Текст книги "The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer"

Автор книги: Michelle Hodkin

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

52

I MUST SAY, I THINK I RATHER LIKE THIS SLEEPING arrangement.”

I didn’t think I would ever tire of hearing Noah’s voice in the nether darkness of my bedroom. The weight of him in my bed was unfamiliar and thrilling. He leaned against two of my pillows and had me curled into his side, sharing my blanket. My head rested on his shoulder, my cheek on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Mine was insane. I think I knew that it wasn’t safe for him here. With me. But I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

“How did you work this out, anyway?” I still hadn’t left my room or seen my mother since she’d been in to check on me earlier that afternoon, before Noah’s confession. Before my confession. I wondered how we were getting away with this.

“Well, technically, I’m sleeping in Daniel’s room right now.”

“Right now?”

“As we speak,” Noah said, curving his arm around my back. It rested just below the hem of my shirt. “Your mother didn’t want me driving home so late.”

“And tomorrow?”

“That’s a good question.”

I leaned up to see his face. It was thoughtful, serious, as he stared at my ceiling. “Whether you’ll be here tomorrow?” I kept my voice even. I knew by now that Noah didn’t play games. That if he was going to leave, he would leave, and be honest about it. But I hoped that wasn’t what he was going to say.

He smiled softly. “What happens to us tomorrow. Now that we know we’re not insane.”

It was the ultimate question, one that haunted me since last week, since I remembered. What was next? Was I supposed to do something with it? Try to ignore it? Try to stop it? Did I even have a choice? It was too much to deal with. My heart beat wildly in my chest.

“What are you thinking?” Noah shifted on to his side and tightened his grip on my back, pressing me into him, aligning us perfectly.

“What?” I whispered as my thoughts dissolved.

Noah shifted closer and tilted his head as if he was going to whisper something to me. His nose skimmed my jaw instead, until his lips found the hollow beneath my ear.

“Your heart started racing,” he said, tracing the line of my neck to my collarbone with his lips.

“I don’t remember,” I said, consumed now with the feel of Noah’s hand through the thin fabric of my pants. He slid his hand up behind my knee. My thigh. He tilted his face up to look at me, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Mara, if you’re tired, I can hear it. If you’re hurt, I can feel it. And if you lie, I will know it.”

I closed my eyes, just now beginning to fully realize what Noah’s ability meant. Every reaction I had—every reaction I had to him—he would know. And not just mine– everyone’s.

“I love not having to hide it from you,” Noah said, hooking his finger under the collar of my shirt. He pulled the fabric to the side and kissed the bare skin of my shoulder.

I pushed him back slightly so I could see his face. “How do you deal with it?”

He looked confused.

“Hearing and feeling everyone’s physical reactions around you constantly. Don’t you go crazy?”

If he didn’t, I certainly would, knowing that as long as I was near him, I had no secrets.

Noah’s eyebrows drew together. “It just becomes background noise, mostly. Until I focus on one person in particular.” His finger grazed my knee, and he drew it up the side of my leg, over my hip, and my pulse raced in response.

I smiled. “Stop it,” I said, and pushed his hand away. He grinned broadly. “You were saying?”

“I can hear everything—everyone—but I can’t feel them. Only the four I told you about, and only when they—you– were injured. You were the first one I met, actually, then Joseph. I saw you, where you were, and felt a reflection, I think, of what you both were feeling.”

“But there are a lot of injured people out there.” I stared at him. “Why us?

“I don’t know.”

“What are we going to do?”

A smile turned up the corner of Noah’s mouth as he traced mine with his thumb. “I can think of a few things.”

I grinned. “That won’t help me,” I said. And as I said it, a wave of déjà vu rolled through me. I saw myself clenching a glass bottle in a dusty shop in Little Havana.

“I’m confused,” I said to Mr. Lukumi. “I need help.”

“That won’t help you,” he said, looking at my fist.

But he had helped me remember then.

Maybe he could help me now.

I was on my feet in an instant. “We have to go back to the botanica,” I said, darting to my dresser.

Noah gave me a sideways glance. “It’s well after midnight. There won’t be anyone there now.” His eyes studied mine. “And anyway, are you even sure you want to go back? That priest wasn’t particularly pleasant the first time around.”

I remembered Mr. Lukumi’s face, the way he seemed to know me, and grew frantic.

“Noah,” I said, rounding on him. “He knows. That man– the priest—he knows about me. He knows. That’s why what he did worked.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “But you said it didn’t work.”

