“I—I don’t know,” I say, confused.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
This turn of the conversation is disorienting me; my panic is still coiling. I rack my mind, trying to take inventory of the rations Clara and I have been allotted in the past decade, while simultaneously trying to determine the most discreet exit out of the airfield. I’m going to have to change plans. “Are you talking about liquid soup?”
“Liquid soup?” he repeats, his arms dropping to his sides. “Is there another kind of soup?”
I blink up at him, wiping rainwater from my eyes. “Sometimes they give us porridge.”
“Jesus.” His jaw tenses. “Look, I need to get you inside, get you warm. You’re going to die out here.”
“I’ll die when I’m ready,” I say to him.
A ghost of an angry smile touches his lips.
He pushes wet hair off his forehead and looks around at the darkening sky, bands of golden light still struggling to break through the clouds. “You’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he says, returning his gaze to me. “In the middle of a rainstorm.”
I inch away from him. “What do you mean?”
“All right, sleepyhead.” He sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”
My eyes widen. “Sleepyhead?”
“Yeah,” he says, considering me. “You always look at me like you’re about to fall asleep.”
Fresh mortification delivers me a burst of uncomfortable energy. “No, I don’t.”
He makes a face at the clouds. “Lie to me later, okay? I really don’t want to be out here for any longer than is absolutely necessary. You’re already forcing me to learn how to cook. I don’t even know how to chop an onion.”
“I’m not forcing you to—What are you talking about?”
“C’mon. Let’s go.”
I’m shaking my head. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “You ready?”
“For what?”
“To fight.” He offers me his hand. “If I win, I take you back. If I lose—” He hesitates, briefly retracting his hand. “Well, then, I guess I’m dead.”
“No,” I nearly shout. I stare at him, alarm awakening in my chest. “I won’t fight you. I don’t want to kill you—”
James reaches inside his jacket and I don’t even think before I react, jumping to my feet to land a combination of blows to a few vital organs before landing swift kicks to the backs of his knees. He slips on the wet pavement and nearly hits the ground before throwing out a hand to catch himself, hard, against the side of the truck.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, stiffening in horror. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”
“Jesus,” he mutters. He stares up at me, his faceinscrutable as he massages the side of his torso. “I was just trying to give you this before I lose the chance.” He reaches back into his jacket and retrieves something slim and rectangular, which only becomes clear once he’s pressed it into my hand.
It’s a chocolate bar.
The chocolate bar I’d received in a small pack of essentials prior to arriving at the rehab facility. I’d promised myself I’d save it for Clara—that I’d take it home to her so she could taste chocolate for the very first time. After the grisly incident with Leon in my room, I’d never had a chance to go back and get it.
“If you do manage to kill me and make it out of here,” James says, straightening, “I thought you might want to give this to your sister.”
Very slowly, I meet his eyes.
My feet are nearly numb with cold. Rain is pelting me from every direction. I can hardly feel the tip of my nose. Every inch of me is drenched, cold piercing through bone. And yet I feel nothing but a terrifying heat as I look up at him. Unmanaged, unnamed, uncategorized emotion is threatening to incinerate me.
