I lie perfectly still and contemplate why she is having such an effect on me. It’s not her looks; I’ve been around plenty of beautiful women. Maybe it’s because I’m not hiding from her. She already knows who I really am, and her knowledge isn’t a threat like it was when Keller started his verbal assault on me from his soapbox. She can’t tell anyone without exposing herself, which leaves me to speak freely with her.
She’s a reminder of the good moments of the culture I left behind when I fled the capital, and the nostalgic feeling increases my desire and willingness to talk to her about long forgotten pastimes. Movies, books, and music have been stripped from my life, and I miss those things.
Her presence and this little adventure into the mountainside have also pushed my dispatching of Mack into the back of my mind. I’m grateful for the reprieve though I wonder how long it will last. I’ve killed before, and the deed always comes back to haunt my mind and disturb my sleep, regardless of how deserved the killing may have been.
Aerin turns over to lie on her side with her back near mine and adjusts the blankets. The pocket of air between us is warmed by our combined body heat, and though I’m very aware of it, at least we aren’t actually touching. I keep my eyes closed and steady my breathing.
Despite all the insanity of the evening, I’m exhausted and fall asleep relatively quickly.
“Talen! Behind you!” Byron’s voice echoed off the brick buildings.
I spun around
, knife gripped securely in my hand. I only barely registered the figure closing in on me before I had to attack. I pivoted, flipped my right-handed knife into chambered position, and struck with both knives at once without a thought. The figure dropped, blood covered my hands, and my mind blanked as the body fell to the ground at my feet, eyes staring forward.
I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move. I’d killed him, and I couldn’t take it back.
I heard a loud blast and then a shout from my companion. I turned around just in time to see him drop to his knees.
“Go, Talen!” he screamed. “Run!”
Bullets whizzed around me as I sprinted around the corner and down the alley. I ran as fast as I could, fighting against a deep cramp in my side and my thigh, until I couldn’t run any more. I had no idea where I was or if I was still being followed. The night grew dark and cold as I hid myself behind plastic rubble and tried to catch my breath.
Despite all the lessons with the knives, Byron was the killer, not me. He already had blood on his hands and had no qualms about taking a life. I wasn’t supposed to have to do such a thing. I told him time and time again, and he agreed. He would do whatever killing was necessary for us to escape.
“This isn’t me,” I whispered to myself as those blank, dead eyes filled my head, and tears flowed down my face. “This isn’t me. This isn’t me.”
The image faded and was replaced with another and another. More blood, more killing. All I wanted to do was save lives, and instead, I had become a monster. I rose up, blood dripping from my daggers and screamed at the ash-filled, grey sky.
I awaken with tense muscles and a pit in my stomach.
For a moment, I don’t know where I am. I feel a warm body cradled in my arms, and my immediate thought is that I’m in Ava’s bed, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t smell right.
Aerin.
At some point in the night, I must have rolled over and wrapped my arms around her. My thigh is up against her hip, and my arm is wrapped around her waist. My head is pressed against the edge of her pillow, and I can feel her hair tickle my cheek.
When I open my eyes, I see her head tilted up and her eyes staring right into mine.
For a long moment, I can only look at her—frozen in place—and wonder how long we’ve been like this. I feel her body alongside mine and have to resist the urge to press up against her. Before the urge becomes too great, I snatch my arm away and roll to my back.
“Sorry,” I mutter. I feel my face flush.
“It’s all right,” she says quietly. “It’s still kind of cold in here.”
“Yeah, it is.” I push myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The tile floor is cold on the soles of my feet, so I hurry into the bathroom to relieve myself, put a little distance between us, and get myself together. My clothes are reasonably dry, so I put them back on and head back into the living area where Aerin is sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal.
“There isn’t any milk, of course,” she says, “but it’s not too bad on its own.”
I nod and pour some corn flakes into a bowl. I pick them out one by one and shove them into my mouth. I can feel Aerin’s eyes on me, but I don’t look up at her. I keep my gaze on the flakes in the bowl.
“You talk in your sleep, you know,” she says suddenly.
“I do?” I look up from the bowl to find her smiling.
“Yes, you do.”
“What did I say?”