Through the Zombie Glass

Page 12

 

  “Okay, let me rephrase. I know it means we’re over. We have to be. I’ve almost lost you twice, and I’m going to lose you for good when the visions start coming true. I’m not going to hang on to a lost cause, Ali. ”

  Panic set in. I had to make him understand. “I’m not a lost cause. We’re not a lost cause. I don’t like Gavin. ”

  “But you will. ”

  No! “Don’t do this,” I said. “Please. You have to trust me. Please,” I said again, and I didn’t care how desperate I sounded. “There are some things you can never take back, and this is one of them. ”

  A terrible stillness came over him. I wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Then he was stomping to the wall, throwing a fist.

  Boom! I flinched. Plaster gave, leaving a hole. Dust mushroomed through the air.

  Here was the dangerous boy I’d been warned about in the beginning. The one mothers wanted to hide from their daughters. The panty melter, I’d heard a few girls at school call him. The boy others feared. The violent criminal. The hard-hearted machine.

  “I’m not going to look at Gavin and suddenly start wanting him,” I whispered. I couldn’t even imagine it. “You’re the one for me. And this isn’t like you,” I added. “You never back down. You never walk away from a fight. ” Fight for me.

  He pressed his forehead into the damaged wall.

  “Cole,” I said quietly. Must get through to him. “Do you want Veronica?”

  “No,” he said, and I could have sobbed with relief. “Not even a little. ”

  “See!”

  “Ali, I. . . ” He straightened, turned toward me. I saw the panic a split second before a sheet of ice fell over his features, and that ice was far worse than the fury he’d displayed earlier. “Our feelings right now aren’t the problem. One day I hope you’ll forgive me. I doubt I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. But. . . we’re done. ”

  Done.

  Just like that.

  Over. Finished.

  “Cole. ”

  “We’re done,” he repeated more firmly. “We’re done. ”

  How finite he sounded. How sure.

  For the second time in my life, my heart broke into thousands of pieces. I thought I would die. But this time, I had the second heart, the new one, whatever it was, to pick up the slack, to keep me alive.

  Silent now, he backed up, away from me.

  “I won’t come crawling after you,” I croaked.

  “I don’t want you to. ”

  With those five words, he shredded the rest of me. Spirit, soul and body. I wouldn’t give him the chance to do it again. I couldn’t. “I won’t take you back even if you come crawling back to me. ”

  “I know,” he said, despair creeping into his tone. “And I won’t. . . . I can’t. . . . ” He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can say to make either of us feel better about this, and I’m sorry about that. You’ll probably never know how much. But that’s not going to change my mind. It has to be this way. ”

  He turned and left.

  Chapter 6

  Welcome to Your Nightmare

  I. . .

  Broke. . .

  Down.

  Somehow I found the strength to stand. My legs shook. With fury. Sorrow. Helplessness. Regret.

  Pain.

  I wanted to chase after Cole and tear into him the way he’d just done to me. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream at him.

  I wanted him to hurt the way I was hurting.

  I wanted to cry and beg him to come back to me.

  I wanted his arms around me.

  I wanted to hate him.

  Maybe I did hate him. Today he’d proved he wasn’t the admirable boy I’d thought he was. How could he be? He’d cut me loose the same way he’d cut Mackenzie loose. As if I meant nothing. Only difference was, I’d had a little warning. I just hadn’t wanted to face the truth of it.

  I wanted to avoid him forever.

  I’d see him again. Of course I would. We would even talk to each other. We’d have to. In a way, he was my boss. He set the nightly rotation schedule. He headed up all training. But the easy camaraderie we’d shared was over. The bantering. The kissing. The touching.

  Over.

  He’d wanted to protect himself, and me, from further hurt, from fighting a losing battle, from whatever mystery he refused to discuss, from the devastation and shame of falling for other people while we were still together.

  I’d been willing to risk it.

  He’d decided I wasn’t worth the effort.

  I looked around the room that wasn’t mine. It was only a loaner. The only things I owned were the clothes in the dresser and closet. I stumbled to the dresser without knowing why—until I felt my fingers curl around the edge and my arms push forward, sending the piece of furniture crashing into the floor.

  I grabbed a drawer and tossed it, then another, and another. Socks and underwear went flying in every direction. Seeing them lying on the floor only made me madder. I was just like them. Tossed aside. In a place I didn’t belong.

  Cole had just changed the entire course of my life, and I’d been helpless to stop him. Just like I’d been helpless to stop the car crash.