“I was wrong.” My voice sounded strange, and the quiet room swallowed my words. “We have to go back there.” Gooseflesh pebbled my arms.

Noah came over to where I stood, pulled me close, and stroked my hair until my breathing slowed, watching my eyes as I calmed down. My arms hung limp at my sides.

“Isn’t it possible that you would have remembered that night anyway?” he asked quietly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you have a better idea, let’s hear it.”

Noah took my hand and laced his fingers in mine. “All right,” he said, as he led me back to bed. “You win.”

But it felt, somehow, like I had already lost.

53

THE NEXT MORNING, I WOKE UP NEXT TO Noah.

With my arm draped over his waist, I felt his ribs move under the thin fabric of his T-shirt as he breathed. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this– the first time I could study him unhindered. The swell of his biceps under his sleeve. The few curls of hair that peeked out from the ripped collar of his abused shirt. The necklace he always wore had slipped out during the night. I looked closely at it for the first time; the pendant was just a slim line of silver– half of it hammered into the shape of a feather, the other half a dagger. It was interesting and beautiful, just like him.

My eyes continued to wander over the inhumanly perfect boy in my bed. One of his hands was clenched in a fist next to his face. A sliver of soft light illuminated the strands of his dark, tousled hair, making them glow gold. I breathed him in, the scent of his skin mingling with my shampoo.

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to kiss the small constellation of freckles on his neck, hiding next to his hairline. To feel the sting of his rough jaw under my lips, the petal-soft skin of his eyelids under my fingertips. Then Noah let out a soft sigh.

I was drunk with happiness, intoxicated by him. I felt a stab of pity for Anna and for all the girls who may or may not have come before, and what they lost. And that birthed the follow-up thought of just how much it would hurt me to lose him, too. His presence blunted the edges of my madness, and it was almost enough to make me forget what I’d done.

Almost.

I slid my hand down to Noah’s and squeezed it. “Good morning,” I whispered.

He stirred. “Mmmm,” he murmured, then half-smiled with his eyes closed. “It is.”

“We have to go,” I said, wishing we didn’t, “before my mother finds you in here.”

Noah rolled over and leaned on his forearms above me, not touching for one second, two, three. My heart raced, Noah smiled, then slipped out of my bed and out of my room. We met up in the kitchen, once I was dressed and brushed and generally presentable. Sandwiched between Daniel and Joseph, Noah grinned at me over a cup of coffee.

“Mara!” My mother’s eyes went wide when she saw me standing, and dressed, in the kitchen. She quickly composed herself. “Can I get you anything?”

Noah gave me a surreptitious nod of his head.

“Um, sure,” I said. “How about” —my eyes scanned the kitchen counter– “a bagel?”

My mother grinned and took one from the plate, popping it into the toaster. I sat down at the table across from the three boys. Everyone seemed to be pretending I hadn’t sequestered myself in my bedroom for the past few days, and that was fine with me.

“So, school today?” my mother asked.

Noah nodded. “I thought I’d drive Mara,” he said to Daniel. “If that’s all right.”

My eyebrows knit together, but Noah shot me a look. Under the table, his hand found mine. I stayed quiet.

Daniel stood and smiled, walking over to the sink with his bowl. “Fine with me. This way, I won’t be late.”

I rolled my eyes. My mother slid a plate over to me, and I ate quietly next to her and Joseph and Noah, who were talking about going to the zoo this weekend. Their bright moods were palpable in the kitchen that morning, and I felt love and guilt swell in my chest. The love was obvious. The guilt was for what I’d put them through. What I might still put them through, if I didn’t figure out my problem. But I pushed that thought away, kissed my mother on the cheek, and made my way to the front door.

“Ready?” Noah asked.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t.

“Where are we really going?” I asked as Noah drove, knowing full well that it couldn’t be school. It wasn’t safe there for me. Because I wasn’t safe around anyone else.

“1821 Calle Ocho,” Noah said. “You wanted to go back to the botanica, didn’t you?”

“Daniel’s going to notice we’re not in school.”

Noah shrugged. “I’ll tell him you needed a day off. He won’t say anything.”

I hoped Noah was right.

Little Havana had somehow become our familiar haunt, but nothing about it was familiar today. Crowds of people surged through the streets, waving flags in time to the drum-beat of the music blaring from an unidentified source. Calle Ocho was closed to traffic, so we had to walk.

“What is this?”

Noah’s sunglasses were on, and he scanned the colorfully dressed multitudes. “A festival,” he said.

