Hush

She hadn’t known she’d taken it until it was in her hands.

April had smiled with relief. She had thought wrongly that things were growing better between the two of them.

They weren’t.

The only reason Orion managed to keep it inside this particular day was because she was shaking off a nightmare and hadn’t had her wits about her. She didn’t make a habit of answering the door to her new apartment, complete with four separate locks she bought and installed herself.

Her lawyer had pulled all sorts of strings to get each of the women declared legally undead. It wasn’t a horribly complicated process, since people apparently came back from the dead often, but it was a lengthy process. Or it should’ve been, from what Orion could understand on the internet. And she made sure to understand a lot. Everything, in fact. Every contract, every document, every part of her lawyer’s job. He had reassured her that he would take care of them. He was from a reputable firm. He wore two-thousand-dollar shoes—she had googled that—and had a general air about him that said he was smart and rich.

She did not trust a man, no matter how smart, how silver-forked his tongue was, or how reputable his firm was. He was not going to take care of her. She would not trust him blindly. She refused to blindly trust anyone. She physically couldn’t. And if she could, it wouldn’t be the lawyer who spent two thousand dollars on shoes.

He was a good lawyer, as far as lawyers went.

They had bank accounts—already bulging with more money than Orion could comprehend, thanks to GoFundMe—Social Security, credit cards. They had their own apartments. At least Jaclyn and Orion did, and in the same complex. She knew both of them didn’t want to rely on each other. They wanted to be strong, independent. And if they were honest with themselves, they didn’t want to be sleeping that close to each other ever again. Too close to living reminders of what was dead inside them.

There was no other choice but to live in close proximity to each other, even if Orion had convinced herself she was drifting away from Jaclyn. They needed to be close. For now, at least. As their wounds turned to scar tissue. Until they solidified their backbones.

April was not integral to her healing—if that’s what that was. She was a hindrance, at best. A catastrophe at worst. She didn’t need childhood friends tethering her to the girl she once was. The human she once was.

For better or worse, she was no longer human. Monsters were responsible for that. So she needed to become one herself.

“Thank you,” Orion said firmly. There was more in those two words, April saw that, Orion saw it with the way her eyes moved. She wasn’t stupid. Crude, maybe. Kind, definitely. Damaged—differently than her—to be certain. But not stupid.

She knew Orion was telling her to leave.

“I could stay,” April said. “We could order in, watch a movie? I have wine.” She pulled out a bottle from her overly large purse. It was black with studs and fringe. Orion liked it, or at least she thought she liked it. She didn’t know what to like because she wasn’t quite sure who she was.

She knew she didn’t want pink dresses or anything resembling girly. Heels didn’t make sense, but she liked the ability to make herself taller, more imposing. Makeup . . . she liked the idea of that. Covering her face up. Turning herself into a stranger. She’d watched many videos on it. She’d perfected all kinds of looks thanks to online shopping and a place called Sephora.

She most liked dark around her eyes, a sharp wing, creating shadows. No flaws on her face. Red on her lips, like blood.

Her hair was still long and wild because she didn’t like the idea of a stranger’s hands on her scalp. She had tried it, but lasted mere minutes in the chair, the hairdresser touching her from behind. After some more videos, she might be able to do it herself. But she wasn’t about to rush it. She was already mangled and ugly on the inside, she had no desire to be so on the outside too. Orion had read about many survivors of abuse who cut their hair off. Changed themselves completely so they were no longer desirable to men.

Orion understood that, the need to shrink away into the background in any way possible. But she also knew better. It wasn’t appearance, hair, or makeup that made monsters desire women. It was vulnerability. Opportunity. It was other things Orion couldn’t even describe. If they decided they deserved you, owned you, it didn’t matter how long your hair was.

So, she kept it, the hair. Because it was hers, not theirs.

Clothing, though. That was tricky.