Suture (The Bleeding Worlds) Read Online Free Page B

think?"
    The sandwiches were ham with lettuce, mayo, and on whole wheat bread. Probably the kind of sandwich his aunt Jaimie would've liked him to eat.
    "Sure, they look fine."
    The pout threatened to return to her lips. "Don't be silly. I appreciate your manners, but honestly, what kind of sandwich would you like?"
    Gwynn gave it some thought. "Ham is okay. But I like it mixed with bologna and summer sausage. Oh, and some marble cheese sliced thin on top."
    She laughed. Being with her felt odd. Not uncomfortable, but not right at the same time. She did have an enticing laugh, though.
    "And is whole wheat bread fine, or would you prefer something else?"
    "I always preferred white." A sheepish grin curled Gwynn's lips. "With the crusts cut off."
    She smiled and shook her head like a mother would—humouring her child even though she knew his demands were silly.
    "I'm sorry I was so far off the first time. I think I've got it right now, though."
    Gwynn looked back to the plate. The sandwiches were now thick with three types of meat, marble cheese, and stacked between fluffy white squares of bread, without crusts. He grabbed one with a chuckle and began to devour it. When had he last eaten? He felt famished. The meats were filled with flavour, the bread still soft and warm.
    "Wow. I think this is the best sandwich I've ever had," he said without even thinking.
    Her face beamed. "I'm so glad. I'll be sure to remember the exact details next time."
    "Next time?"
    "Of course." She said it with such enthusiasm she bounced with the word. "I'm tired of lurking in the shadows. After what happened at the farm, and the way everyone's been acting around you…"
    The farm. His mind cleared just a bit, to recall the farm. What was that, three days ago now? Yes, and he'd been encased in a cocoon of silence since. The members of Ansuz seemed uncomfortable around him and the other kids in Suture avoided him like he was something to be feared.
    "Thanks, Angie. I appreciate it."
    She didn't respond. Instead, she stared, slack jawed, toward the horizon.
    Dark clouds had begun to gather, swirling like an angry ocean in the sky.
    "That's not right," Angie said. She scrunched her eyes closed and hunched slightly forward.
    The clouds responded by growing darker. Gwynn couldn't even distinguish one cloud from another—it was just a mass of black.
    A breeze ran a frigid finger along Gwynn's jaw. It whispered in his ear, and though he couldn't make out the words, he knew they filled him with dread.
    Angie's eyes were open now—wide and worried.
    "We should go," she said.
    Go? How did he do that when he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten here?
    "I'm so stupid," Angie said. "Letting myself get too comfortable. I let my guard down." She was on her feet, shouting at the approaching storm. "You're not welcome here. You cannot, will not, interfere."
    A deep rumble sounded in the distance. Her body recoiled as if she'd been struck. Gwynn couldn't move. Something in the whispers of the breeze, the way it wrapped around his body and held him immobile, felt familiar.
    Angie scrambled toward him, gripping his shoulders.
    "You have to wake up, Gwynn," she shouted, trying to make her voice heard above the increasing howl of the wind. "I'm sorry. Please, Gwynn, for both of our sakes, wake up."
§
    Gwynn's eyes opened. He was wrapped in warm blankets, his body cradled by a soft mattress. He blinked the blurriness of dreams from his eyes. As his vision adjusted to the dark, the details of the room came into focus. Blank walls, a lone desk—home? No, he remembered, not home, Suture. He doubted he would ever consider it home.
    He rolled over to look at the bedside clock. The cold blue numbers displayed the ungodly time of three-thirty am. He lay there for another twenty minutes before deciding sleep would never return. Odd , he thought, considering his dream, I can't remember the last time I had a dream.
    He recalled a time, not long ago, when his nights were filled