I shake my head in frustration and choose to focus on my baby. He’s just started rolling onto his chest now. Another tiny little milestone in his life, flashing before my eyes. I just wish I was in the headspace where I could enjoy it.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Charity,” I say. “You were the one who wanted to come here. Then you wanted me to talk to him and ask for money.”
“Yes—because we need a means to survive.”
“And I have a bag of money upstairs in our room that’ll hold us over for a while.”
“This is Las Vegas, Elyssa,” Charity snaps impatiently. “That money won’t last us more than a couple of months.”
I’m not used to anger. Back in the Sanctuary, only men were permitted to feel it. To express it. Women like me were taught that giving into rage was giving into sin: utte
