Ellucid (Ellucid #1) ★

Fourteen

I feel my whimper reverberate against my hands. My vision blurs away the gory, bloody aftermath, and my gaze drops back down to those knuckles bound by the rope. They're fixed in the same position, frozen.

I don't want to look up at Asher, but I do. His square jaw is set, his eyes steely. A week's worth of stubble has built up on his cheeks and chin, aging him by years. In my delirium I want him to look over at me, for our eyes to lock to see if he even recognizes me anymore. But he doesn't glance my way, and if he did he'd probably kill me, too.

I don't realize I'm wheezing into my hands until Emery pulls them down, folding them into his own. My eyes are still frozen on the knuckles, my jaw dropped a few inches so the chilly evening air bites against my teeth. Tears dry on my cheeks, but no new ones fall.

"Gabi." Emery tugs at my arms, trying to pull me back down the fire escape. "We have to get out of here."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, his words register. With shaking legs, I cross the balcony, craning my neck to see Asher again. Emery's hands steady my shoulders, keeping me aligned towards our exit. I resent him for denying me that last look.

I have trouble breathing when we reach the ground, not from exertion but from pure shock. My muscles are drawn tight, and I feel like any second I might hear another gunshot.

Emery has to pull me to the subway station. I hate how disobedient my limbs are, how fuzzy my mind feels. I hate that I'm weak, like a rag doll that can't move on its own. When we're inside the subway, I collapse on my bench, wrapping my hands around the cool metal pole and pressing my forehead against it. The wheels of the train grate against the tracks, and it sounds like two teeth screeching against each other.

"Try to take some deep breaths," Emery says, folding his hands together in his lap. His fingers dance, forming a temple and then twisting around each other, so I concentrate on that. They twitch, the muscles still moving, blood still pumping through the veins. Alive.

I've seen people die in movies. I've read about it in books, heard about it in the news. It's a disconcerting, uneasy feeling thinking about it happening in real life. But that feeling is nothing compared to the sensation of witnessing it. One second that girl had been alive: quaking and begging and crying, but alive. The next her brain had been on the floor, and I'd watched the life go out of her eyes. Watched death run into her like a subway train. Watched Asher be the one to kill her.

"Gabi, you're starting to hyperventilate. Calm down."

Only in New York City does nobody blink an eye as I grip the pole tighter, squeezing my eyes shut to block the tears from streaming out. People yell into their phones and slurp down coffee and talk over each other as if it's just another ordinary day on another ordinary train. But it's not—it can't be now that my perception of the world has been flipped upside down.

When the subway pulls up to the SoHo station, I'm resting with my back pressed against the bench, a semblance of normality. My hands are folded in my lap, the fingers pressed against each other just like Emery's were, shaking to hold back my anger and fear. Emery's on his phone texting, but every once in a while he glances over at me to make sure I'm all right.

"This is our stop," he says, standing. "Let's go. You look like you need a nap."

I'm tired of sleeping. I want to go in the training room and strap on some boxing gloves. I want to punch things until my knuckles bleed and sweat mixed with tears runs down my face. But I don't tell Emery this. I just nod and stand, following him off the train like I'm attached to him by an invisible rope.

I get more and more tired with every step I take towards HQ, as if someone has a remote synced up to me and they're draining my energy little by little. Climbing the steps to the apartment complex entrance, I almost can't lift one foot in front of the other.