Touch: Saving Ai | ✓

7

Andrew's eyes moved to the space over my shoulder.

I started to turn.

'Jesus Christ. Rin, move!' A hand grabbed hold of mine –

And time stood still.

Two minutes, forty-six seconds.

The hand yanked me backward, its owner shoving me aside. A blur of black uniform and orange hair flashed by. Slamming shoulder-first into Andrew, Ryo tackled him to the floor.

I was frozen. Petrified. Useless.

Impossible. He was supposed to die from lung cancer, how could –

No.

Nononono.

My visions were finite. Once I'd seen a person's death, I wasn't privy to another glimpse of that person's future unless I saved their lives. But if that were true then how – why did I just...

Roaring in fury, Andrew pried Ryo off him. His fist swung, and Ryo staggered back, bringing up his arms to shield his face as a second and third blow followed.

I was shaking. I couldn't help him. I couldn't watch.

Fifty-

The seconds were ticking down in my head.

Forty-five-

All I could see was Ryo on the floor with a knife in his chest.

Forty-

'Evelyn!'

I looked up.

Knife.

Ryo had Andrew pinned again. He glared at me over his shoulder, arms trembling as he struggled to hold the other man down.. 'Evelyn, get Ai and get the hell out of here!'

I barely heard him.

Thirty-

The cold trickled back. 'Save him,' hissed the Voice.

Ryo was straining. 'Evelyn... hurry up... I can't – '

Twenty-

Andrew headbutted him in the face. He reached into his jacket-

Ten-

My voice broke in panic. 'Ryo, he's got a knife!'

Zero.

Red rain sprayed into the air.

* * *

I... failed.

My knees felt weak. They collapsed beneath me. My eyes watered, vision blurring until I couldn't see. Not that it mattered; I didn't want to see the scene in front of me anyway. Ryo was dead because of me. Because of my meddling. Because I thought that I could save Ai from –

'Andrew...' Ai's soft, wavering voice cut through my brooding. Somewhere in my peripherals, my brain registered her standing up. 'Andrew, what have you done?'

I wanted to look up. I knew that I should - we were both still in danger, but all I could do was stare at my filthy, blood-covered hands. They were shaking.

Murderer.

The reply was stuttered. 'Ai, I... what was I supposed to do? He – I – '

'Your father was an accident, but this... This... Why did you have a knife?'

'Because I – Because we...' He fumbled for words. 'I had to protect us!'

Bullshit.

'He needed it because he's a born murderer,' said a voice. It took a moment for me to realise it was my own.