Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 3 (WTW Sequel)

"Can we talk?" I say, the words choked in my throat.

"Busy." He waves a hand dismissively as he stares at the map. "I don't have time to waste."

The wire digs deeper into my heart. "Okay. Well. I'll leave you guys to it."

"Where are you going?" Janie calls after me as I head for the corridor.

When I don't answer, I hear her chiding Marcus for being insensitive and close my eyes at the impatient rumble of his voice. I'm too far away to make out his words, which is a small mercy. I don't think I can stand hearing all the ways he hates me now. One more slice of the barbed wire and I'll be drowning in my own blood.

I follow the stairs to the top floor, using the light from the cellphone as I shove open a jammed door and take in the office in front of me. The worn leather chair lets out a puff of dust when I sink into it. I place the phone face-up on the desk and lean back in the chair, grateful for the cocoon of silence while simultaneously hating what it means.

Loneliness. It was a shroud I used to wear comfortably before the stress facility. Now it feels stifling, a reminder of things I held once and lost. Carson is dead for all I know. Alec took the life of my stepfather in a moment of rage. Willow is as much of a stranger to me as she was the day we met. Janie is a stranger, no matter how warm and friendly she might be now.

And I've lost Marcus.

Oh, God. I'm gripped by pain so intense that I clutch my chest. It shouldn't hurt this much to lose someone I didn't know for more than a couple of weeks, but this ache runs too deep. It's the kind of pain that comes from love and affection and overpowering attachment.

I love him. My mind might not remember it, but my heart does and it's feeling the full effects of heartbreak. This can't be what my life has become, can it? Losing everyone I care about, including a boy I loved so deeply I can still sense the echo of such a profound feeling?

Are you going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself?

My spine straightens. No, Sam. I'm not that selfish.

I pick up the phone and thumb through the texts I was too distressed to check earlier. They all date back to two months. That must be around the time I got this phone—or replaced the one I had before it. No messages from Marcus, which tells me something. Our problems started before then. Most of the texts between me and the others are informational.

Almost there.

Meet you at the park after lunch.

Wait for the signal.

None of them mean anything substantial now, but they indicate activity and action. Planning. Coordination. I'm surprised that I was usually on the receiving end of commands. I didn't expect to be like Marcus, charging around and giving orders, but there doesn't seem to be a single text that suggests I made any decisions in what the group did.

The tone of the texts changes as time progresses. The ones dated a few weeks ago are more urgent, exasperated, and usually from Willow.

Where the hell are you?

Marcus is leaving. You're going to split up the group if you don't hurry up.

You need to decide if he's worth your life.

I stare at the last message, my heart racing. Who is he? The mysterious person who texted me? I can't make sense of this, and the only way I'm going to figure it out is to ask someone. Willow is out of the question. She wouldn't want to undo her precious hypnosis.