“Oh, shut up,” I said out loud to myself. Mitch stopped talking. My words echoed back to me in the metal hollow as the door slid shut and all the light went away.

CHAPTER 26

REUNION

French

THE NEXT MORNING, I WAS WOKEN BEFORE SUNUP. OR at least I would have been if I had been capable of sleep. Instead, I had sat in my bed all night and willed my heart to keep working. It felt fragile and frantic, like it was pulled so tight that any palpitation bigger than a blip would tear the tension and it would all come unzipped. I would be left with shreds of muscle, like old wallpaper pulled to the wainscoting. I saw her eyes—Sunny’s eyes—in every speck that wandered across my vision, in every corner of the dark room. Worse than being judgmental, they were sweet, steady, familiar. I had already decided that it would never happen again, could never happen again. If it came down to hauling someone else in or giving up my life, I would lay mine down. There was no point in surviving if I had to hunt again. There would be nothing of me left to save.

There was only one other time I had felt this rotten—that was really the only word for it. It wasn’t just the feeling of loss or frustration or grief. No, those feelings came when you still had a self for them to bounce off. I felt like the part that I knew to be me was bruised, caving in, gone rotten. I’d felt this way—the day I’d looked a man in his eye and shot him.

It was months ago now, after the traitors (like you, my brain reminded me) had taken Riri and one had ended up falling off a cliff with her still in his arms while trying to escape. When I got there, having caught up to them too late, I ran back to the camp, where the second man was tied up, defenseless, like a dog on a lead. I raised the rifle, hands steadier than ever, and took a full breath before pulling the trigger. In that moment, it felt right—I felt right. But later, that breath would haunt me. Something had changed. I had cut off part of myself that would never grow back. That was how I felt now, only this time it was deeper. Once again, I’d had a choice. But this time, I had condemned a kid, one of us, to death just as certain as I’d sent the traitor off with a bullet. And that had been quicker.

There were footsteps in the hall, turning the corner, then in front of my door. Two sharp raps with the knuckles.

“Dusome. Get presentable.”

Presentable meant clothed, maybe bathed, and silent. I was still dressed in my grey scrubs, so that was fine. I rinsed my mouth out with water and a squeeze of toothpaste. And I was totally on board with the silent part. I closed the door behind me and followed the Watchman along the hallways, across the common room (empty, thank god) and up the stairs.