It was late by the time Luke got back. The streetlamps didn't provide much light anymore since they hadn't been adjusted in nearly a month.
On a practical level, it was good that it was so dark, because he was less likely to be spotted, but he'd never particularly liked dark, open spaces. He always felt as if something was watching him. But he hadn't particularly liked the idea of Adam going back alone. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have taken the risk.
His footsteps seemed just a little too loud in comparison to the silent street. The silence made his ears ring, and his head whirled with it, but wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him.
Too much or too little of anything had a tendency to make him nauseous - particularly sound and light - but he'd had a lot of practice in mimimalising the visible signs of discomfort. He'd learnt to keep a reasonable distance, a neutral, professional facial expression, regardless of how much he internally wanted to scream. It had transpired that the general consensus from his peers was that this was robotic and disconcerting, but it wasn't as if he'd been particularly popular before it.
It had been worse when he was younger. Back then he hadn't known how to cope, so he'd screamed and cried and gone to great lengths to avoid situations where he'd be bombarded with those bad sensations. At the age of eight he'd been quietly taken out of classes and told in several more eloquent words that if he didn't learn to blend in with the others quickly then he'd be quietly relocated into a younger class and given a record of disruptive behavior. Blending with the others had never really taken, so eventually he'd stopped trying. It had been easier to just fall silent and channel his frustration into things he'd thought unequivocally deserved to be met with irritation.
Well, maybe not easier. Safer.
Until fairly recently, he hadn't wanted to be around anybody long enough for them to see beyond it, but Adam made it harder to maintain. Any time he thought about him, it seemed to leave him with a tight throat and a feeling in his chest that he couldn't shake. In some ways it was good. In many other ways it was absolutely terrifying. He could now definitively say that whatever he was feeling definitely wasn't fear. But things were already complicated, and he didn't want to make things worse by acting like a clingy teenager.
He thought he'd managed to skip that stage entirely, but it just felt like he'd delayed the inevitable.
Emotions usually ran high under high-stakes situations, and he couldn't imagine anyone feeling the same way, so it was safer to just drop it. He also thought back to what Quinn had said early on - the things she'd accused him of thinking. It had become increasingly obvious that she wasn't entirely herself back then, but still. The last thing he wanted was to prove her right, especially now that the four of them were starting to find a balance that worked. Not when even he wasn't sure what he was feeling.
He'd never had a friend before. Maybe that was all it was. It wasn't like he'd be able to tell the difference either way. And neither would ever amount to anything useful, so he was wasting his energy on it. He wasn’t the sort of person who anybody cared about. He was the sort of person people respected. He'd figured out how to be that kind of person after years of trial and error.
Shaking his head at nothing in particular, he resolved to wait until things calmed down before acting upon anything. Things like that were better left to other people. People who could distinguish love from a persistent stomach ache.
Head pounding, he had to stop and lean back against a wall for a few seconds. Then, remembering the danger, he took a sharp breath and held it for five paces, then exhaled for another five. Things had been comparatively better recently, since his mind had been on other things. It had been a while since anything got on top of him like this. The lack of sound only made it worse. And it was cold. Icy, making him shakier and less co-ordinated than he'd have liked. He could feel a headache settling into his temples already. Nobody was left to make any noise. It was past curfew and this time it was a given that nobody would break it.
Somehow, he found his way back to his house and didn't bother to change before getting into bed and closing his eyes.
Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the silence, maybe it was just the stress, but he couldn't sleep. After what seemed like hours, he checked his watch. It read, 12:26. Mentally shaking himself, he tried to close his eyes and wait. He wouldn't be sleeping again the next day, so he had to get as much as possible while he still could. He lay still, trying to breathe evenly in and out. His chest was tight, and he was still so cold in a way that he didn't think had anything to do with the weather.
Groaning, he stood up and went to get changed into his pajamas before getting back under the covers. It was icy cold in his room. He suddenly remembered the muddy handprint on his window and got up cautiously to check if it was open. It wasn't, but he knew it wouldn't be difficult to break if necessary. It was unlikely that changing his report would completely protect him from attacks, but at least it wouldn't be a problem for much longer.
He glanced at the clock on his bedroom wall; 12:29.
It was going to be a long night.
He was about to close his eyes when he heard a faint whimpering from the next room. Listening closely to check it wasn't just his imagination, he heard someone mumbling quietly, something incoherent. Standing up, he went to see what was the matter.
He heard the noise just inside Jess's room and waited outside the door, listening.
"Kill them... Kill quickly, slowly, it makes little difference..." Jess mumbled. "Not the time to play. You will have all the time in the world."
Feeling his stomach drop, Luke called out to her, "Everything okay there, Jess?"
"You... I don't..." She continued, and Luke opened the door hesitantly and turned on the light. She was apparently still asleep.
"You have no idea..." She continued, starting to grow restless. Her expression was blank, but she kicked at the blankets like they were ropes tying her down. "I will kill, sir, no theatrics."
Luke shook her gently. "Jess...?" He said quietly, trying not to let panic show in his voice.
"You can rely on me. Let me prove myself. I could do more. I could kill just as easily and efficiently as him..."
He pulled a corner of the blanket away from her, starting to panic. "Are you- "
She opened her pitch-black eyes and her hand closed around his throat.
"I would do it quickly," she said, looking him in the eye.
He tried to remember any self-defence lessons from survival classes, but his mind had gone blank. He just closed his eyes and waited to black out.
She let go of him suddenly with a sharp intake of breath. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air and rubbing at his neck where she'd held him.
