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Chapter 50

The walk back was agonising. Every few seconds Adam had to fight the urge to turn back to the school and wait there, but he knew deep down that it wouldn't be any safer than walking back alone. It was either very late or very early, but either way it was dark.

Nobody was going to attack him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time before he got shot or stabbed or murdered in some other horrible way.

For the first time, he thought about what it meant to be free of everything at last. Maybe he could finally get heating in his house now that it was getting colder earlier in the year. Maybe he could go to school, get a job, live a normal life. But he didn't know if he deserved it after everything that had happened.

One of the few good things about the past week was that he hadn't had time to think too much about what he'd done. He'd been too busy.

But he was thinking about it now.

He remembered what it had felt like to have his hands around someone's throat, to see someone screaming in pain. He'd found it funny. He'd enjoyed every second. No matter what he did now, he'd never make amends.

Swallowing, he started to mentally recite as many equations as he could, trying not to think. He could almost see the people he'd killed waiting for him in the dark, ready to rip him to shreds. They should be dead now, but they should have been dead before too. It didn't mean anything anymore.

Maybe she was dead too, but he wasn't sure he even had the ability to consider that possibility yet.

Even when he'd found his way back to his house at the edge of town and locked the door behind himself, he couldn't relax. It was too cold to take a shower and he couldn't force himself to go back outside, so he just opened up his toolbox and attempted to work.

He took out a few scraps of metal and turned it over, trying to think of what to do with it, but for once nothing came to mind. Putting it back, he took out a dirty glass bottle and started to wipe it down. Maybe he'd be able to work out something do do with it tomorrow.

His hands shook slightly and he kept almost dropping the bottle, so he gave up on that too and closed the box.

Groaning, he sat down on his bed and picked out one of his textbooks. He hoped that reading it would stop his mind from wandering. It became harder and harder to focus, but he forced himself not to look away. He found himself reading the same line over and over again, before he eventually fell into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

Luke woke up for the umpteenth time that night.

He'd had the same dream every time he'd closed his eyes. It had been exactly the same each time. So vivid he could remember the colour of every room he'd stood in and the pitch of every sound he'd heard. Jess had mentioned something similar, but he hadn't imagined it would be that bad. He felt like he hadn't rested at all.

Every part of his body hurt. There were no scars on him, but ever since he'd got back after the explosion the aching had been constant. It was getting hard to sleep. Not that he particularly wanted to anymore. He'd always wondered why Jess seemed so afraid of her dreams. It all made sense now.

Closing his eyes, he hid his head in his hands and tried to remember everything that had happened in his nightmare.

It had been loud, and bright, and overwhelming, and all-encompassing. Then just as quickly, it'd stopped, and he'd felt alright. Better than he usually did. All the guilt and uncertainty that had been stuck in his mind since before he could remember was gone. It was like the ache and the drone that always settled into his temples had in a moment switched off, and for the first time in his life, he felt like what he was doing was right. He couldn't do anything wrong, because he couldn't do anything, and that notion felt freeing.

He'd prepared to withstand any pain they gave him, but he'd buckled under the relief immediately.

He remembered recognising Adam's voice and pressing his ear against the wall, listening to him attempting to disguise his soft tone, not quite successfully. He'd waited until the last possible second, to ensure that he would be desperate enough to believe any lie he told him. Then he'd steered him into an enclosed space he couldn't escape easily, and told him... Things.

That was the worst part of the dream.

He hadn't lied, but that didn't matter. Every time he thought of the words, he felt sick. He'd wanted to say them so badly for so long, and now it felt like they'd been forced out and tainted forever. He'd used it to distract him, then attack him. It was hard to remember his expression. Maybe he'd felt the same. Maybe he hadn't. The plan had worked either way.

It had been so stupidly easy for them to take everything he cared about, every value he had, and pervert them into something he had no attachment to. He swore he'd heard it mentioned just how quickly he succumbed to it. He'd just done exactly as he was told to, just like always. Unquestioning and delighting in the certainty of it all. Dangerous in the safety that he'd been provided with.

That wasn't the sort of person he wanted to be anymore.

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and frowned. He was acting exactly like the kind of people he used to despise. He should be thinking tactically about how to recover from the past few months and get back on track, not sitting in a dark room thinking about relationships like a lovesick teenager.

Then again, as he thought more about it, being a lovesick teenager might very well be better than the alternatives.

Struggling to his feet, he stood up, made his bed, and got changed into his clothes. He smoothed out every crease in his blanket and folded his pajamas as neatly as he could, trying to extend the routine as long as possible.

His house was suddenly feeling very big. Adam had told him he was willing to go back to his own home, Jess had said she would see about getting a flat to stay with with along with the other empties until they got a permanent home, and Quinn still hadn't shown up when he'd left. He wondered if she'd gone straight home too, or if she'd gone to try to find the others. He hadn't heard a word from her, but that wasn't surprising now that she had no reason to. It'd only been a few hours. She could still be anywhere.

Going down to the kitchen, he made himself a glass of water. It woke him up and cleared his head.

Checking the time, he saw it was nearly six. It'd be light out soon. He could check up on the others soon, as nothing more than a concerned acquaintance. Hopefully he'd have more news on Quinn then. He just had to wait a few more hours.

Groaning, he sat down and started to make breakfast, hoping the hours would pass quickly.