Not even the lingering sweetness of medicine on her tongue could soothe Credence to sleep. 

Her mind was full of awful, hateful things about her parents, and she could do nothing to stop the intrusive images of Pa dragging children into the woods, laughing as they screamed and struggled. Curiously, Pa's face was not his own in her imaginings, but took the form of the demon who had possessed him.

For some reason, this made it slightly easier to come to terms with who Pa was.

I am the child of a villain, she thought hatefully. A thief of children.

She touched her skin symbol, trying to trace its shape in the darkness.

The more she thought of it, the more she couldn't bear having the brand of a devil sitting in her skin forever.

Was this the reason the Queen of the Wood had been so angry with Ma for marrying him? Did the Queen know what he really was—

And Ma had gone to him all the same. She must have known about his misdeeds. There was nothing her parents withheld from each other, Credence was certain of that.

Who was worse? The monster, or the one who chose to love him?

Guilt and rage swirled in equal measure, culminating in one atrocious thought:

I don't want to be their child.

She spent the rest of the night in turmoil, muttering to herself about the misery of her life.

I don't want to be their child.

If her parents hated the towns so much, it might be best to embrace it. Embrace the way of life here, as unusual and grim as it could be, to spite her wicked parents. She would go against everything she'd been taught, for nothing a villain preached against could be bad, could it?

But first, Credence somberly mused, I need to rid myself of their memory.

***

At breakfast Credence was sullen and quiet, barely taking more than three bites of her egg and sausage.

But she surreptitiously pocketed her knife when the meal was finished.

She did not appear for lessons, but wandered to the washing room and tucked herself into a corner. Holding her knees to her chest, she began to cry. She could not bear to spend one more day as the child of criminals, and she vowed not to return to the world until she severed herself from them.

Credence rolled up her sleeve and looked at the skin symbol, that blot of sin, and her jaw clenched. She took the stolen knife and dug it into the skin symbol, gently at first, then with a growing fervor that surpassed any pain. She watched the blade pierce the ink, and the blood roll down her arm, with indifference.

If I could stand to have it done to me, I can stand to take it away.

I don't want to be their child.

The pain was great, and Credence couldn't tell if it was more torturous than when Ma poked the hot needle into her, but her resolve was stronger than any discomfort, stronger than the sight of her blood falling to the floor, stronger than the dizzying nausea that spread through her after several moments of tearing into herself.

But even the strongest will bows to fatigue, and with little food and even less sleep in her body, the shock caught up to Credence and she slumped towards the ground, falling to black.

***

Drops of water. Cold. Splashing over her face.

When Credence opened her eyes she was met with the scowling face of a domestic.

"You're awake," said a small voice and the old woman moved away to reveal Penny propped up with pillows in a bed.

"They were worried about you," Penny said plainly. She nodded her head towards the still-frowning domestic.

Credence opened her mouth to speak but only a groan tumbled out, and an intense jolt of pain that came from her arm. The domestic clucked her tongue and held a finger to Credence's lips, shushing her. It was only after Credence nodded that the old woman took her finger away and lifted Credence's body with curiously strong arms, pulling her into a sitting position and tucking pillows behind her back to hold her up.

Lightning bolts of pain raced through Credence at the slightest movement of her body, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from cursing at the old woman.

There were several rows of beds in the room around them, all empty save the two that held Penny and Credence.

A spoon was held up to Credence, and the domestic tapped it against her lips as an instruction to open her mouth to receive a serving of medicine. When she was satisfied Credence had swallowed, the domestic grunted and scurried away, leaving the two girls alone.

Another agonizing shock struck Credence, and she looked over to find the upper half of her arm, from elbow to shoulder, wrapped in cloth bandages. Peeking through their starched whiteness was a whisper of red.

"We're in the infirmary," Penny said. "I know that's what you were going to ask."

The question hadn't been on Credence's mind.

The infirmary.

"How did I get here?" Credence's voice was little more than a rasp.

"Headmaster carried you." Penny looked at Credence's bandages. "You were bleeding all over the place. What did you do?"

"I was...I wanted to be rid of my past."

Penny scoffed. "By killing yourself?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"The Headmaster said you were. I heard him talking to the domestics—found you with a knife in your arm and your fingers around the handle. What got into that weird mind of yours?"

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Credence repeated, a little more harshly.

"Well, you weren't helping yourself, either. That wound was disgusting! Headmaster said you'll be lucky if it doesn't fester."

