Savages

37: Blood Curse

Judit turned away from Merle, and she ran. Ran down the hill, skidding and stumbling over the rutted, frozen earth, ice shattering and water sucking cold at her feet.

She ran straight into the blackhouse and slammed the door, then slithered down against it until she was sitting on the cold, wet ground. She dropped her head into her hands, and she cried.

Merle knew.

It somehow made it real, and the defence of unreality she'd been clinging to so desperately had crumbled to dust all around her.

The bleak inescapable mess of her life was now all that Judit could see.

She was pregnant. And alone, and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't have Brock. She couldn't have an abortion. She'd be stuck with them, him and Lintie, on this starved muddy island forever, until the day she died. Stuck with a baby too, a child, a burden she never asked for and certainly didn't want.

No escape.

No future.

No life.

Nothing to lose.

Nothing...

to...

lose.

Could she?

Kill herself?

The only way out, the only way off this sun-forsaken island, but even as she considered it, Judit knew she was too coward to ever follow through.

No, she'd stay here, and let the world throw its dag at her, and all she would do was take that dag, twist it up into something even stinkier, even uglier, and throw it right back out.

Judit knew, knew with absolute, licit certainty that she was a bad person. But there was nothing she could do about it. It was too late. All way beyond her control.

"Judit?"

Merle.

There, outside the door, only inches away from Judit's head, her tiny knocks vibrating the wood against her skull.

Judit couldn't bear to answer. She was bound to go away eventually.

"Judit? Skit–" There was an intake of breath, a sharp expression of pain, and Judit thought she heard Merle whimper.

Her hands, Judit realised. The pussy, red-swollen soreness of Merle's palms appeared in her mind's eye. And her feet, too. She imagined Merle, hobbling down the hill after her, her blistering feet sliding across the icy puddles, knocking against every ridge and clod, and her tears switched from her own plight to that of her friend.

Standing up, Judit sniffed throatily, swiping at the snot covering her lip with her cold, damp sleeve. She opened the door.

Merle stood outside, clawed hands cradled at her breast, cheeks streaked with tears.

"Merle," Judit said stiffly. "Just come in, okay?"

They went through the byre into the house. The fire had gone out, but Judit had no inclination to light it, even though she was cold and wet and the room was dark. She switched the solar lantern on instead, its pale planetary rings imprinting on the black ceiling.