Super by Stroud Mari

Author:Stroud, Mari [Stroud, Mari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

It reminded Ophelia much too much of the motel where she and Naomi had essentially gotten their asses handed to them, though she pried at the dresser of this room experimentally and discovered that the management had thought ahead and bolted it down to the floor. There were two beds, though, and with two of their four staying awake to keep watch at all times that just about cleared the air of any awkwardness that could arise.

Just about. Naomi had gone into the bathroom to wash her face, though Ophelia rather thought that she still needed some time to compose herself after whatever had transpired during her secret phone conversation and also to brace herself for the fact that Bonnie and Marcus were both going to see her without her weaponry and costume. Marcus was outside and, Ophelia highly suspected, up on the roof, making absolutely certain that there were no weak points that they hadn't already considered. That left, for the moment, just Ophelia and Bonnie.

Bonnie sat down at a chipped and scarred table that had probably seen the wildest excesses of the disco era. She was twirling a cheap plastic ashtray back and forth between her hands. Since Bonnie had yet to request a cigarette even once, Ophelia gathered that it was more for something to do than anything else and took the seat on the opposite side of the table without speaking. Her whole body ached; Ophelia tallied up the number of hours since the last time that she had slept and decided that not even impending attack and death were going to be able to keep her from passing out just as soon as she had the chance.

"If I could remember more, I would," Bonnie blurted out suddenly. Ophelia, who had been dividing her attention between listening to the water running in the bathroom and Marcus walking about above them, startled just slightly. "I swear, it's not because I want anyone getting hurt on my account, I just can't."

"Bonnie," Ophelia said in her calmest voice, and waited for Bonnie to stop fiddling with the ashtray before she reached across the table and covered the other woman's hand with her own. "Don't you for one solitary second think that any of this is your fault, all right? Even if these bitches, sons of, whatever, were after you and you alone, not a single second of this would be your fault."

Bonnie waited a beat before she removed her hand from underneath Ophelia's and resumed playing with her ashtray. "I don't think that any of this is the fault of anyone other than the bastards who did it to me," she addressed the plastic. Ophelia watched her knuckles tighten and thought that maybe she was about to see one of them dislocate and then Bonnie having to pop it back into place so it could super-heal. "If I could do more to help stop those bastards, though, that's my fault."

Ophelia smiled before she could stop herself and then hid it behind her hand so that Bonnie would not see.

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