I glared at him.

“Come on, we’ll try to push through.”

We did try, but it was slow going. The sun beat down on us as we cut a precarious path through the people. Mothers holding the hands of children with painted faces, men shouting over the music to one another. The sidewalks were crowded with tables, so customers could watch the festivities as they ate. A group of guys leaned against the wall of the cigar shop, smoking and laughing, and the domino park was filled with onlookers. I scanned the storefronts for the odd assortment of electronics and Santeria statutes in the window but didn’t see it.

“Stop,” Noah called out over the music. He was four or five feet behind me.

“What?” I walked back to where he stood, and on the way, bumped into someone, hard. Someone in a navy baseball cap. I froze.

He turned around and looked up from under the brim. “Perdon,” he said, before walking away.

I took a deep breath. Just a man in a hat. I was too jumpy. I made my way over to where Noah stood.

Noah took off his sunglasses as he faced the storefront. His face was expressionless, completely impassive. “Look at the address.”

My eyes roamed over the stenciled numbers above the glass door of the toy store. “1823,” I said, then took a few steps in the other direction, to the next one. My voice caught in my throat as I read the address. “1819.” Where was 1821?

Noah’s face was stone, but his eyes betrayed him. He was shaken.

“Maybe it’s on the other side of the street,” I said, not believing it myself. Noah said nothing. My eyes roamed the length of the building, inspecting it. I made my way back to the toy store and pressed my nose up to the cloudy glass, peering in. Large stuffed animals sat in a duck-duck-goose arrangement on the floor, and marionette puppets were frozen mid-dance in the window, congregating around a ventriloquist dummy. I stepped back. The shop had the same narrow shape as the botanica, but then, so did the stores on either side of it.

“Maybe we should ask someone,” I said, growing desperate. My heart raced as my eyes scanned the shops, looking for anyone to ask.

Noah stood facing the storefront. “I don’t think it would matter,” he said, his voice hollow. “I think we’re on our own.”

54

MY SENSE OF DREAD INCREASED EXPONENTIALLY as we drove down the dark, palm-tree lined driveway to the zoo.

“This is a bad idea,” I said to Noah. We had talked about it on the ride back from Little Havana, after I called my mother and told her we were going to hang out at Noah’s after school—which we didn’t go to—for a change of scenery. Since there was no way to track down Mr. Lukumi, if that was even his real name, and no one else we could go to for help unless we both wanted to be committed, we had to figure out what to do next. I was, of course, the top priority; I had to figure out what prompted my reactions if I was going to have any hope at all of learning to control them. We agreed that this was the best way, the easiest way to experiment. But I was still afraid.

“Just trust me. I’m right about this.”

“Pride goes before the fall,” I said, a small smile on my lips. Then, “Why can’t we test you first, again?”

“I want to see if I can counteract you. I think that’s important. Maybe it’s why we found each other. You know?”

“Not really,” I said to the window. My hair clung in sweaty tendrils to the back of my neck. I twisted it into a knot to get it off my skin.

“Now you’re just being contrary.”

“Says the person with the useful … thing.” It felt weird to name it, name what we could do. Inappropriate. It didn’t do the reality justice.

“I think there’s more you can do, Mara.”

“Maybe,” I said, but doubting it. “I wish I had your thing, though.”

“I wish you did, too.” Then after a pause, “Healing’s for girls.”

“You’re awful,” I said, and shook my head. An obnoxious grin curved Noah’s mouth. “It’s not funny,” I said, but smiled anyway. I was still anxious, but it was incredible how much better I felt with Noah there, with him knowing. Like I could deal with this. Like we could deal with it together.

Noah parked at the curb of the zoo. I didn’t know how he managed to get us after-hours access, and didn’t ask. An outcropping of sculpted rocks greeted us as we walked in, towering over a manufactured pond. Sleeping pelicans dotted the water, their heads tucked under wings. On the opposite side, flamingoes, pale pink in the halogen auxiliary lights, stood in clumps on the opposite side of the walk. The birds were silent sentries, failing to notice or comment on our presence.

We wound deeper into the park, hand in hand as a hot breeze ruffled the foliage and our hair. Past the gazelles and antelopes, which stirred as we approached. Hooves stamped the ground, and a low nickering swept through the herd. We increased our pace.

Something rustled in the branches above us but I couldn’t see anything in the dark. I read the exhibit sign: white gibbons to the right, chimpanzees to the left. As soon as I finished reading, a shrill scream pierced the air and something crashed through the brush toward us. My feet and my heart froze.

