I think I hurt him really badly.

“He tried…” Father doesn’t finish the question, and I’m glad. I don’t want to explain that my vision got strange and all I could see was the purging room. “Has someone—” He seems to forget how to speak for a second, then points to the magazine. “Has someone done that to you before?”

I look away, not liking how his eyes have gone from cold and hard to soft. I know when someone is feeling sorry for me. Sister Blair used to look at me that way every time she led me away from the room after my cleansing.

Guess she didn’t feel bad enough because she would always lead me back the next week. Maybe she was scared of Headmistress Isla too.

“Yes,” I tell him. “The first time it was because I touched the altar and knocked over the saint. Then I had to do a cleansing.”

I place my hand on my belt to show him. Father’s hand clasps over mine. His eyes move to brother, then to the magazine. Father’s shoulders lift as he takes in a deep breath, making the buttons on his vest pull. I think for a minute they may pop off, but he exhales. He glances over at Brother, who still hasn’t moved, and my skin grows hot.

“Cleansing?” Father asks. “Who—” He clears his throat. Licks his lips. I’ve never seen Father so upset before, and itmakes me feel all squirmy inside. Like maybe I did something bad. But if I did something bad, he’d be taking me to my room or solitary, not messing up his words.

“Headmistress Isla,” I say. “She said I needed it weekly. That my soul was corrupt.” I point to the places that were cleansed. Father frowns. Then I say, “I had to cleanse her too.”

Father’s face goes white. He stands up quickly and grabs my hand, pulling me from the room. I realize Cook is gone, and I forgot to tell Father that’s where Brother got the idea, but I figure it’s best to keep my mouth shut.

Father leads me to his office, and he shuts the door, sitting me in a chair then crouches before me. His eyes look strange, sort of like a wild animal.

“No one will ever do that to you again,” Father says. “I will make sure of it. Sister Isla will never touch another child again.”

I’m not sure if I believe him, but I like he said it, anyway. I always worried she cleansed the others, but never asked. I didn’t want anyone to know I had to be cleansed so often. That I was so full of sin.

He holds up the letter opener. “You were smart. Quick to defend yourself.” He glances down at the blade. “Do you like this?”

I point to the snake curled around the handle. “I like that.”

“Do you know what type of snake this is?” he asks, pointing to the metal serpent.