"Where is the Headmaster?"

"In lessons, probably."

"He must have immediately noticed I was missing from lessons," Credence said smugly.

The Headmaster liked her, she was certain of it. She might even be close to becoming one of his favorites.

"That's not what he told the domestics," Penny snarked. "Someone noticed you weren't at dinner and then he went looking."

Dinner?

"How long have I been here?"

"Three days in that bed," Penny said nonchalantly. "Have you really been asleep this whole time?"

Have you not noticed? Credence thought but didn't say.

She studied her surroundings. The infirmary looked like her sleeping quarters, only without the comforting presence of other students.

There was nothing but quiet and the faint smell of blood.

And Penny, who wouldn't stop scowling.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Credence challenged.

"Long enough. They're going to let me out soon. I'll get to go back to lessons and you'll have to sit here with nobody to talk to, just like I did. Serves you right for telling on me."

"You're still mad at me for that?" Penny didn't answer. "I was worried—I saw you eat your hair."

"Doesn't matter what you think you saw," Penny snapped. "You had no right to meddle in my business."

Credence winced as pain chased its way through her. She remembered what the Headmaster told her, that Penny's habit was a way to soothe herself. Credence had the sudden realization that she had a habit of her own, and was currently engaging in it by biting the soft flesh on the inside of her cheek.

Embarrassment washed over her.

"I'm sorry, Penny."

Penny's frown relaxed.

"You're always causing trouble," Penny whispered. "A lot of us think it's because you're wild."

"I'm not wild."

"What do you call living in the woods like some animal?"

"I'm not an animal either."

"Ever since you got here there's been more and more disruptions. Some say you brought a curse here. Others say you're not a person at all, but changeling or a goblin. Maybe even a witch."

Credence raised her eyebrow but remained silent.

"You're too wild to be in the towns and you're probably bad luck. I hope I'm not bought by the same keeper as you."

Credence considered her accusation. Did the other students think that? Did they really believe she was the cause of recent disturbances? It was an uncomfortable place, being on the receiving end of suspicion, and Credence realized how terrible the Headmaster must have felt when she placed skepticism on him.

Worst of all, she couldn't help but entertain the notion that there might be some truth to it.

What if I am bad luck—or a curse?

"How are you feeling?" Credence asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from herself.

"I'm fine," came the terse response.

"What happened to you? You were making noises, and—"

"I had an upset stomach. I don't want to talk about it."

"But you—"

"Shut your mouth!"

Penny twisted her body away from Credence.

"I'm sorry," Credence whispered. "I don't mean to be trouble."

"Trouble can't help what it is," Penny tossed over her shoulder. "Saying 'sorry' doesn't change anything."

Silence fell between them. Credence lifted her hand to her bandaged arm and gently poked it. 

Did I succeed in getting rid of—

The instant her finger connected with the cloth another shot of pain rang through her, and she withdrew her hand quickly as if she had touched fire.

She'd have to wait to see if her task was complete.

But what if it wasn't? Did she have the strength to finish it?

The wound was throbbing like it had a heartbeat of its own, and felt hot beneath the bandages. Credence longed to dip herself into the coldest water imaginable.

"Where is Adam?" Credence asked out loud as the thought struck her.

"How should I know," Penny hissed with her head still turned away.

After a moment of consideration, Penny added, "I haven't seen him here. No one's said his name, not once."

Strange, Credence thought. But not a reason to worry. She'd been away from the world for three whole days—who knew what she had missed?

With nothing to occupy the time, the seconds ticked away like hours. Penny remained petulantly resolute about not speaking to Credence, an odd thing considering she had been in the infirmary longer. It was a wonder Penny wasn't elated to have company.

She must truly hate me, Credence thought, and the notion hurt her more than she would admit.

As the day snailed on, Credence began to think sitting in quiet boredom was worse than digging a knife into her arm, and she feared that if something didn't come along to relieve her mind she would scream.

There weren't even any windows through which she could watch the sun rise and fall. The other side of the walls remained eerily silent, without any telling footsteps from the other students to mark the passing of time. The only indication that the day progressed at all came in the form of a lone domestic bringing them dinner's stew, but she fed them simultaneously in turns, one spoonful at a time. The process was so exhaustingly slow that it drove Credence to the brink of her patience.

I can lift a spoon, she thought grumpily while watching the domestic raise the utensil to Penny's mouth. Give me my own damn bowl so I can eat at a proper damn pace!

