Heartland Junk (Part II): Sanctuary by Eli Nixon Read Free Book Online

beginning to settle into my system, making it easier to function. I realized I was ravenous. I also realized, again to my relief, that I was wearing all my clothes from the night before. Then nothing had really happened. As I walked to the kitchen, the night began to come back in fragmented pieces. Abby had been telling me about her children, and I'd passed out on her. Just a normal end to a night of partying. It had happened to me a million times.
                  I was dumping a can of pears into a bowl in the kitchen when I froze, the empty tin can still dripping juice into the bowl.
                  Abby had been telling me about her children.
                  I raced back into the living room and pulled the blanket away. Abby opened her eyes slowly, yawned, and fixed her gaze on me.
                  "You were talking last night," I said. It wasn't a question, just a statement. Abby stretched and watched me in silence. "Tell me you were," I insisted. "I know you were, just say it."
                  Silence.
                  "Why won't you talk? What happened to you?"
                  Blood. Chains. Laughter.
                  "What is this? Your daughters' names are Alice and Sissy—short for Cecilia. They're seven and nine. Alice has asthma. You told me that. Why won't you talk now?"
                  Still under the blanket, Abby reached up and touched my arm. It was a strange gesture, not compassionate in the least. It almost felt like she was pleading for me to drop the issue. She shook her head gently.
                  "No, tell me. Why won't you talk to anyone?"
                  Abby gave me one last, imploring look, then opened her mouth. I backed away. A raw, fleshy, blood-blackened stump sat on her lower pallet, half hiding behind her pearl-white teeth.
                  Her tongue had been cut out.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
                  I DIDN'T mean to hurt Abby's feelings by pulling away. It just happened, pure reflex. But I couldn't take it back, either. Her eyes grew sad and she turned away to face the back of the couch.
                  "I'm sorry," I said. "I...I didn't know. I'm sorry." She ignored me. Jesus, no wonder she was in such a bad state. Last night, I might have become the only friend she had left. Besides Theo, of course, but motherly instinct didn't fill the same holes as friendship. And for some reason, I found myself wanting to be her friend, which made it all the more maddening that I'd fucked it up. So maybe I'd dreamed all the stuff about her kids. So what? I'd spilled my own guts to her, and dammit, she'd listened. That part wasn't a dream, I was sure. I couldn't remember the last person I'd talked to about my parents, and this woman whom I barely knew had listened. Had understood. She could empathize on a deeper level, as if we'd communicated through pure emotion rather than words. I don't know how I knew that, but I believed it in my bones.
                  I turned to the quiet sounds of Theo walking into the living room. He yawned and stretched little arms over his head, then froze when he saw the two of us, me crouching on my haunches beside the couch, Abby turned away from me.
                  "Told you she could talk," he said, voice slightly accusing, and wandered past me into the kitchen.
                  I didn't tell anyone about what had happened with me and Abby. Why would I? A drunken dream, that's all it had been. While Jennie and Rivet laughed and fucked and argued all day long, I absconded to my third-floor sanctuary once again, only this time with a plan in mind. After hauling all the supplies from the grocery store up both flights of stairs, I arranged them on the floor in front of me. Thirty pounds of sugar, three hundred grams of baker's yeast, and enough unmalted grains to sate the