Kate
Ican’t keep my mouth shut.
“You saved me. Again.” I swallow hard, blinking up at him, “Why?” Even inside it’s cold enough to see my breath as I talk.
His gaze slowly shifts to mine and lingers; yet he says nothing. A fluttery wave ripples low in my belly. I want him to tell me. I want to know why he just helped me. It doesn’t make any sense. Why didn’t he leave me with those people? And thewayhe’s staring at me right now—it makes my skin heat up—making me hyper-aware of every inch of it.
My hands drop to my sides, my fingertips tingle strangely, and my heart hammers in my chest, strong and quick.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, blue eyes still fixed on mine. Strong, thick fingers ball into fists and I wonder why. I wonder if he wants to reach out and touch me. The thought is hot and fast. It thuds through my chest in a staggering rhythm. Quickly, I look away. My cheeks burn red hot when the thought of his fingertips trailing down my throat cloud my mind.
The thoughts are obscene. Maybe there’s some sort of syndrome I have—something to do with someone saving you from a life or death situation—some sort of hero attraction or trauma bonding or something.
“They’re leaving,” he whispers, his attention focused outside the window again. I can hear them out on the street, metal hinges squeaking and crunching over the fresh falling snow. The sounds lower slowly and an icy shiver spirals through my shoulders.Why did he ignore my question? Why did he look at me like that?
“Let me see your legs,” he whispers.
That’s highly inappropriate.Is that what they do where he comes from—show each other their knees?And if I thought my face was bright red before, it’s nothing like the blazing inferno I feel slap across my cheeks now. It ignites down my neck and scorches across my chest.
“You’re hurt,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Badly.”
“Huh?” That’s all I can manage because I really don’t get the way he’s looking at me like I have three heads.He’s the stupid alien, not me.
His eyebrows squish together and he scratches absently at his jaw. “You fell. You’re bleeding through your clothing. Roll up your pant legs and let me see them.”
This time, even my ears burn red.Of course it wouldn’t be what I was thinking. That’s not embarrassing at all. Nope.
“I’m fine,” I stammer, shuffling my feet. I look back out the window and try desperately to pretend that I’m not affected by any of the strange thoughts twirling around in my head. He doesn’t know I have them anyway, so it’s good.It’s all good.
“We should stay here for a few hours. You need to rest, get warm. Regenerate.”
“Regenerate?” I can’t make sense of his words. “No, I need to get my sister.” I start to move toward the door and double over in pain.
“Please,” he says softly. “Surely you understand you need to heal or you’ll be no help to your sister at all.”
I clench my jaw tight. I know he’s right, but I don’t want him to see how much pain I’m in. “Fine, just for the rest of the day and then tomorrow, no matter what, you’re taking me to get Claire.” I hope to God the people that once lived here have a fully stocked medicine cabinet.
He nods his head, eyes still scanning the streets below us.
I cross my arms over my chest and stand like an idiot. I bob my head, twisting my mouth as if I’m thinking of some really important things. “Maybe we should search this building. There might be other things we could—”
“Go ahead, if you’re really feeling fine,” he says, eyes still focusing on what’s outside.
“I’ll just go then,” I say quietly, walking toward the door. Pain shoots up my legs but I try my best to ignore it. My sides ache and my face feels bruised, butI told him I was fine, so it’s what I’m going to have to be. Hopefully, this will be the last day we spend together and soon I can find Claire and a safe place for us to ride out this…whatever this is.
I hobble out into the hallway, my body stiff and trembling from the aftershocks of the adrenaline rush before. As I trudge through the darkened rooms, each step fuels my courage. Iwillfind my sister and Iwillsave her. And right now, I will find something to eat because I’m suddenly ravenous.
The inside of the building is awash in dark cerulean tones, disrupted only by pale gray shafts of light that slip in through shredded curtains.
The kitchen holds a few treasures. Protein bars and a few boxes of cereals. Bottles of water and a cabinet full of canned vegetables. I’m even lucky enough to find one of those handheld can openers—one that doesn’t need electricity to work.
In the bathroom I find a full medicine cabinet to get blindingly high off of. The first thing I grab is a bottle of over-the-counter pain relievers and pop a few in my mouth, swallowing them dry. All I need is a little edge off the pain, that’s all.
I swipe the rest of the crap into my backpack and close the cabinet. My reflection on the mirror stares back at me. I don’t even recognize myself. Matted hair, blood and dirt caked all over my skin. There are cuts and gashes and bruises all over my face and jaw.
My breath catches in my throat when my eyes fall on my neck and the hand-shaped bruises that darken my skin. Tears blur my vision and I back away from the mirror, from the sight of me battered and beaten.
I tear through the drawers under the sink and find a few packages of baby wipes and tear them open. Starting with my hands I scrub my skin. I scour off layers of grime and blood until I see the color of flesh. Up my arms and across my shoulders and chest. I rub gently at my neck and face, but the busted capillaries remain and ache sharply with pain.