  How many other changes would I be forced to endure?

  Everything changed. The world. The seasons. Time. People. Nothing and no one ever stayed the same. Accepting another change should be easy. After all, even I would change. One day, I would forget about Cole and the feelings I had for him. I would move on.

  And so would he.

  He would date another girl.

  My gaze drifted to the picture I kept on my nightstand. Kat had snapped it when I’d been too distracted to know anyone else was around. In it, Cole stood behind me, his arms wrapped around me. His chin rested on top of my head, and he appeared utterly content. I was smiling with the dreamy confidence of a girl rushing headlong into love.

  Love.

  I refused to love him.

  I picked up the photo and launched it across the room, my new heart racing with dangerous speed, my lungs burning, no longer able to pull in enough oxygen—as if something inside me was stealing it. My stomach curled into a ball and hardened into iron—but the iron was hollowed out and desperate to be filled. I was hungry again, so danged hungry. . . but not for food. For. . . I wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, I needed it.

  Now.

  A high-pitched ringing scraped at my ears. Sweat broke out over my brow and my palms and trickled down my back. The room spun around and around, my equilibrium shot, and I flailed for balance. . . tilting anyway. . . and felt a sharp sting against my entire right side. I must have fallen to the floor.

  Help me, I tried to call, but no words emerged. My heart sped up, faster and faster. My lungs constricted far more tightly, the burn intensifying. My hands and feet mutated into blocks of ice.

  I. . . was dying? I had to be dying.

  I crawled to the desk, reached blindly for my phone and knocked down the lamp. Glass shattered on the floor.

  Had to text Co—no, Nana. Yes, Nana. She would come. She would take care of me—she loved me. But I couldn’t see the keypad. The room was still spinning.

  Hinges squeaked. “Ali? Are you okay? What happened to your room?”

  Male voice. I recognized it. Mr. Ankh?

  Help, I tried to say, but again, no sound emerged.

  Footsteps. Strong arms slid underneath me, lifted me. I floated for a few seconds before the mattress pressed into my back.

  “Is it the toxin?” he asked, even as he stuck me in the neck with a needle. Yes, it had to be Mr. Ankh. Like the rest of us, he carried the antidote in his pocket, just in case.

  A cool stream raced through my veins, and the hunger simmered.

  “Breathe,” he said gently. “In. Out. Yes, just like that. Again. Again. ” Hands smoothed over my brow, offe
ring comfort I so desperately needed. “Again. ”

  At last, my heart. . . hearts. . . began to slow. My lungs began to fill. The sweat stopped pouring, and the chill kissed me goodbye.

  I blinked open my eyes, and saw Mr. Ankh sitting at the side of my bed. Concern bathed his still-handsome features.

  “That wasn’t just about the toxin, was it?” he asked, the concern giving way to sympathy.

  I remained silent.

  “Has that ever happened before?”

  “Wh-what?” Almost dying?

  “A panic attack?”

  Panic attack? No. “That’s not what just happened. ” I’d weathered the death of my family. A breakup wouldn’t ruin my mental stability. I wouldn’t let it.

  “Ali, sweetheart, I’m a doctor. More than that, for several years I was married to a woman with an anxiety disorder. I know a panic attack when I see one. ”

  Anxiety disorder. No. Not that, either. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice ragged. “Just tired. ”

  His smile was sad. “Did something happen to trigger it?”

  Something like losing the other part of me? “I told you I’m fine,” I replied stiffly, then regretted my tone. He was being nice, trying to help me. He didn’t deserve my rancor.

  He sighed, pushed to his feet. “The more you know about the triggers, the better you’ll handle the episodes. If you ever want to talk about it. . . ”

  “I don’t. I won’t. I’m fine, really. ”

  “All right. Well, don’t worry about the room. I’ll send someone up to clean. ”

  “No! No,” I said more gently. “I’ll take care of it. ”

  A pause, then, “If that’s what you prefer. ” Like Cole, he left the room.

  Left me alone.

  My new heart sped up all over again.

  * * *

  I righted the furniture and cleaned the room, even patched the hole in my wall. The one Cole had caused. It had reminded me of him, and I wasn’t fond of reminders right now. I threw our picture in the trash.

  The next week passed in a daze. Every day I had to bury my emotions as deep as they would go and pretend everything was peachy, just to make it through school. Kat and Reeve treated me the same; they had no idea Cole and I had broken up. I hadn’t told anyone, and for some reason, neither had he. I think the girls were onto me, though, and I expected questions very, very soon.