Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

imagine what could have caused the scars. “Your back…”
    He scoffs. “Are you squeamish, princess?”
    “What happened?” I choke out.
    “I already told you in the prison. I got my wings ripped off.”
    I don’t know what to say to that, so I glance up, meeting his gaze for a fleeting second. The red of his eyes is haunting, and as it focuses on me, it’s alluring.
    “You’re hurt pretty badly,” I mumble, focusing my attention back on his more recent wound. I realize a moment too late how stupid the words are. Of course he knows he’s hurt badly. He can feel the throbbing pain, the torn flesh and ligaments.
    “Yeah.” He shrugs. “But I’m alive, so it doesn’t matter much.”
    I look over his expression; it’s still suspicious, but not pain-filled. Not pained at
all
. “Does your species have a higher pain tolerance than humans?”
    “No.”
    “Then why don’t you look like you’re hurting?”
    “Because I’m not. I can’t feel pain anymore.”
    For a moment, I’m relieved. Lor may as well be a pot-roast, and if I make a mistake, it won’t matter all that much. But then I see his expression. His suspicion has vanished, replaced by sadness and something else. Anger.
    “You miss feeling pain,” I say, and it’s not a question.
    He runs a hand over his head, as if trying to push away his angry thoughts. “It sounds crazy, but… yeah. I miss it. I mean, pain is such a
natural
thing. It’s vital. So when you can’t feel pain, it’s like… I don’t know. It’s just…” He trails off and bites his lip.
    “It’s like someone has ripped away a part of you, and you’re no longer whole,” I say slowly. “You can’t feel, you can only react. And reacting is so much less rewarding.”
    He raises an eyebrow at me. “You can’t feel pain either?”
    “I don’t think I could really feel it properly before… someone. Now I feel it too clearly.”
    “You’re not talking about physical pain, are you?” he asks.
    I narrow my eyes. “Why would you say that?”
    “You’re so careful with the needle. And you forget to do that kind of stuff after you lose physical pain.” He cocks his head to the side. “Emotional pain. That’s your issue, isn’t it?”
    I close my eyes, trying to shut him out. “You don’t know that.”
    “Yeah, I do. Your eyes tell the whole story. They’re scarred.”
    I wince and don’t reply. After a few moments, I work up the courage to open my eyes. Lor is staring at me, this time his gaze more evaluating than critical. Then he smiles. It’s not that crazy grin of his, and not a façade. It’s just a small, reassuring smile, and it looks nice on his rugged face.
    “You shouldn’t miss the pain,” I whisper.
    He shakes his head and replies in a voice just as soft, “And you shouldn’t hide from it.”

Fifteen
    I’m not hiding. I won’t hide. I can’t.
    I repeat the words to myself over and over as I move the needle toward Lor’s chest. He flinches away, probably from some instinct that hasn’t vanished with his ability to feel pain. Then he clears his throat and stills, his fist tightly clenched at his side.
    The tendons running down his arm are so taut, they look like they’re about to burst from his skin. He stares at the needle, eyebrows furrowed, like he thinks the thing might attack.
    A small smile twitches at the corner of my lip. Of all the things an Angel could be afraid of… “You’re scared of needles.”
    He clenches his other fist into a ball. “It’s a long story.”
    “What kind of long story?” I inch the needle closer to him, careful to keep my hand steady. If I wobble, and Lor gets much more scared, then he won’t let me sew him up. And if he loses too much more blood… No, I can’t think about that option.
    “It’s… complicated,” Lor replies.
    “Meaning you have no good excuse for being afraid of them, so you’re just going to avoid my question?”
    “In a nutshell? Yeah.”
    I scoff, but don’t question him any further. “Hold still. I’m going to start.”
    He nods and squeezes his eyes shut. I spend the next few minutes re-stitching the gaping wound, pulling the pieces of flesh close and sewing them together. It’s tedious work, especially since I have to be careful of the already-stitched clawmarks above the one I work on.
    But I find I don’t have to be gentle with Lor. At first, I do my best to move slowly and delicately, purely out of habit. But I soon find Lor isn’t lying about his