Eight

The sun was starting to set as they headed back to the house. Damien walked slightly ahead of her, kicking a rock on the road with his hands in his pockets. Wendy trailed behind him, trying not to stare.

'He's not as scary as I thought he was. He's nice, just has a weird way of showing it,' Wendy thought. She looked up at the sky. It was just starting to turn orange.

Damien and Winston were best friends, weren't they? That would mean Damien was probably in the same class as him, which would make him seventeen. Wisteria's age, on the other hand, was more of a mystery to her. She could be Wendy or Winston's age, or maybe older than them. But why did they live alone? Where were their parents?

Winston never really talked about him. Actually, now that she thought about it, Winston never really talked about much. Sure, he talked about school and his grades when asked, but Wendy could not recall him ever talking about his friends or even his interests. What hobbies did he even have? He always seemed so carefree and nonchalant, and things always seemed to be going well for him. He was the 'perfect son'—never argued, never talked back, never did anything that made their parents angry. He did not even object when their parents broke the news that they would be heading to the Garden early.

'Now that I think about it...did I even know anything about him?'

No, she didn't. This much was obvious. And now he was gone. She would never get the chance to really know him. The world blurred in front of her as her head started to spin.

"Hey! Wendy!" Damien shouted, catching her as she stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. "What's the matter with you?" He shook her shoulder, but stopped when he saw the tears falling from her eyes. "...Wendy?"

Wendy's knees hit the ground, unable to contain her sobs any longer. She clutched onto his arm with startling strength from her trembling hands, and he flinched in surprise.

"Winston," she wept, "Winston went to the Garden…"

Damien's expression hardened.

"He's gone. He's really gone."

Damien took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Without a word, he pulled her closer to him, patting and rubbing her back. She continued to cry until all that would come out of her throat was an ugly, scratchy whimper.

Silently, he helped her up, and they started to walk back home again. She was too numb to feel anything, but if she could, she would be thankful to him and embarrassed for making a scene.

When they reached the gate in front of the house, Wendy's numbness was shattered by surprise. Standing on the stone path was a long lineup of people, young and old, donning both fancy clothes and rags. At the very start of the line, up the front steps of the house on the front porch, sitting on a chair, was Wisteria. She was holding onto the hands of an old woman as she spoke.

A young woman was leaving, clearly already having talked to Wisteria. Damien nodded at her. She nodded back stiffly. "Hello, Damien," she said in a cool voice.

"Hello."

Her expression changed into a soft smile when she turned to Wendy. "A new following of our Holy Oracle?" she asked.

"None of your business," Damien responded.

"How cold, as always." She held her hands together. "A sinner like you living with our Holy Oracle, no doubt you are a corrupting force on her. May I ask you to leave? Or better yet, die?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Venus. If you're done for today, then leave."

"Pity. I look forward to the day you disappear from the Oracle's life," Venus said. She nodded at Wendy before walking away.

Wendy watched her leave. "Who is she?" she croaked, her voice still raspy from all the crying.

"Venus. Wisteria's most devoted follower, or so she claims. She's just another one of those crazies who's taking advantage of her. Forcing her to sit at that chair all day. Forcing her to listen to their problems and making her fix them." He stared at the line darkly, his jaw clenched.

"Does Wisteria want to do this?"

"She's too nice to refuse. And they give us stuff like money too, so it's not like she can say no." He pulled her away from the front gate. "Come on, we'll enter from the backdoor. I won't be able to stop myself from punching them if another one approaches me."

Wendy wanted to ask him more, but seeing how angry Damien looked, she decided against it. Silently, they entered the house from the backdoor, into the kitchen.

"Go wash your face. I'll get dinner started," Damien said, picking up the yellow apron draped over a chair and slipping it over his head.

Wendy nodded, heading up the stairs and into the bedroom they had shown her to the night before. She entered the bathroom and had to stop herself from gasping. Her green eyes were red and swollen, and it looked like she had gotten into a fist-fight. Her blonde hair was everywhere, and one of her braids were even undone.

Damien and Venus had seen her like this? She splashed water onto her face, the cold water cooling down her burning cheeks. One of her hair ties had fallen out somewhere, so she braided her hair into one long braid instead of the twin-braid hairstyle she had been wearing since she had entered grade school.

She examined herself in the mirror again. She still looked like an utter mess, but not as atrocious as before.

She stepped out of the bathroom. The room they gave her was nice, with large windows facing the front of the house and a large, comfortable bed tucked away at the corner. A shelf was sitting beside it, empty. 'Who lived here before?'

Honestly, the past two days were becoming too much for her to comprehend. In fact, she doubted any of this had actually hit her yet. But she had already cried out all her energy, and she was too tired to think anymore. The sound of Damien cooking downstairs and the warmth of the room just made her sleepier, and Wendy collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to crawl under the covers. Within seconds, she was asleep.