Vain (The Seven Deadly #1)
Page 17“I thought they’d be asleep by now. It’s close to six in the morning,” I said, turning to Dingane.
“They couldn’t sleep I’ve been told.”
“Understandable,” I said, looking back up at their windows.
After a few minutes of beautiful song backed by a symphony of singing insects and night animals, I turned back to Dingane. “Why do they do it?”
“Because it brings them joy.”
“And what is there to be joyful about?” I asked honestly, thinking on the images of dead children curled into themselves at the village. Another burst of silent tears streamed down.
“Life, Sophie. They still live. They breathe, they love each other, they find joy in the world around them for no other reason than because they are children. They are resilient. They will always rise above. Always. It is a curious facet of the innocent young.
“If I hadn’t seen it before with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. Cynicism comes with the harshness of the world and only as you get older. I’d give anything to have their inherent happiness.”
Dingane turned toward me and I toward him, leaning on the post beside him. We stared at one another for a moment and a sense of understanding passed between us. I didn’t believe that he’d ever like me, but after the night we’d experienced, I did believe he would be more tolerant of me.
“You two should get some sleep,” Charles said, breaking the trance between Dingane and me.
“You and Karina should sleep. I can stay with them. They’ll sleep as well,” Dingane told him.
“I can help,” I added and Dingane whipped his head toward mine, nodding slightly.
“We’ll cancel classes tomorrow,” Charles said when Karina met his side. “Sophie and Dingane will watch them for a few hours. We can have Ruth and Solomon relieve them after breakfast.”
Karina nodded and both slumped toward their cabin. Dingane sat in the doorway and I followed his example, sitting against the pole opposite him, both our legs spread out before us. I crossed mine at the ankles.
“I’ll check them every few minutes,” he explained.
“I’m glad Karina had sedatives.”
“It’s the last of our supply. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to replenish.”
“You don’t have a regular supplier?” I asked.
Dingane smiled softly sending butterflies in my stomach fluttering, the basic attraction I held for him not being able to be denied despite our current situation. “We don’t have anything like that, though I wish we did.”
I just couldn’t imagine that this very desperate place couldn’t get aid from western civilization.
“Uganda is a forgotten place, isn’t it?”
“Uganda, South Sudan, Kenya, Africa, really.”
“Two reasons. People think this, our predicament, is an exaggeration or they’re in total denial. Pretending it doesn’t exist allows for a light conscience.”
I scoffed at that in disbelief but then thought on it. I’d never really heard of these places save for the occasional TV ad asking/imploring people for aid. I never thought twice about it. Ashamed, I turned my head.
“And the other?” I asked him directly after gathering my guilt.
“They assume someone will take care of it, their governments really, but all they need to do is take the problem into their own hands. Governments are unreliable, corrupt entities. It will only be solved by the hands of many. Thousands of small pebbles, giant splash and all that.”
It was quiet for a moment and the night air was filled with those singing insects again.
“Once, I took this social studies class,” I told him. “In it, we read this story about this woman attacked in an alleyway in New York City.” I shook my head. “I can’t remember the particulars. Anyway, the gist of it was that many people watched the attack from their windows and assumed someone else called the police and the woman died there, waiting for help.”
Dingane lifted his shoulders in acknowledgement, his beautiful, tanned hands lifted as if in explanation.
I remembered the visions of dead children again and turned my head to avoid the humiliation of Dingane seeing the tears fall. I twisted back when he nudged my foot with his.
“It’s not a weakness,” he stated simply, his arms folded tightly against his torso.
“What’s not?” I blubbered, wiping my face with dirty hands.
“Fear, sadness. They’re not weaknesses. They are overpowering, defining emotions. They make you human, Sophie.”
“They are signs of defect,” I told him, reverting back to curt Sophie.
“Says who?”
“Me.”
“Why?”
“Because I — because...”
“Let me guess. Because you are not proud of yourself? Because you despise who you are? Because, if you show these emotions, they acknowledge those thoughts?”
I was deadly silent for five minutes at least. “Yes,” I stated, breaking the absence of sound.
“Do something about it.”
“There’s nothing to do. I’m lost.”
“Bullshit. You don’t really believe that. You want to stick with what’s easy for you. You foresee the amount of work it would take to transform yourself and you’re too frightened to embrace the challenge. Now, that, Sophie Price, is a real weakness.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dingane and I were relieved by Ruth and Solomon around eight in the morning after breakfast, as promised. I was so exhausted, but the idea of sleeping on my sheets after being covered in blood and dirt gave me the chills. I wanted, no needed, to wash away the previous night.
“I have to shower,” I told Dingane.
His eyes bugged slightly. “Oh, all right. I was going to as well. Would you like to go first?”
