Sarain dressed then let Winston back into the room. The clothes were a size too big, but they worked a lot better than the overly feminine stuff the Velvet Rose had to offer. She felt like she could breathe better now, no longer so self-conscious.
“I’m ready if you are, to do some hunting,” Sarain spoke with an energized tone.
“Maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow, so that you can set up the explosives during the day, and then we’d have a whole night of time to fight the survivors. I just think that we shouldn’t take the risk of having anyone see us and find out that we’re still in town before then,” Winston suggested hoping to calm an eager Sarain.
She thought it over for a second, then sat down next to him with a huff, and said, “You’re probably right. That does make more sense. It’s just hard to sit around doing nothing, especially at night.”
“I know what you mean,” Winston stated.
“Well then what should we do?” Sarain asked, and then quickly added, “That isn’t what you normally do here.”
He smiled and joked, “Well that would certainly pass the time, but if that isn’t an option than maybe we should just talk. If I’m going to be fighting by your side, I might as well know more about you.”
“There isn’t much to know,” she abruptly replied.
Winston gave her a discouraged look and said, “I seriously doubt that. Why do you have to be so guarded?”
“I just don’t want to talk about myself,” Sarain answered while getting up. She paced the room a bit, and then sat down on the floor against the wall across from Winston, on the other side of the room.
It was obvious to him that she was trying to distance herself, and he seemed bothered by it, but he didn’t press on. He just moved the conversation along by asking, “Is there anything about me that you’d like to know?”
Sarain contemplated that question, and answered, “How did you become a vil sang? I mean, why?”
“Well, I was twenty-eight, and the idea of growing old was looming in my head. Friends of mine we getting married and starting families, and all I could think was that I didn’t want the party to end. I didn’t know about demons or vil sangs, or anything like that. I just met this attractive woman one day, who told me that she could make it so that life didn’t have to end. She said she could give me something. I thought she was talking drugs but…”
“She gave you her blood, right?” Sarain said finishing his sentence for him, it was the obvious answer.
“Yes,” he said while nodding, and continued, “After that I felt sick for a while; the demon blood was taking over, and it wasn’t until then that she explained what was happening. But I didn’t fully understand. I knew that I was getting stronger, but I didn’t realize that I would have new weaknesses. She told me to avoid sunlight, but I didn’t know about holy relics. I wound up burning myself on an old crucifix that I used to like to wear; I couldn’t even pick it up anymore. I got mad at her for not telling me before hand what was going to happen, and I guess I complained too much, because one day I woke up and she was gone,” Winston paused, reflecting over his past, and finished by saying, “I never heard from her again after that.”
It was a harsh thing to do, Sarain thought, but also in the back of her mind she thought of how immature Winston must have been to do something like that. She kept that opinion to herself.
Winston gazed at her, wondering what she was thinking, and decided to ask, “Are you ready to tell me something about yourself yet?”
Sarain glanced over at him with a frown on her face, but didn’t answer. So instead Winston simply said to her, “Something stole your innocence, didn’t it?”
She looked up at him from her position on the floor, and thought about not answering, but she heard the words escaping her lips anyway, “No… I don’t think I was ever innocent.”
He lowered his eyes and commented, “It must have been pretty bad.”
“…Yes,” Sarain plainly muttered. She left it at that, and gave Winston a look not press on further.
They were quiet. Sarain hoped not to be questioned any further; something inside of her just wouldn’t let her share her past with anyone. Dreams and visions of her past were one thing, but there was something different and almost unbearable about putting the story in her own words. Like once it escaped her lips then she would truly have to live with it; keeping quiet made it feel less real, like a bad nightmare.
Winston watched as Sarain looked lost in thought. He had answered her questions, but she still avoided his. No matter what he did this girl seemed untouchable, even when she openly hated him he still couldn’t get under her skin; befriending her hadn’t made much difference. Nothing was able to penetrate through the brick wall she had built around herself. He wondered if she had been any different with Kit; had she loved the child? Or was he now just another brick on her wall? Winston didn’t know if he admired her for her strength or pitied her for her isolation from life. But he did know that she was the perfect example to show that great strength only truly came with great loss. She was carrying a wound that wouldn’t heal. Winston wished that there was something he could do to help her, and wondered if his presence had any effect on her.
Sarain glanced over at Winston, sensing his stare. Why does he keep watching me, she thought to herself. Time was inching by feeling never-ending. Should she just try to sleep, get her rest? His eyes are still on me. She looked over at Winston; he was blatantly staring at her with his eyes so blue. Why does he keep doing that? Why has he done any of the things that he’s done towards me? Helping her, rescuing her, visiting her at her house, even kissing her at the club, at the time it had seemed like he was mocking her, but now she wondered if it had been something else completely. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear the answer, but she had to know, so she found herself asking him, “Why have you never tried to kill me?”
He looked a little surprised by the sudden question, but answered, “I don’t like to kill.”
“But wasn’t it your job to protect the club?” Sarain asked.
“Yes, but…” Winston started to say, but didn’t get to finish. Sarain interrupted him by quickly pressing on with, “Well, then why didn’t you just kill me? I know you had the chance.”
“I…” he began to say while searching his thoughts, and finished with, “I don’t know why.”
Sarain gave him a confused look, thinking, what kind of answer was that? She tightened her hand into a fist at her side, beginning to get annoyed with Winston’s averting; at least she was straight forward about not wanting to answer questions, besides how could she trust him if she didn’t know his motives. She would get truth out of him, one way or another.
But before Sarain could continue to drill Winston, something else snatched her attention; a woman’s scream coming from upstairs. She quickly exchanged glances with Winston, who then pulled out the weapons he had purchased earlier, two katana swords.
He handed her one while saying, “I figured this would be a step up from that machete you used to carry.”
Sarain took the blade, and then a deep breath; it felt good to have a weapon in her hand again, but she still worried as to what they might find upstairs.