When the bowls were finally empty the domestic offered them water, once more feeding them in turns, until the cups were drained. After that came a dose of medicine, and then the domestic left, not having spoken a single word to either of them.

Penny immediately leaned back and shut her eyes.

How can she possibly sleep, Credence thought, we've done nothing but lay in bed all day!

Their dinner must have been prepared with something to help it, for Credence quickly found her eyes heavy and closing, and her head fell back onto the pillow, taking her into a dreamless rest.

By the time dinner was brought to them the next day, Credence was ready to tear her pillow apart with her teeth. They hadn't so much as a book to keep them busy—Because not many know how to read, Credence remembered gloomily—and Penny, content that her peer was wallowing in lonely misery, still refused to speak, no matter how many times Credence tried to goad her into conversation.

But the domestic came with dinner and the Headmaster, and the sight of him was a merciful gift, so much that Credence thought she might leap from the bed and throw her arms around his neck. He smiled at the girls and sat on a stool between their beds. Credence had almost forgotten how handsome he was.

"How are you, Penny?" he addressed the longer-stayed girl first.

"Much better, Headmaster."

"And you, Credence?"

"Good as ever, except for the boredom."

The Headmaster chuckled and Penny shot her a scathing look.

"The infirmary can be a frightfully dull place, but you're lucky to have some company at least, yes?"

Credence wanted to say she wasn't lucky at all, and Penny had been the worst possible company in the world. Instead, she nodded, not wanting to upset anyone.

"I've wonderful news for the two of you," the Headmaster said. "You've been deemed fit to return to school—unless you need another day of rest?"

Both girls practically screamed their argument against such a thing.

"I thought as much. We'll have you both out and returned to your lessons tomorrow morning."

He fed them their dinner, moving mercifully quicker than the domestic, and as a treat allowed them two spoonful's of medicine instead of one. He placed a kiss on each of their heads before saying goodnight and leaving the infirmary.

"That's exciting, isn't it?" Credence asked, hoping to find Penny's mood lifted.

"Yes," Penny said, but her tone was somber.

"Don't you want to leave?"

"Go to sleep," Penny grumbled and turned her back to Credence. "Tomorrow I'll escape this dreadful room and I'll never have to talk to you again."

Credence couldn't understand why Penny clung to her hate, but was comforted by the fact that tomorrow morning she would be rid of such sour company. She settled into bed and closed her eyes, with visions of leaving the infirmary and never looking back dancing across her thoughts.

***

It was dark when Credence woke.

She was unsure whether or not she was still dreaming when she heard voices whispering.

"The new one's settled," said an unfamiliar woman's voice.

"Just in time for its sister," said the Headmaster.

"Might rouse suspicion. Remember the chaos before?"

"What of it?"

"How do you intend to explain this one?"

The Headmaster snorted. "You always worry during these times. There won't be any suspicion."

"And if you're wrong? What if they manage a revolt? There'd be nothing but dust and roots left. We'd have to move on."

"We've done it before, but I'm not concerned. Come, look for yourself."

Lantern's light burst into life, and at the entrance of the infirmary Credence saw the illuminated faces of the Headmaster and a woman. She watched through half-closed eyes as the pair approached and stopped to lean over Penny's bed.

The Headmaster lowered the lantern to shine light on the girl's face.

"See? Right there."

"I do," the woman said and Credence recognized her as one of the domestics. "Across the cheek and brow."

"Won't be long," the Headmaster said.

"But they've got work detail coming up!"

"All the better to cover any incidents. I've already—"

The Headmaster paused. He raised the lantern to shine light on Credence's face, and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to maintain a calm breathing rhythm in hope that it would convince them she was asleep. Their words were unsettling, though Credence couldn't place any obvious harm in them.

"Credence," the Headmaster whispered, "are you awake? I have a surprise for you."

She could feel his gaze burning into her face, but she did not open her eyes or answer him.

"Keep an eye on that one," he whispered. "She'd got a mind full of doubt and takes note of every little thing."

"Why not have the pair?"

"She's been paid for."

"Ah. We'll be careful."

The Headmaster chuckled and the light left Credence's face to shine upon Penny once more.

"I've always thought the lottery was a clever idea," he said.

"Poor luck it chose the classmate of someone naturally cautious." 

"Caution is an easy thing to quell. They're still children, after all, and a child's mind yearns for comfort above everything else. Even survival."