Wild Spirit: The Last Hickory (3) by Victoria Wren

Author:Victoria Wren [Wren, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Across in Lincoln, Ben awoke to the guttural noise of his wife whimpering in the dark of the living room. He lifted his torso off the camp bed, the muscles of his upper back tight from sleeping on springs poking through the mattress. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Alice?”

His bare feet hit the floor, groaning as he stretched and padded to the spare room. Inside it was dark, tangy, and through the myriad of shadows, he could make out her shape, pacing the floor. “Alice, stop!”

He caught her shoulders, and she recoiled, her nails digging into his arms, shoving him away. Ben staggered back against the wall, a sharp reminder of the strength she still possessed. Even in this frail, tattered state, she could knock him sideways. “I’m going to open the curtains, okay?” he called, crossing to the window. “I can’t even see you.”

Alice crept to the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest and folding her arms around them, head bowed. She wailed as pale light flooded the room. She’d obliterated this bedroom. What once was a pretty, pastel decorated guest bedroom, was now a wasteland, wallpaper ripped by fingernails, blood stains on the rug and the bed clothes pulled off and ripped to shreds in fits of temper. Ben puffed out air, still bleary-eyed, exhausted, having spent most of the night trying to convince her to eat. He’d taken over from Evan, Alice duty, they called it. When one finished, the other took over, telling lies to cover their tracks. Though some progress had been made, she was nowhere near the women he’d lost all those years ago.

This Alice had eyes like the devil, pale, glassy, and able to stare into a void for hours on end. And this Alice wasn’t settled in her skin. She scratched at her bare arms and legs, leaving ugly welts. The strawberry-blonde mane of hair he’d loved was chopped into a blunt bob around her ears.

Ben wondered how something that should have been so wonderful had gotten so royally screwed up. He squatted and crawled carefully toward her. “Alice, talk to me. Did you have a dream?”

She trembled, her voice thick with tears. Her hair fell over her face when she finally lifted her chin. Then to his surprise, she held out her arms. Ben choked, taking a moment to breathe before he reached for her, and like a child, she crawled into his lap, cradling her head under his chin. This was progress. He lifted her, carried her out of the room into the living room. He landed on his bottom on the couch, with her crowded on his lap.

Minutes drifted by, and neither spoke. He wrapped his arms around her, horrified at her bones protruding from her back. “You need to start eating, baby.” He kissed her forehead. “A stiff breeze would blow you away.”

“Food tastes like…ash,” she admitted. “Everything here is so bright. And hard.”

“You can’t go back, Alice. I know you’d run away if I gave you half a chance.

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