The chimpanzee stopped short right at the moat. And not one of the cute, tan-faced charmers usually conscripted into the entertainment industry; this one was enormous. It sat, tense and coiled at the precipice. It stared at me with human eyes that followed us as we started walking again. The hair stood up on the back of my neck.

Noah turned into a small niche and withdrew a set of keys from his pocket as we approached a small structure disguised by large plants and trees. The door read employees only.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a work room. They’re preparing for an exhibit on insects of the world or something,” Noah said as he opened the door.

I hated the idea of killing anything, but at least bugs reproduced like—well, like roaches—and no one would miss a few.

“How’d you work this out?” I asked, looking behind us. My skin prickled. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

“My mother’s done some volunteer work here. And gives them an obscene amount of money.”

Noah flipped on the lights, illuminating the long metal table in the center, and closed the door behind us. Metal shelves lined the walls, holding bins and plastic tubs. Noah walked around, his eyes scanning their small labels. I was rooted to the doorway, and couldn’t read them from where I stood.

Finally, Noah held up a translucent plastic box. My eyes narrowed at him.

“What are those?”

“Leeches,” he said casually. He avoided my stare.

A wave of disgust rolled through me. “No. No way.”

“You have to.”

I shuddered. “Pick something else,” I said, and rushed to the far side of the room. “Here.” I pointed at an opaque tub with a label I couldn’t pronounce. “Somethingsomething scorpions.”

“Those are poisonous,” Noah said, studying my face.

“Even better.”

“They’re also endangered.”

“Fine,” I said, my voice and legs beginning to tremble as I walked over to a transparent box and pointed. “The big-ass spider.”

Noah walked over and read the label, still holding the box of leeches close. Way too close. I backed away. “Also poisonous,” Noah said evenly.

“Then that will be plenty of incentive.”

“It could bite before you kill it.”

My heart wanted to escape from my throat. “A perfect opportunity to practice your healing,” I choked out.

Noah shook his head. “I’m not going to experiment with your life. No.”

“Then pick something else,” I said, growing breathless with terror. “Not the leeches.”

Noah rubbed his forehead. “They’re harmless, Mara.”

“I don’t care!” I heard the insects in the room beat their chitinous wings against their plastic prisons. I began to lose it and felt myself sway on my feet.

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll take it off immediately,” Noah said. “It won’t hurt you.”

“No. I’m serious, Noah,” I said. “I can’t do it. They burrow under skin and suck blood. Oh my God. Oh my God.” I wrapped my arms around my body to stop it from shaking.

“It will be over quickly, I promise,” he said. “You won’t feel anything.” He reached his hand into the tank.

“No.” I could only croak this in a hoarse whisper. I couldn’t breathe. Multicolored spots appeared behind my eyelids that I couldn’t blink away.

Noah scooped up a leech in his hand and I felt myself sink. Then …

Nothing.

“Mara.”

My eyes fluttered open.

“It’s dead. Unbelievable,” he said. “You did it.”

Noah walked over with his palm open to show me, but I recoiled, scrambled up against the door. He looked at me with an unreadable expression, then went to discard the dead leech. When he lifted the bin to replace it back on the shelf, he stopped.

“My God,” he said.

“What?” My voice was still nothing but a shaky whisper.

“They’re all dead.”

“The leeches?”

Noah put the bin back on the shelf with an unsteady hand. He walked among the rows of insects, eyes scanning the transparent tubs and opening the others to inspect them.

When he reached the spot he started in, he stared at the wall.

“Everything,” he said. “Everything’s dead.”

55

THE STENCH OF ROT FILLED MY NOSTRILS, AND a voice buzzed in my ear.

“Biologists are reporting that the fish kill in Everglades City was most likely due to oxygen depletion in the water.”

Images of bloated, belly-up alligators appeared in my dark consciousness.

“A startling number of alligator corpses are thought to be the culprit.”

I had done that. Just like I’d done this.

Noah surveyed the destruction with empty eyes. He couldn’t look at me. I couldn’t blame him. I wrestled with the doorknob and bolted into the darkness. An assault of screeches and howls and barks met my ears. At least the slaughter was limited.

I was disgusted by myself. And when Noah followed me outside, I saw that he was too.

He avoided my eyes and said nothing. The sight of his hands curled into fists, of his revulsion, stung my heart and made me cry. Pathetic. But once I started, I couldn’t stop and didn’t really want to. The sobs scorched my throat, but it was a good kind of pain. Deserved.

