Ruins (The Jewel Project #6)

29. Hope

Sam couldn't remember being more frustrated in his life, and he'd been to hell and back. But through it all, never had there been such a long stretch of time in which he felt useless, put out of action. Even his depressive episode had been better than this.

My mind is still intact, at least.

Skye made sure of that. He kept her like a glowing gem inside his heart, protecting him from all the ways in which his mind could destroy his body. It was that and the thought that Sammy was safe which prevented him from going insane. And yet, as time stretched into infinity, he felt like it wasn't enough. He needed her to be there, to talk to him.

You have Christine.

He wasn't sure if the inner voice had been his own or Skye's. Because yes, he did have Christine, and she proved to be more comfort than he'd ever dreamed even in the time he idolized her.

Sam stopped pacing and glanced at her. It was rare to see her sleeping, curled up into a tiny ball. He had no idea how she did it, but she seemed to always be awake, even if they'd decided one of them should always be aware and keep watch. The truth was, he wasn't sleeping much anymore either. His nightmares wouldn't allow him more than a few hours, and those only when he was so exhausted he would just pass out.

As if sensing his gaze, she shifted and cracked an eye open. With a sigh, she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Hey." He crouched next to her.

"How long have I slept?" she mumbled, still rubbing at her eyes.

"I don't know. I've been up for maybe three hours."

"Are they back?"

Her question froze his insides. He didn't have to ask, he knew she meant Tom and Angie. "No," he breathed, barely keeping the panic out of his voice.

Christine checked her watch, her lips turned down in a frown. "It's been two days since they took them."

Sam swallowed heavily and stood again. The only thing keeping him together was the certainty that his twin was not dead. That, however, didn't mean he was still in one piece or that Angie wasn't dead. When Cannon was involved, there were no guarantees. And being unable to do anything chipped into Sam, tearing everything down. Not even Snitch Gravel had called him over in days and it made him feel even more useless.

Christine didn't follow him up. She hugged her knees, resting her forehead against them. He started pacing, throwing her a glance at every turn. For once, she wasn't watching his progress and the changed worried him.

He stopped in front of her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded into her knees, but said nothing. He crouched again, trying to get a look at her face. She wouldn't show him anything and a small sniff escaped her.

"Are you crying?"

His question had her raising her face. There were tears shining in her eyes.

"I'll get over it."

"Christine..." He sat next to her. "You don't have to get over it. Just tell me what it is."

"Everything." She sniffed and rested her cheek on her knees so she could look at him. "It's just a moment of weakness--"

"No." He wrapped and arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. "It's not weakness. You're allowed to cry, Christine, to hate this, to think it's fucked beyond belief."

"I miss being free," she whispered. "I miss being clean and eating. I miss Sammy, and the way she smells and feels in my arms. I miss going out with Angie and laughing with her. I miss your crazy family and being in the kitchen with everyone..." She raised her face and looked him straight in the eyes. "But I know I can't think about that."