“No,” I told him, “you go ahead. I’ll gather all my things.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll knock on your door when it’s free.
“Thank you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Dingane knocked and I answered.
He popped in his head and his hair was still wet and clung to his neck. I could smell his soap and I inhaled it.
“All yours,” he said, moving to leave before stopping short. “Uh, sleep well.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling slightly.
I approached the shower with hesitation knowing there would be bugs this time but was surprised again to see it was entirely clear. “That’s odd,” I said out loud.
“What’s odd?” someone asked me. Karina was passing by.
“Oh, there aren’t any insects here.”
Karina studied the shower. “That is curious.” She smiled before scurrying off toward the schoolhouse.
I showered quickly, cleansing the night away as best I could and dressed simply. My feet and eyes were so heavy by the end I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it to my small hut but somehow I did, tossing my things to the side and practically diving into my bed, burying my net as best I could into the mattress. I was asleep before my eyes could even hit the pillow.
I woke of my own accord which felt strange, but it was still light out and that surprised me knowing how tired I’d been. I shook the insects from my net and emerged, brushing my teeth and fixing my hair into two braids as I’d done that first day. It was to be my standard style, I’d decided. It was easy and stayed out of my way. Two things I would have paid money I never would’ve associated with the way I wanted to present myself. I wore my standard blue jeans, boots and button-up.
Outside, I could hear the giggling voices of the girls and hearty laughs of the boys, no doubt enjoying their free day of play. When I left my hut, my view was exactly as I’d expected except for one little beautiful hiccup. The girls sat under the baobab tree, dancing and playing, the boys were several hours into a soccer match it seemed.
My eyes spanned across the players, all matching in height except for one. Dingane played alongside the boys, laughing with them, dribbling the ball around them and teasing them for not being able to catch up, which made them laugh all the more. Two boys had fallen down they were laughing so hard. When he spotted me, his smile didn’t fade and that bolstered me. He passed the ball to the nearest boy and they continued to play.
Dingane jogged toward me, out of breath when he finally reached me.
“They’ve put up the food, but Kate saved you a plate.”
“Come on. I’ll show you where she stored it. I don’t think you’ve ever been in the kitchen before,” he said, walking backward.
“I haven’t,” I admitted when he turned back around. “How are the village children?” I asked.
He dropped to match my pace. “Much better. Many of their wounds were more superficial than we originally thought. The first girl we’d wrapped, Olivia, is the worst off but conscious now and asking questions. We have high hopes.”
“How are they handling it? The loss?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“As expected. They need time.”
“No, they need their parents.”
“That is the very definition of stolen, Sophie. Nobody ever asks permission.”
When we arrived in the kitchen, we heard the patter of bare feet on the tile floor but saw no one. I went through the swinging door into the eating hall and looked around but saw no one until I turned around and noticed Mandisa, the one who refused to eat, hiding beneath the serving line.
“Mandisa?” I called to her, but she was trembling, too afraid to come out so I went to her instead. “Mandisa, sweetheart,” I said, testing out the word. I’d never genuinely called anyone “sweetheart” before, not without condescension. “Come to me.”
I held out my arms and could feel Dingane steadily approaching me from behind. I lifted my hand to stay him and felt him stop.
Mandisa shook her head and back and forth and squeezed her eyes shut. I took the opportunity to join her underneath the line and Dingane crouched beside us, boxing us in. When Mandisa opened her eyes, they were full of tears, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I grabbed her. I lifted her into my lap and squeezed her to my chest. I rubbed small circles into her back and whispered in her ear. It negated every instinct I owned, but I did it anyway.
“It’s not working. What should I do?” I asked Dingane.
“Keep holding her,” he whispered.
“It’s not working,” I told him and tried to push her on him, but Dingane placed her back in my arms so I squeezed her again.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and held fast. “She needs affection.”
“I’m not doing it right,” I told him, beyond panicked then.
“Yes, you are,” he reassured me.
Dingane sat beside me against the aluminum partition and an instant calming sensation washed over me. I knew I could do it. I knew if Dingane was there to help me that I could help Mandisa. So we stayed silent for what seemed like hours and all I could wonder was if I had it in me to calm a toddler who’d just lost her mother, who refused to eat and was a complete stranger. I wondered if her life would always be teeming with the strife she so obviously struggled with. I wondered if she would continue to starve herself with grief, or if we’d be able to feed her through a tube. I wondered if she would ever be a normal child again. I wondered if she would even make it to adulthood, or if she would forever be lost to the cruel world she had already been subjected to at such a young age. I wondered about the practical and impractical and while I pondered her young life, she calmed down. She stopped crying and held on to me tightly.