I see Catcher making his way toward the cable car and my heart lurches. I wish I could be sure that he wouldn’t reject me—not again. But I know I have to risk it—I have to see him before he leaves. I have to tell him I’m sorry for being so angry on the roof.

I have to fight for him.

Quickly, I pull on my damp coat and run through the flat to the stairs and out into the night. I race toward the platform, watching as Catcher strides to the car that will take him away.

“Catcher!” I scream, not caring that I’m drawing attention to myself. Not caring about anything but seeing him. Touching him. But he’s already in the car, pulling the door shut. I stoop and grab a handful of snow. As hard as I can, I throw it at him and it explodes against the side of the car.

I grab another. “Catcher, wait!” But the Unconsecrated in her little wheel is already lumbering forward, grinding the gears that will propel Catcher away from me. I climb up to the launch platform as the car hovers over the middle of the river.

He stands looking out the broken back window, his hands tucked into his pockets and a small sad smile on his face. My breath hitches. I still have the remnants of a snowball in my hand, a streak of red from my thumb smeared across it where I somehow cut myself. I take a few steps toward the ledge and then I let it go.

It sails through the air and Catcher doesn’t even try to dodge it but instead lets it hit square on his chest. Where his heart is. He doesn’t move or do anything but stare at me. In the darkness his cheekbones look sharper under his skin and dark shadows fan around his eyes.

He looks exhausted and lonely and I ache wishing I could leap across the distance between us. To pull him to me and let his heat devour me.

I hold my arms out wide. “I’m sorry,” I scream at him, but I don’t know if he hears me. Instead the car just continues to take him back to the Dark City, the cables jolting. I can see when it lands, see him stepping out among a sea of Unconsecrated.

“Catcher.” My voice breaks. I want to tell him to wait. To come back. To simply let me touch him and look at him and make sure he’s okay. I need to know that everything’s all right with him and me and this world.

I just need to feel the heat of him.

But I don’t know how to tell him all this. That I’m scared and I don’t know how to be normal. I’m broken, just like him, and I’m not sure I can fix myself.