The Prize of Dysprosium

Chapter XX: Actual Miracles

My flinch makes Anton startle with an interrupted snore and open his bleary eyes.

"Anton," I breathe as I realize it's his shampoo I can smell. I can't believe he's actually here.

"Hey," Anton says with a voice husky from sleep. Then everything comes back to me – Garmen, Father George. The dream is fading quickly, but I can't get the image of Grace smoking out of my head.

"I'm so sorry," I say and my voice cracks.

"Don't be," Anton says. "I was basically awake anyway."

"No, not that," I say. "About last night. I can't even imagine," I bite my tongue, but he deserves a full apology. "I can't even imagine what you must have thought. I'm so sorry."

"No. I only thought you were grieving," he says with more kindness than I deserve and brush my hair over my ear. The brush of his fingers sends a shiver down my arms. "And I thought Father George must have somehow deserved it?" he says with uncertainty.

"I never told you about him, did I?" I whisper, and Anton shakes his head. I have to remember, that to someone from the White House, Father George is Head of the Church and a kind man, always preaching about the almighty God and maybe even chastity. Anton has probably even been to masses led by him. I take a deep breath and begin talking. About how I caught Father George's eye in the White House, but I was banished before he could manage to do anything so instead he sought me out in the Cave with weeks between visits, although they have come to occur more and more often. Anton stays silent and listens. I don't tell him about everything the priest has done to me, I don't want to burden him with that, but I tell him enough for him to realize I've been hurt, that the man has been a big part of my nightmares, that he's the person in the world who scares me the most because I became accustomed to do as he told me to. And then last night happened and with Garmen gone it just clicked for me and I bit off his penis.

At this, Anton can't contain a giggle although he desperately tries to clasp a hand over his mouth.

"I'm so sorry," he wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut. "It's not funny."

"It kind of is," I say. "I bit a priest's penis off." And then I begin laughing too. Because it's actually hilarious.

"And you're still covered in penis blood," Anton guffaws and I reach up to feel the cracks of coagulated clots on my face and clothes. My fingers come away with crumbs of it.

And I can't stop laughing either, however wicked it is.

"Oh God," I say between laughs, which makes us both howl again. "I should really wash this off," I manage when I've regained the ability to breathe and think that I might as well change the sheets too considering they're probably as bloody as my robe. Which, if anybody is keeping count, is also completely ruined.

It takes us a while to rise, but Anton refuses to kiss me before I'm clean so I have no choice but to get up and in the shower. I'm not letting go of Anton though, because I have a ridiculous feeling that he'll disappear if I ever do. Besides, he also needs to get cleaned up so I drag him with me.

On our way to the bathroom, a lot of the others look at us quizzically. They can obviously see the blood and knows I now have some sort of relationship with the Potentate son, which makes for a lot of different reactions. Ki Aimi still looks as if she'd like to murder me but she can't really decide what to do about Anton, and Quills seems almost palpable as I pass her in the hallway. Hannah looks at me as if she's a proud mother which is weird as heck but ignores Anton completely, and Ricardo actually hugs me and tells me he'll have my back if I decide to bite off any other rapists' junk as long as I don't get near his ever again. Then he sends Anton a giant grin and winks which makes Anton turn bright red. I laugh and promise him I have no intention of ever doing anything like that ever again. Carrie-Ann, Frei, Ginnifer and Sammie bumps into us in the bathroom and Anton has to answer a whole lot of questions about what it feels like to be the Potentate's son, and whether his mother is okay. He answers as many as he can truthfully, and the girls can't help giggling. I can hear their conversation as I wash off the blood in lukewarm water of the shower, trying to breathe as deeply as I can and willing myself not to have another panic attack or whatever it is I get which seems to make it hard for me inhale air. When I hear the rustle of the girls leaving I step out of the shower. As I do, Anton – who's washed the blood from his arms off into the sink – gasps and looks away, and as I glance in the mirror I see why. The blood and robe was covering most of my injuries and the new blooming bruise in my face, but now I realize why I'm aching so badly. My body has gradually eroded into something from a battle field. Blue and yellow marks which hadn't healed properly have come back, my knees are scraped raw again and the whole of my left shoulder looks like something from a painting with many dark colours spreading down my arm. Then there are all my other minor infirmities like the scratches on my neck after the noose and the bruise on my knuckle and my cracked lips. I also realize that I can see a lot of dark roots in my hair beneath the blue. I'm definitely in for both a hair-cut and a coloring.