Fallen

You’re stronger than you think you are.

She’d said those words to Kandace once, a very long time ago, and for some reason, they rose inside her mind in that moment. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t recalled that day for years . . . Kandace’s tears, her hurt, the way she felt forgotten, and Scarlett’s fervent desire to comfort her friend with words she knew to be true. Kandi was strong, she just hadn’t been able to see it the way Scarlett did.

Standing there looking in the mirror, Scarlett felt an emotion not unlike grief twisting through her. Scarlett felt forgotten too. Not by anyone else, but by herself. She’d put herself last for a long, long time, and perhaps that was just the way it had to be, but it didn’t mean the realization felt good. It didn’t mean things had turned out the way she’d pictured when she’d been a little girl full of dreams of love. A family. Someone to lean on at the end of a long, hard day.

And it didn’t mean that putting herself last was what she wanted to model for Haddie. She wanted Haddie to know that she was worthy of claiming joy, of reaching for it. She wanted Haddie to bless the world with all the gifts that were unique to her—no matter what that might entail—instead of hiding in the shadow of service to others. That didn’t mean that she’d forsake those she loved. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t care for those who depended on her, and even those who did not. It simply meant that she mattered too. She was worthy of happiness. Every woman was.

Seize the day, Scarlett.

Go. Go now.

She straightened her shoulders. Okay, then. “Fallen woman, my ass,” she said to her reflection. There were no fallen women. Just women who had made mistakes and deserved grace, not judgment. And perhaps that meant starting with the person she was staring at in the mirror.

Scarlett grabbed her purse and headed for the door.CHAPTER THIRTY-ONEThirteen Years AgoKandace slammed the erasers together, a cloud of chalk dust bursting in the air before her and causing her to cough and sputter. She leaned away, rubbing any dust off her face with her forearm and setting the erasers back on the board.

“Cheap bastards,” she muttered. She was well aware of Lilith House’s rates—her mother had thrown the information in her face—and so she knew very well they could afford a cleaning staff, but chose instead to use their students for slave labor.

Of course, she knew very well that wasn’t the reason housekeepers weren’t employed at Lilith House. Oh no, it was to ensure as few as possible were privy to what was really happening there.

Then again, maybe she shouldn’t complain. The two hours she spent cleaning classrooms every afternoon was the only alone time she got, and Kandace needed that time to think. To plan. She needed that time to attempt to come to terms with the situation she found herself in.

Feelings of dark despair began descending and with effort, she pushed them away, picking up the trash can and emptying it into the larger bag she’d brought with her. She was working hard to keep the panic that lived inside her at bay, but it grew harder with each day.

Because with each day, her pregnancy grew as well. If she remained there for the entirety of her sentence, there would be no way to hide it. No way. Thank goodness their uniform was loose and shapeless, but she couldn’t hide underneath that indefinitely. She was already at least five months along, though her stomach was still only slightly rounded, due in part to her willowy stature, but also because she hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last several months.

Kandace turned as the door opened and Ms. West walked through. “Oh sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here,” she said. “I just need to grab my lesson plan.”

Kandace’s heart jolted. Ms. West. Kandace didn’t have her for any classes, but in passing, she’d heard the other girls speak well of her. She was an attractive older woman with a black bun and large blue eyes that seemed to continuously dart around. Sort of a nervous type, but who wasn’t—other than Ms. Wykes and Jasper—around there? And Kandace knew she was their tutor. The three abandoned basement-dwellers. Kandace wondered how she looked at herself in the mirror and still accepted that those children were prisoners there? How did she sleep at night, knowing those kids had been essentially locked away all of their lives? No socialization . . . no parental love. Only shame. In a way she could relate—maybe most of the girls at Lilith House could as well—but certainly not to this extent. And yet Dreamboat was kind. Caring. That was a small miracle in itself.