Noah was still silent. Only when I dropped to the ground, unable to stand for a second longer, did he move. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, but my legs trembled. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Noah wrapped his arms around me but as soon as he did, I just wanted them off. I wanted to run.

I struggled against his grip, my thin shoulder blades digging into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Please,” I choked.

He loosened his grip by a fraction. “Only if you promise not to run.”

I was out of control, and Noah knew it. Afraid I’d do even more damage, he had to make sure I didn’t ruin anything else.

“I promise,” I whispered.

He turned me to face him, then set me free. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I focused on the pattern of his plaid shirt, then at the ground.

“Let’s go.”

We walked wordlessly amid the snarls and shrieks. The animals were all awake, now; the antelope had herded together at the edge of their exhibit, stamping and shifting in fear. The birds flapped, frantic, and one pelican dove straight into an out-cropping of rock as we approached it. It fell to the water and emerged, dragging its broken, limp wing beside it. I wanted to die.

The second we reached Noah’s car, I lunged for the handle. It was locked.

“Open it,” I said, still not meeting his gaze.

“Mara—”

“Open it.”

“Look at me first.”

“I can’t handle that right now,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just open the door.”

He did. I folded myself into the passenger seat.

“Take me home, please.”

“Mara—”

“Please!”

He started the car and we drove in silence. I stared at my lap the whole way but as we slowed down, I finally looked out the window. The scenery was familiar, but wrong. When we passed the gated entrance to his house, I shot him a steely glare.

“What are we doing here?”

He didn’t answer, and I understood. Since my confession, Noah had only been humoring me. He said he believed me, and maybe he did really believe that there was something off, something wrong with me. But he didn’t get it. He thought I’d been dreaming when I kissed him and he almost died. That Rachel, Claire, and Jude were killed when an old, decrepit building collapsed on them. That Mabel’s owner could have fallen and cracked his skull open, Ms. Morales could have died of shock, and the whole thing might just add up to a series of terrible coincidences.

But he couldn’t think that now. Not after tonight, after what I’d just done. That could not be explained away. That was real. And now, Noah was ending it, and I was glad.

I would figure out the next step by myself.

He parked the car in the garage and opened the passenger door. I didn’t move.

“Mara, get out of the car.”

“Can you do it here? I want to go home.”

I needed to think, now that I was completely and utterly alone in this. I couldn’t live this way, and I needed to make a plan.

“Just—please.”

I got out of his car but hesitated by the door. The dogs sensed something wrong with me the last time I was here, and they were right. I didn’t want to be anywhere near them.

“What about Mabel and Ruby?”

“They’re crated. On the other side of the house.”

I exhaled and followed behind Noah as he entered a corridor and climbed a narrow staircase. He reached to take my hand but I flinched at his touch. Feeling him would only make this harder for me. Noah kicked the door open and I found myself in his room. He turned to face me. His expression was quietly furious. “I’m sorry,” he said.

This was it. I had lost him, but was surprised to find that instead of anguish, or misery, I just felt numb.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

My voice was cold, removed when I spoke. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Just look at me, Mara.”

I raised my eyes to his. They were savage. I would have been afraid if I didn’t know better. The scariest thing in the room was me.

“I’m so, infinitely, forever sorry,” he said. His voice was empty, and my chest constricted. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this. I didn’t blame him. I shook my head.

“No, don’t shake your head,” he said. “I fucked up. Egregiously.”

The word escaped from my throat before I could stop it. “What?”

“I never should have let it get that far.”

My expression morphed into shock. “Noah, you didn’t do anything.”

“Are you joking? I tortured you. I tortured you.” There was a quiet rage in his voice. His muscles were tense and coiled; he looked like he wanted to smash something. I knew the feeling.

“You did what had to be done.”

His voice was laced with contempt. “I didn’t believe you.”

I had known that.

“Just tell me this,” I said. “Were you lying about what you could do?”

“No.”

“So you elected not to do anything?”

Noah’s expression was hard. “It was too fast. The—sound– or whatever, was different from the last time with Morales.”

“Morales?” I said dully. “You heard that?”

“I heard—something. You. You sounded wrong. But I didn’t know why or what it was or what it meant. And with Anna and Aiden, when Jamie got expelled, you were off, too, but I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t understand it; only that he threatened you, and I wanted to break him for it. This time, tonight, wasn’t the same, and I don’t think the alligators were either.”

