“He never would’ve loved her,” he explained, “or treated her with any kind of respect. He used her because he knew she would’ve done anything because of the situation she was in.”
“So then sex back there is degrading?” I asked.
He shifted uncomfortably again. “No. Just what he did to her.”
I stared off at the wall, picturing Petra again, remembering how quickly she changed from a kind, motherly young woman, to a dangerous one ready to jab a pencil in my throat.
“I feel bad for her,” I said. “Do you think someone like Petra, who has fallen so far, can ever turn their life around? Can anyone turn back anymore?”
ATTICUS
I swallowed, recalling how far I had fallen.
“I hope so,” I answered, thinking of Evelyn.
Sometimes I wondered if because I’d left, because I was no longer there for Evelyn the way she was for me, if she lost herself. And I thought of Peter. Did he become a cruel and heartless piece of shit like the rest of the men in Lexington City?
“I hope so…” I repeated.
Thais laid her head back down on my chest; her long hair warmed me like a blanket in an already stifling day, but I didn’t care.
THAIS
I thought more about Petra, and about all the girls who were taken to the city with me; I remembered each of their nameless faces. I hope they’re still alive, I thought. I hoped with all my heart they could find someone special like I had, who could get them out of that terrible place. Someone who would love them and protect them and—Something occurred then, and I felt ashamed that I’d never thought of it before: why women needed someone to love and protect them at all. Why did I naturally think that way? Because women have been oppressed and demoralized and viewed the subordinates of men since humans crawled their way out of the primordial sludge.
Something needed to change—no, everything needed to change. I didn’t want to live in a world like that. Why did men still rule the world, anyway? What gave them the right to treat women like meat and slaves and baby factories? It angered me the more I thought about it—it infuriated me.
I turned to Atticus.
“I would like to learn how to defend myself,” I said.
He glanced over.
“My father taught my sister and me some things,” I went on. “I know some defensive moves—not that they’ve done me any good so far, being captured and all—but I would like to know how to use a weapon. I can shoot and I know how to load a gun and even to clean one, but it might be better to learn to use a knife, seeing as how ammunition is so rare.”
“Your father never taught you to use a knife?” Atticus asked.
I shook my head.
“Not really.”
ATTICUS
I thought on it a moment, having no reservations about teaching her to properly defend herself. I did know how to fight with a knife. And a gun. And my fists. And most important, my head. But I knew other ways, too, and one in particular I thought might be best suited to Thais.
“I’ll teach you how to use a knife properly, but I’d also like to teach you how to use a staff.”
She appeared eager.
“A knife,” I went on, “is too close for comfort—the more distance you can put between you and your enemy, the better.”
“You know how to fight with a staff?” she asked, impressed.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “That was mine and my brother’s thing when we were kids. We used to play with toy light sabers and swords and things like that—thought we were badass—but staff-fighting was our thing. I was thirteen when I made my first one. It was a total failure: too heavy on one end and I carved the hell out of the other end trying to add my warrior name”—I laughed—“but I was still proud of that staff, thought it was awesome, and after that first one, I was obsessed with making staffs. Instead of playing video games when I got home from school, I’d go straight to my room and start carving—should’ve seen the look on my mother’s face when she saw the shavings all over the carpet”—my shoulders bounced with light laughter—“But in no time, Eben and I were fighting with them in the backyard, in the woods behind our house, in the field beside our school. We got really good at it. Snagged my first girlfriend because of those staffs.” I smiled impishly over at Thais, and she grinned back.
“The kids in the neighborhood,” I went on, “would come to watch us after school and on the weekends, and I’d fight my brother ‘to the death’. And then other kids got into it, and then we were holding tournaments—it was so great being a kid.” I stopped, sensed my face was shadowed by nostalgia.
“You were the champion, weren’t you?” Thais asked, beaming.
“No—that title went to my brother,” I admitted. “I beat him a few times, but Eben kicked everybody’s asses, including mine.” I smiled, remembering.
“You must have been very proud of your brother,” she said.
“Oh, I was,” I answered right away. “But Eben”—I sighed, and then skipped to the end of the conversation—“well, he got The Fever and died.”
Washing the memory from my mind, I forced a smile and raised myself on one side to lay like Thais, facing her.
After a moment, Thais, grinning, asked, “So, umm, what was your ‘warrior name’?”
A flush crept up on my face—I had hoped she’d forgotten about that minor, embarrassing detail.
“I was young,” I said in my defense.
“Yeah, so what was it?” she toyed with me.
Finally, with resignation, I said, “In the neighborhood, I was known as…”—I paused, glanced at the floor—“…’The Dangerous Pit Viper’.” My head got fiery hot.
Thais kept a semi-straight face for less than two full seconds, and then a great surge of air burst through her lips—she laughed and laughed and laughed.
“I’m so sorry!” she said, still laughing, still spitting air through the breaks in her fingers.
I reached out and grabbed her, kissed the side of her neck.
“Hopefully Jeffrey will at least find some sandpaper,” I said. “Esra just might have some. I want to make you a worthy staff, Thais Fenwick, future badass when I get done with her, but who will only fight in defense of herself and never in battle because, hell no.” I kissed her neck again, squeezed her tighter.
“Don’t start with that,” she warned playfully, laying her head against my chest. “I hope I never have to,” she said, “but if there ever comes a time when I need to defend you, don’t think for a second that I won’t do everything in my power, even at the expense of my own life.”
“It’ll never come to that,” I said, and then kissed the back of her head.
And please never say those words to me again: at the expense of your own life. Never say that to me again…
“Besides,” Thais taunted, “I imagine ‘The Dangerous Pit Viper’ might need help from time to time, if not for anything other than to keep the bullies off his back because of his cheesy nickname.”
I let her have that one.
52
THAIS