Berries and Greed

Violet’s eyes glistened with tears as she hugged me tight. “I just hope I did right by you. If this is what you want, I support you, but please, please keep in touch with me so I know you’re safe. And if you hate it with him but don’t want to come back here, we’ll find a way. I can—I have a small pension saved. It should be enough to tide us over—”

“No.” I squeezed her before letting go. “I want to do this, Violet. I want to be brave. I can’t keep falling back into my safety net when things get difficult.”

My eyes were watering just like hers, so I swiped at them roughly. “Greid said he’d help me find a job. And if I don’t want to stay with him, I can save up to find my own place. And then if you wanted to leave, you could retire and live with me.”

She smiled, cheeks flushed and forehead splotchy from her tears, just like mine got. “It sounds crazy, but I’ll probably just stay here even when I retire. I do like it here. It’s peaceful. And easy. And it keeps me out of trouble.”

I nodded in understanding. Violet and her past boyfriend had been fairly heavy drug users, which was how she’d ended up in prison for theft—she’d been caught stealing stuff to fence for drug money. I knew she’d found peace here, so I didn’t judge her for wanting to stay. It was pretty peaceful, once you learned how to tune out all the fervent gushing about sexy demiurgus.

“I can’t believe I’m actually leaving.” I let out a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh and pressed a hand to my chest over my racing heart. “Tonight’s my last night here.”

She gave me a watery smile. “I’m happy for you, Beryl. But I’m going to miss you.”

I sniffed. “I’ll miss you too, Auntie. But I’ll come and visit. I’ll just make up some stuff about how amazing Greid’s magical dick is when the rest of them inevitably ask.”

She chuckled, then eyed me. “He got your medical record, right? He knows that even if he is interested that way, that kind of sex is off the table?”

My stomach squirmed with discomfort. “Yeah, he got it. He didn’t open it before he left, though.”

I’d been so desperate for him to see it before, thinking it would save me, but now the thought of him reading my private information felt horribly invasive. Which it absolutely was.

Something told me though, that Greid may not have opened that brown envelope. Or if he had, not realising what it was, he would have thrown it down in disgust. He seemed like an intensely private person, so hopefully that extended to respecting my privacy too.

I supposed I’d find out tomorrow. I’d find out a lot of things tomorrow. Like what a demiurgus home looked like. What it was like to sleep in the middle of a bustling city with constant noise, not up at the top of a hill with nothing but utter silence at night.

What it was like to eat whatever I wanted without having to guiltily hide snacks in my room. What alcohol tasted like. What it was like to get high.

What it was like to step out onto a busy street knowing I could go literally anywhere and do literally anything.

I wouldn’t have to exercise every single day if I didn’t want to—although I often ducked out of it here anyway. I would be able to eat whatever I wanted, not carefully portioned healthy meals with the optimum ratio of protein to carbs to fat. I could take up painting or cycling or cookery. I could do anything.

After saying goodnight to Violet and promising we would have a proper goodbye before I left tomorrow, I started packing up all my stuff in the embarrassing luggage. It didn’t take that long—after throwing my clothes into one, I neatly packed my skincare and bath products into the other, as well as the meagre collection of items hidden in my nightstand. An old gossip magazine, a notepad for doodling in, a crossword book for when I was really bored.

Seeing the entire contents of my life, the only things I owned, fitting so easily into two suitcases was kind of depressing, to be honest. But instead of moping about how I’d reached thirty-five having achieved so little, I thought about all the things I could buy myself once I had a proper job. Cute furniture and clothes that weren’t just flowy trousers and loose shirts. I’d allowed myself just a hint of rebellion by wearing things that weren’t plain beige, but I hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to myself here.

Once I was completely packed, I turned off the lights and climbed into my big bed for the last time—the bed I’d slept in for more than two-thirds of my life. It had seemed so enormous when I was a kid. It had been terrifying when I first got here—being given my own giant room when I was used to sleeping on a pull-out in the dirty, messy living room of my dad’s tiny apartment, his TV constantly on in the next room and a string of women coming and going.