My mouth went dry as Noah confirmed what I’d done. He ran both of his hands over his face and back through his hair.

“There was too much going on—too much noise of everything else in the marsh. I didn’t know if they’d just disappeared, but I—I had a feeling something had happened.” He paused, and his face went still. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly.

I felt sick listening to him—my throat closed and I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out of there. I made for Noah’s door.

“Don’t,” Noah said, crossing the room. He reached for me but I shied away. He took my hand anyway and walked me over to his bed. I acquiesced, knowing that this would be our last conversation. And as much as that hurt me, even though I knew it was necessary, I found myself unable to break away just yet. So we sat side-by-side, but I pulled my hand from his. Noah turned away.

“I thought—I thought maybe you were just seeing what was about to happen; that you were seeing things sort of like me. I thought you just felt guilty about Rachel.”

Just what my mother would say.

“I didn’t get it, and I pushed you, and then I pushed you further.”

He looked at me from underneath those lashes and his stare pierced the cavity where my heart used to be. He was furious with himself, not me. It was so wrong, so backward.

“It wasn’t your fault, Noah.” He started to speak, but I placed my fingers over his beautiful, perfect mouth, aching at the contact. “This was your first time seeing it. But it wasn’t my first time doing it. If I don’t—” I caught myself before I told him what I thought I had to do. What I did have to do. “I can’t handle seeing the look on your face the next time it happens, okay?”

Noah glared at me. “It was because of me, Mara, because of what I made you do.

“You didn’t make me kill every living thing in that room. I did that all by myself.”

“Not everything in that room.”

“What?”

“You didn’t kill everything in that room.”

“With the exception of us, I did.”

Noah laughed without amusement. “That’s it. You could have killed me. I tormented you, and you could have ended it by ending me. But you didn’t,” he said, and brushed my hair away from my face.

“You’re stronger than you know.”

His hand lingered on my cheek and I closed my eyes in anguish.

“I know we don’t know how or why this is happening to you—to us,” he said. “But we will figure it out.”

I opened my eyes and stared at him. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“I fucking know it’s not my responsibility. I want to help you.”

I inhaled sharply. “What about tomorrow? Someone’s going to wonder what killed hundreds of endangered species.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll—”

“Fix it? You’ll fix it, Noah?”

As I spoke the words, I knew that that was exactly what he thought. That despite all rationality, he did think he could fix me, like he could fix everything else.

“Is that how you see this working? I’ll screw up and you’ll take care of it, right?” I was just another problem that could be solved if only we threw enough time or practice or money at it. At me. And when the experiment failed—when I failed—and people died, Noah would blame himself, hate himself for not being able to stop it. For not being able to stop me. I wouldn’t do that to him. So I said the only thing I could.

“I don’t want your help. I don’t want you.” The words felt mutinous on my tongue. And they hit him like a slap in the face.

“You’re lying,” Noah said, his voice low and quiet.

Mine was cold and distant. “I think it would be better if I didn’t see you again.” I didn’t know where the strength to say such a thing came from, but I was grateful for it.

“Why are you doing this?” Noah said, piercing me with an icy stare.

I began to lose my composure. “You’re really asking me that question? I murdered five people.”

“By accident.”

“I wanted it.”

“God, Mara. You think you’re the only person to want bad things to happen to bad people?”

“No, but I am the only person who gets what she wants,” I said. “And Rachel, by the way, wasn’t a bad person. I loved her, and she did nothing to me, and she’s dead anyway and it’s my fault.”

“Maybe.”

I whipped around. “What? What did you just say?”

“You still don’t know if the asylum was an accident.”

“Are we back there again? Really?”

“Listen to me. Even if it wasn’t—”

“It wasn’t,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Even if it wasn’t an accident,” Noah continued, “I can warn you the next time you get close.”

My voice went low. “Just like you warned me before I killed Morales.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. I didn’t know what was happening then. I do now. I’ll warn you the next time it happens, and you’ll stop.”

“You mean, you’ll make me stop.”

“No. It’s your choice. It’s always your choice. But maybe if you lose your focus, I can help bring you back.”

“And what if something happens and you’re not there?” I asked.

“I’ll be there.”

“But what if you’re not?”

“Then it would be my fault.”

“Exactly.”

His expression went carefully blank.

“I want a boyfriend, not a babysitter, Noah. But let’s say I agree to this plan, and you’re there but can’t stop me. You’ll blame yourself. You want that on my conscience too? Stop being so selfish.”