Stars Of Our Lives

Maybe There Is A God

Davaros was gone.

The thought was sinking in as I made my way back to work.

She was really gone.

We were on kitchen rotations, me coming to stand beside Mary and Shannon as we scrubbed pots with scalding water. We were all still crying, silent tears dripping down our faces. But every once in a while, they would look at me different. Like a glare and stare combined. They didn't trust me anymore. 

They didn't know me anymore.

The PSF was still looking at me. She'd followed me into the kitchens, standing closer than PSFs usually stood as her eyes bored into me. I glanced over my shoulder at her, just to make sure it was me she was staring at. Of course, it was.

I turned back to my station, trying to ignore her. But the feeling of being watched, the prickling on the back of my neck, never left. Every once in a while I'd hold up the surface of whatever pan I was scrubbing to use as a mirror, just to see if she was still there. She stood there for three hours. Just watching me.

What was her problem?

She was approaching.

My body went stiff, bracing for the blows she was no doubt about to give me. Mary and Shannon froze too, but there was no sympathy in their eyes for me. Not anymore.

The woman stood right at my back, so close I could feel her shoulder brush mine. Her hand reached over, gripping the pot I was holding. Did she . . . want it?

With one movement of her arm and she'd ripped the pot right out of my hands, throwing it to the ground. The metal clanged against the concrete, making everyone turn to look.

. . . Okay?

Before anyone could even react, her hand shot against the sink handle, and suddenly scalding water was splashing against my face,  making me stumble back from the sink. She held out her foot as I tripped, catching the back of my heel and landing me hard on the cement.

What was she trying to do?

Kubritz rounded the corner, her eyes flaring as she approached. As if she'd just found the perfect reason to punish me. Tripping.

"Pick it up, Tarron." She stabbed a finger at the pot.

Slowly scooting forward, I pushed myself onto my knees and grabbed the handle, easing myself back up to my feet.

"What happened to invisible?" She asked, pouting her lips.

I turned back to the sink, ignoring her. I've never been good at being invisible.

Her breath was suddenly fanning over my neck. "I told you this wasn't over."

I shot a glance over my shoulder at the PSF. She was still staring at me. Calm. Neutral. My eyes narrowed at her. She was just like all the others. Seeing how much she could hurt us before we finally broke for the last time. Just for the fun of it.

Burn in hell, my mind hissed at her.

"Newbie!" Kubritz shouted. The woman finally took her eyes off me. "Grab her. I'm gonna show you what we do with the mutts around here."

Kubritz can burn with her.

The woman stepped forward, taking hold of my arms and pulling me away from the sink. I waited for the shoving. The bruising feeling of their fingers digging into me. But it . . . didn't happen. 

Her hands were soft around my arms, guiding instead of shoving. Supporting instead of digging. I couldn't remember that last time someone had been so gentle with me.