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❝ at one time in her childhood there was a scream of sorrow that never came out ❞
⎯ liv ullman, changing
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THE VOMIT TASTES of heartbreak and sin.
Reine tugs on the sleeve of her jacket, pulling up her wrist to cover her mouth, where the bitter tang of bile rests in the corners of her lips. Sleep tugs at her eyes, at her limbs, and she is reminded all too vividly of that same sickness when the Snap happened. A stone drops in her stomach, and a lump wells in her throat.
Like a wall building up inside her, brick by brick, achingly slow, the weight of it threatening to topple her over. Knowledge, something she's always craved, something she's always strived towards, now a wasteland inside her. How many days had she spent up reading English books under the covers, struggling with each sentence, tears staining the crinkled pages as she cursed herself. How many times had her mother, her sweet, flower-scented mother, whose hugs were like a wash of sunshine, whose neck was Reine's favourite place to nuzzle her head; how many times had she tried to comfort her?
Knowledge is not always power, hermosa, Mama would whisper into Reine's hair, caressing her back, gentle on the bruises that splayed across Reine's skin from her many scuffles and tumbles. Sometimes living with what you have is the only way to live. Now, as Reine thought back, she wondered what Marina had meant, why the words sounded more personal than her other musings. Her mother had come from Cuba when Reine was younger, taking whatever job she could find to keep them afloat. Her real father had abandoned her a month after mama found out she was pregnant. A tourist, Marina said when Reine asked, a white man who cared more about making his mark in the world than loving the people in it. Reine had often tried to imagine him. Tall, pale skin, and ugly. An evil, conniving man because she could not believe any handsome man would want to leave her beautiful mother.
