The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel

Author:Amy Engel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2017-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

There was a war inside her head, and she wished it would stop. Every day a raging battle, an endless, exhausting tug-of-war. She knew it was wrong, what they were doing. She knew it, no matter what he said. Carried the evidence in her hollowed-out cheekbones and bitten-to-the-quick fingernails. But she loved him. Not an easy butterflies and sunshine kind of love. Not a fairy tale. A dark, twisting horror show of love. Love that spread through her like poison, coiled like inky tentacles that slowly squeezed out all the light.

Sometimes she went into town and had sex with whomever showed the slightest interest. And let’s face it, she was a beautiful girl. There was plenty of interest. Other nights it was alcohol, pills in a plastic baggie, white powder snorted from the back of someone’s dirty hand. She hoped that maybe if a stranger fucked her hard enough, if she emptied her guts until it felt like her stomach was going to rip out through her throat, she’d be able to rid herself of him. Of the never-ending need that lived inside of her like a sticky vine, refusing to surrender.

She wished she was more like Eleanor, who didn’t seem to feel anything at all, looked at the world with hard eyes, gaze always trained on some distant horizon. Eleanor was going to run, Camilla was sure of it, even though Eleanor didn’t talk to her anymore. Didn’t talk to any of them, really. Bided her time. Eleanor went into their father’s study and closed the door when he called for her, stole money from Sharon’s grocery cash, and waited for her moment.

Camilla tried to imagine a life away from Roanoke. A life without his face, without his hands on her body, without his voice saying her name. The thought made it hard for her to breathe. It felt like freedom. It felt like death.

Lately, every time he touched her, she pictured her organs turning black and rotten, even as she keened with pleasure. Whatever sickness they both had was working its way through her skin, deep into bone and tissue. Her love was knotted with so much darkness. She’d never be able to separate all the tangled strands. Would never be able to love someone without hating them, too.

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