Free Krisis (After the Cure Book 3) by Deirdre Gould Page B

his arm and looked at her through the smears. “Every week. I’ve come here every week since I heard about you six years ago, Ruth. I’ve begged and begged. You’ve turned me away every week. You tell me you won’t do it for a child, but does she suffer any less than an adult? You think she doesn’t feel as bad as the others? Or worse? She’s confused. Scared maybe. All this time—”
    “I won’t do children because I can’t, Nick. I’ve tried. I know, as well as you, how bad it is for them. I just can’t.”
    Nick nodded against his arm. “I know,” he sighed, “I’m not angry. I know why. But she isn’t a child any more. And I can’t watch her— consume herself any more. She screams, God, the screams! I haven’t slept in eight years . I’ve given her the best care I could. The very best. Emma’s wrists have permanent scars from the straps. I remove the straps every day. I clean them. I clean her. I replace the padding. Sometimes I can’t bear to tighten them again when I put them back on, and she gets loose. She bites me, or claws me,” Nick gestured to the loose band-aid on his cheek, “someday, she’ll get loose and kill someone. I hope it’s me and not someone else’s baby. Nothing helps. She’s still in pain. I take care of her mess, every hour or two. I put her in clean clothes every day. Wash the old ones in water I drag from the hydrant down the block. Wash her diapers, too. Brush her teeth and her hair, even though she tries to chew my hand off. Who else is going to do that for her? Juliana may be a good woman, but people say she’s got more than a hundred of ’em penned up in there. Just her and that Father Preston, who yells at me every week when I walk through these doors. You think he’s going to change my girl’s diapers? He’s not got a speck of mercy in him. And Juliana— it’s a miracle she can get enough out of that little garden to feed them every day. She doesn’t have time to bandage Emma’s arms or untangle her hair. No one’s going to give her what I have,” a tear slithered down through the stubble on his cheek. “But it doesn’t matter. It never gets better. She’s in pain now, and she’d be in more pain at the hospital. I can’t think of her like that.” He stood up straight and cleared his throat. He jammed one hand in his pocket and pointed at Ruth with the other. “So you’re going to give us her birthday present.”
    Ruth hesitated and the flush came back to Nick’s skin. “What?” he cried, “Is this not enough? It’s all I could scrape together. I’d hoped to get enough for you to do both of us—”
    “I don’t do healthy people either.”
    “I know. I can handle myself. But I need to know Emma’s seen to first. I’ll get more somehow. What do you want? Matches? Baby formula? Batteries? I’ll find them, I swear. Just— just don’t make us wait anymore.”
    Ruth shook her head. “I don’t need more. I just needed to be sure that you were ready. I wasn’t, when it came to it.” She picked up the bullet.
    Nick’s eyes widened. “But I thought that you did this because of your own.”
    “I do. Nobody should have to kill their own child.”
    “Who did it for you?”
    Ruth stacked the toilet paper and cooking oil in the empty supply cabinet and locked the door. She pocketed the bullet. “My husband,” she said, “but he couldn’t live with it either.”
    “I’m sorry,” said Nick.
    Ruth ignored him and walked out of the reception room, locking the door behind her. He looked even worse without the glass between them.
    “Now?” he asked.
    She put a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to take some time, say goodbye or— or get her dressed in something special, I can come tomorrow.”
    Nick shook his head. “No, now. No more waiting. Not another second of pain.”
    Ruth walk.ed toward the glass door. “Should I— should I wait here?” he called after her.
    She turned around. “If you are comfortable here, it’s as