Revolution

- 20 -

With shaking fingers, I reach up towards the base of my skull. They come back warm and scarlet. There's no pain, not anymore, and I realize the blood isn't mine. It drips onto the wood next to me. It's sickening, and I flick my fingers to fling the droplets off. They disappear into the blurred edges of my vision.

Wait. I need it.

I heave my body weight to the left, keeping pressure off my bruised ribs when I roll over. I nearly pitch over, right into the guard, but I manage to support myself on a single scratched elbow. The Band-Aids on my arms are singed at the corners, fluttering in the cool breeze. I watch them for a moment, wondering how it got to this.

No. I need it.

I avoid looking the guard in the eyes when I reach over. Carefully, I press a palm to his temple. I've never had to do this before, and I'm terrified of the consequences. I can feel it lurking in his body, a mute power that's only ever spoken to me. Something alien and unnatural and not meant for mortal bodies. I suppose that's all I am now. Mortal. It's horrible. I press my palm harder against his head, shifting his slick hair out of the way. I need what he has.

I blink at the underwhelming feeling that washes over me. The power hunkering down inside this shell of a human slides from his mind to mine, entirely unlike the fire I had felt only minutes ago. The change is indescribable. All at once, I become a no one to a someone, a special breed, an elite. I tilt my head back, recognizing the power that hums through every one of my nerves. It's intoxicating. The air around me, stagnant and still, feels cold with untapped energy, presences both small and large but not quite large enough to be recognizable.

My head snaps back into place and my eyes flash open. Bioelectrical signals float through the air, unseen but practically malleable with my newly regained ability, but there's something missing here. It's too quiet. There's not enough energy.

Unsteadily, I push myself to an awkward sitting position. My back hurts when I do it. Everything hurts. I have to keep going.

For a moment, I think I'm on death's door, my feet splayed over the threshold. I feel like it, too. But I'm not. This doorway isn't death's. My boots are limp among the splinters, and I realize someone broke into hell looking for a prize. From the bodies slumped inside, I can't tell if they won.

There's a small flicker of bioelectricity. I want to extinguish it, snuff it out, and it would be gone in a wisp as quickly as it came, but something holds me back. Maybe it's the twinge of pain in my lungs, but I wait.

It comes back, a spark in the darkness that surrounds me. It feels familiar.

There's a quiet choking noise from inside the building and one of the bodies shifts. Carefully, they prop a knee under them and rock to sitting before falling backward and catching themselves with their hands. They stare at the ceiling for a moment, breathing heavy, before their eyes slide down and land on me.

"Paige?" They murmur.

My identity rushes back to me in a painful barrage of images. Guards and guns and syringes and red braids and broken glass and a dart lying in the grass and two faces and more guns and soft blankets and bandages. I want to hold my head in my hands until it passes. Eventually, it does, and I'm left shuddering on the porch with splinters in my palms.

I wince at the raw feeling in my throat when I speak. "What did I do?"

Brandon stares around for a moment at the carnage and destruction. "I don't know," he whispers. Then his eyes land on the bodies and he yelps, shuffling as best he can away from the white-clad guard slumped at his feet. I just wait and watch, like I always do. Everything here feels wrong.

"Your mom was right," I murmur.

"What?"

Carefully, I move my legs under me and struggle to stand, propping my hand on the splitting door frame. "Your mom," I pant. "Janice. She said they were gonna come looking for me, and she was right. And your family suffered for it."

Brandon runs his fingers nervously through his hair. "Shit." He paces over to the couch where the rest of his family is slumped. A horrible feeling rises in my stomach, a cocktail of guilt and regret and pain I've never experienced before. I close my eyes. I can't watch what happens next.

"Paige..." his voice is laced with worry. I stumble backward, out of the doorway. I know he's pressing two fingers to his family's necks, testing for pulses. I know what he'll find. It's all my fault. My heart beats loud in my head and I'd give anything to bring them back, but I can't.

"Oh my God," Brandon mutters. "Oh my God. Mom, please." There's the shuffling of footsteps and I clench my hands into tight fists, nails digging into my palms. "Dad! Oh my God, please be alive, please, please..." his begging collapses into sobs and I vault over the wooden fence, eyes screwed shut. Only when I hit the ground do I open them. I sprint across the valley, trampling bright green blades of grass and little white wildflowers that grow in between. I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere. I belong in a cage, where I can restrain my power and at least maybe, I'd have a chance at survival. I was risking things I couldn't afford to lose, and I lost them, and maybe running away from my problems isn't the best way to solve them, but I can't stay here. Not when I killed Brandon's entire family. Not when I can't control the power that lurks deep within my veins. I can't.

My feet start pounding on the gravel road. Cool air whips across my face, drawing my hair out of my eyes and flinging the tears off my cheeks. I take one heaving breath after another, trying to ignore Brandon's yelling from the house as I disappear into the forest.

"Jason!" He screams, barely an echo as I disappear into the trees. I growl and sprint faster, my feet hardly ever touching the ground.