She looked down at him with large white eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry... " She babbled, looking at her hands. "Are you okay? Please say you are okay."
"F-Fine, I..." Luke swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He realised that Jessie was staring up at him with wide eyes and managed to catch his breath and straighten up. "See, no damage done."
"I was dreaming... I didn't think I'd wake up like that." She looked down at her hands, terrified. "I shouldn't have woken up like that, that doesn't usually happen."
"What... What were you dreaming about?" Luke asked her, rubbing at his neck.
She sat down on the bed, looking close to catatonic. "I do not want to talk about it please," she told him.
"Is it because I woke you up?" Luke asked her, forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible.
"I don't want to talk about it," she repeated. "It's not dangerous, I'm not dangerous, I'm not..."
"Do you need me to change the subject?"
She looked down at her hands, then back at him, then burst into tears.
He patted her shoulder awkwardly, not quite sure how to react. His throat still felt painful, but he made a calculated decision not to let her know. "You're okay, you're fine," he said gently. "Right?"
"Did I hurt you?" She asked him, breathing heavily from crying.
"No," he lied. "No, it was barely two seconds." If his voice was still hoarse, she didn't seem to notice. She was preoccupied by staring at her hands. Black veins were starting to crawl around her wrists, and when she prodded at them they faded slightly.
"Can you tell me anything at all?" He prompted her, as gently as he could.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I think it was an argument. I-I was... Sitting down... And he wouldn't let me work."
Luke noticed her starting to space out again and quickly broke the silence. "That bitch."
"And I got mad. I was mad, I... I wanted to do it."
"Do what?" He pressed on. "Who's 'he'?"
She shook her head suddenly and sat upright. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. This doesn't usually happen, I promise. I'm a good person..." She inhaled shakily. "Do I have to go now?"
He hesitated, looking down at his hands and snapping his fingers in an attempt to stay calm. "Look, whatever that was, we need to make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll go wake Quinn, we'll talk it over..."
"Don't tell her," Jess said suddenly.
Luke frowned, noticing the way she was clutching the bedframe, like she was afraid that letting go would make her lose control again. "I... I kind of have to. Whatever this is... It could be dangerous."
She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes and he realised what he'd just said. "I mean, dangerous for you. We won't kick you out onto the streets. We just need to know what that was so that neither one of us gets hurt again."
"I know exactly what that was," she said seriously. "It happens every night. I remember more and more things. I can't stop it, and it has it's uses. But I promise, I will always wake up afterwards. Just don't force me awake, please. And don't tell her. I don't want her to be scared again. She's my friend. She can't be scared of me."
Luke looked away, not convinced.
"I'm not dangerous," she said again. "I promise."
"I believe you."
"Our secret?" She pleaded.
He frowned, looking down at her. She was staring up at him with wide, pale eyes. Beneath the scars and bruises, she looked very young. Definitely younger than him, maybe fifteen or so, and even then she was small for her age. She was dangerous, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to say so. He didn't want her to see him as a threat, especially after everything that had happened to her. And besides, what good was his own safety if it didn't extend to everyone else?
"Okay," he found himself saying. "Our secret. But can you at least talk it over with me?"
"Yes..." She said unconvincingly.
"Okay." Luke gestured for her to stand up before fixing the blanket on her bed and gesturing for her to sit back down next to him. "What... What exactly happens to you? When they... You know, when they drain you. Where does your mind go?"
"Somewhere nice." She leaned back against the wall. "Somewhere pretty. They make us nice and pretty too."
"Good..." Luke noticed her smile returning. He'd read that most people went to a happy place when they were comatose. Maybe it was a similar thing for her. "So... Did you like it there?"
She shook her head. "It was a bad place. Very bad."
Luke nodded. "Right."
She pressed her fingertips to her temples as if she was trying in vain to remember something, closing her eyes so tightly her nose wrinkled. "I used to be smart, you know. I used to be like you. Then they fixed me" She opened her eyes again, looking solemn. "They broke my brain and made me happy about it. But I am getting better now, and they could take it away so easily and make me nothing again..."
Luke paused, trying to think of a response. Instead, all he could manage was patting her on the shoulder. "We won't let that happen."
"Okay." She looked down at her scarred hands and prodded a gradually disappearing vein. "Okay, okay, okay."
He noticed the clock on the wall reading that it was getting past one at this point. They all had to be completely awake by tomorrow. None of them could afford to get up late if they wanted to survive. "Try and get some sleep. We'll figure this out in the morning."
He turned to leave, but she called after him.
"Do you hate me now?" She asked him nervously, fidgeting with her bedsheets.
Luke faltered. "Of course not. We... We just have to figure this out, alright? And we're going to."
She nodded, looking more like she was copying him than genuinely agreeing. Her eyes were still wet.
"Do you need a hug?" He said hesitantly. She tilted her head, and he quickly added, "Not from... Not from me. I meant, I could call someone in here to do it..."
She cut him off, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. Her head barely reached his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you -"
He didn't know how to react, and so just slumped over slightly and patted her shoulder, resisting the impulse to push her away. "Right... Okay... Okay." His voice felt constricted. He stuck it out for a few more seconds before speaking again. "Alright. Look, it's late. Try and sleep now, okay?"
"Okay," she agreed, getting back into bed. "Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay..."
He went to leave, but looked back at her as he turned out the light. "I'm right down the hall if you need me," he told her.
She mumbled a response that he didn't hear fully and he went back to his own room, finding it far easier to fall asleep.