She looks at me like sheseesme.
I wonder what she thinks she can see.
My mouth opens—
The lights above us flicker as I’m watching her. It means that I get a front-row seat to the sheer terror that sweeps over her facebefore we’re plunged into darkness, the storm outside getting the better of the outdated electrics in this shitty bar.
Chaos.
Around us, the sound of smashing glass rings out as dozens of drunk people start to panic in the pitch black. Cries and shouts ring out, and I’m shoved in the back as someone pushes past me.
I stumble forward into her, my hands closing over her shoulders with an apology on my lips.
But the girl – she doesn’t move at all. She’s rigid and silent amidst the chaos around us, her shoulders tense beneath my touch.
“Hey,” I say, my voice loud over the noise. “You okay?”
Nothing. She says nothing, and concern spikes in my chest. Concern for someone else. Concern outside of my own head.
My hands are still closed over her shoulders, and I gently squeeze. “You with me?”
Where the hell is the back-up generator in this place?
I just catch it, then. The smallest sound, as if it’s torn from somewhere deep inside her.
The people around us are scared.
But this girl… this girl is beyond scared. Someone knocks into her from behind and she staggers into me. Instinctively, I close my arms around her. And she’sshaking, her entire body trembling in a way that tells me her fears are deeper than just a brief blackout in a bar.
My heart squeezes, and I hold onto her. My words are a low murmur as I hold her tightly, my shoulders squaring as I brace us against the onslaught around us. “What’s your name?”
She sucks in a ragged breath, stiff against me. “E…Emmy. Emmy Marsters.”
Something flips in my chest at the small words. “Okay, Emmy Marsters. I’m Benjamin Bennett. Yes, it’s ridiculous.”
No response. Just the feel of her breathing against me, ragged pants and a dampness against my chest that tells me she’s crying.
I swallow.
I’m not this person. I’ve never been this person.
I am not the person who helps.
I’m the person whoneedshelp.
But Emmy needs help right now, and she’s stuck with me. Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting go of her until the lights come back on.
More glass smashes next to us, as we’re pushed aside by people rushing toward where the exit is.
Fuck. If they don’t cut it out, we’re going to end up in a damn crush.
Making a decision, I crouch down and lift Emmy up, curling my hands under her. “Sorry. Just… hold onto me, okay?”
Her head is nestled against my neck, small huffs of breath against my skin as I strain to make out details around us. Others have their phone torches on, lights bouncing everywhere and making me queasy, but I catch a glimpse of an empty booth across from us in one of the light flashes and make my way toward it.
My shoulders curve forward, protecting Emmy the best I can from the crowd around us until my foot kicks against the base of the booth. I don’t bother sliding in. I stepup, my boot gripping the worn leather as I climb. Bringing Emmy with me, I swing my leg over the back of the seat, sitting on top of the space between the booths instead of wedging us into the small, cramped seats.
I scoot back until my back is against the slightly sticky wall, Emmy cradled in my arms. The seats offer a layer of protection against the carnage in front of me, and I hold her tightly, my hand running over her hair. “There. Just need to wait it out.”
