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IN three weeks, Odile learned to speak while we trained her in the way of the wolf.
In exchange for our generosity, she would study our palms and sign to us our future. Also, she taught sign language to us in three weeks. Three weeks after she woke up, she was proficient in the way of the wolf, and we knew almost fluent sign.
Despite knowing how to speak, Odile continued to prefer sign language. At her bachelorette party, she signed the lyrics of the song playing over the speakers. We asked her if she wanted to speak, and she signed, 'No.' Afterward, she slammed her feet against the floor to the rhythm of the drums. 'I love this song.'
Meanwhile, Parris took control of monitoring the development of Kylo. He brought a black and white television into the living room. He coated gel all over a long instrument, explaining, "When I touch your pelvic area, it will feel cold."
He was right. As he rubbed the instrument over my pelvic area, a cold sensation seeped through my skin. Damn. Ice. Cold.
At the same time, I clung to the warmth of Rylan's palm. His warm skin outweighed the cold gel. Meanwhile, his beautiful thoughts caressed me. You can do this, Triz. You can do this. Over and over again.
However, everything seemed too perfect even to believe an inch of what Rylan told me. What had I done to deserve someone as sweet as Rylan? What had I done to deserve to carry his legacy — our son, Kylo? How was I even worthy of love?
I was a monster.
I glanced at the screen, and in a grayscale image, saw my baby Kylo huddled into a ball in my uterus. Even better, a beautiful sound filled the room. Faint galloping. An unborn baby's heartbeat. As it echoed, the brightest smile swarmed against my cheeks. I remember thinking to myself that this boy would be as handsome as his father. Kind, too.
From the moment I heard my son's heart beating, I fell in love. In my head, he had thin near-black hair, a soft face, much like Rylan's, and kind sun-stricken eyes. So beautiful.
My heart fluttered. A warm sensation washed my cheeks. At the moment, I thought this was the best it could get. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Against the cold gel, Kylo's voice echoed: You can do this. The sound carried soft masculinity to my ears. All I could do was cry. It was so beautiful. So beautiful.
On the flip side, I could see pumpkin hair set against bronze skin. And behind Kylo, Zoelle stood. Her snarky accent ravaged my brain: You see. We're the same. If it weren't for you, I would be carrying Rylan's heir. And not to mention, he wouldn't be in Ocala, living in a cottage.
In the back of my mind, her demise played again and again as if the darkness had ahold of me.
It was too late. When I blinked, I saw the knife flying through the air, the blade igniting into roaring flames.
