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Chapter 34

Closing his eyes, he tried to calm down. He didn't know how true his dream had been, at least he had that to cling to.

But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

One-four-two. That was his name. Or, at least, the name he'd been given. Adam remembered how the boy had tried and failed to remember his real name, and he couldn't stop thinking about the way his body had looked, sprawled across the floor, eyes vacant, mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

He'd tried to help him, but none of it had been real. He thought he was checking his pulse and calling for help, when in reality he'd been strangling him. He hoped he'd only strangled him. He didn't even remember what he'd done. But he remembered why. He'd found it funny.

"Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine...S-Six-five-three-five-e-eight-nine-seven..." He took another deep breath. He tried to block out the bad thoughts by visualising the numbers in his head, just like he'd always done, but it wasn't working. He could still see the corpse in the back of his mind. Nobody else had seen it the way he had. If they knew, they'd leave him. Maybe he deserved to be left behind. He should have just stayed out of the way. Everything that had happened had happened because he couldn't just stay out of the way. "four-six..."

He remembered the way the blood had felt on his hands. He could still feel it, even though he'd washed it off days ago. He didn't think he'd ever stop feeling it - under his nails, between his fingers, bleeding through his skin and becoming a part of him.

"Two-six-four-three-three-eight." He finished in one breath, trying to clear his mind. It made him dizzy.

"Hey." Quinn tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped, not realising she'd been behind him. "Are you okay?"

"You can't just creep up on me like that!" He snapped. "How-How did you get into my house?"

"Spare key, remember?" She held it up. "Besides, you said you'd get here early today and help us set up so we don't, you know, die..."

He swallowed and looked up. "What time is it?"

"It's like eight o'clock. The streets are still pretty quiet, I just wanted to..."

"What?" He leaned over his desk and started to pile up his textbooks. "Oh my god, I am-I am so sorry, I-I swear..."

"It's fine, I woke up like half an hour ago anyway. It's no big deal," she reassured him, looking alarmed by his outburst.

"Listen, if I..." He ran his hands through his hair and steadied himself. "I said I'd be there for six and, and if we only have forty-eight hours left to live, and I miss two of them to lie unconscious and hallucinate, th-then that's an issue. It's a big issue." He bundled the books together into a worn brown rucksack and slung it over his shoulder, stooping slightly from the weight.

"Will you relax?" Quinn said. "I'll carry some of those."

"I'm fine," he replied through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll be right there."

He bent over the desk to take some books out of his bag and wiped his eyes quickly, hoping she wasn't looking. He didn't trust her not to shoot him anyway, no matter what she'd told him. It would be the most sensible move to make.

He picked up the bag again and his knees buckled under the weight, but he tried not to show it. "Actually, can you... Can you carry these?" He asked her defeatedly, putting a pile of textbooks back on the desk.

"Sure," she replied, picking them up. "We'd better get going. They'll be out soon."

He nodded and tried to stand upright. The books still weighed him down. He wasn't sure if it was just the weight, but every bone in his body seemed to have liquidised.