And suddenly I was alone with my worst nightmare.
“Hello, Rory,” he said, a thin smile creeping across his lips. “I knew you’d come to me.”
He tipped his head to the side, looking me up and down with a covetous, hungry expression. All at once I wanted to rush him, wanted to tackle him, wanted to pummel him into oblivion.
“I was going to have your sister, but then I thought that wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” he said, making my skin crawl. “You were always the one I wanted, Rory. Only you. The unsung star.”
He took a step toward me and reached out his hand. I flinched as he stroked my hair with the back of his fingers.
“Let’s finish what we started, shall we?”
With that, he lunged at me and turned me around, locking his arm around my neck. I was about to scream when an excruciating, piercing, burning pain sliced right through my gut. At that exact moment, Nell screamed and released me, staggering back against the wall and sinking to the ground, but I was in so much pain I was barely aware of him. I doubled over, gagging, coughing, wheezing for air. My hands flew out, but my face still collided with the wood floor. Suddenly, the door flew open, and Darcy’s knees hit the ground next to me.
“Rory? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Darcy was on top of me, shaking me. The pain was so horrible the images in front of me bent and swayed. I turned my face slowly, my nose scraping against the splintery wood planks, and looked toward the wall.
Steven Nell was writhing on the floor as well. Screaming. Begging for mercy.
“What is it?” Darcy asked me desperately. “What’s wrong?”
I coughed and closed my eyes. I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted the pain to stop.
And then, Darcy was gone. I heard her screeching, but someone had pulled her away. A hand touched the back of my neck, and a warm, comforting hum filled my body. Slowly, the pain began to subside. It cooled to a dull throb. I tried for a breath, and sweet oxygen filled my lungs.
“It’s okay,” Tristan whispered in my ear. “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I opened my eyes. The world slowly slipped back into focus. Carefully, I sat up, Tristan’s fingers still cupping the back of my neck. He sat down in front of me, our legs crooked to the side, and looked me in the eye.
“Breathe,” he said. “Breathe.”
So I did. Over his shoulder, I saw Kevin and Fisher dragging Steven Nell off the ground as he squirmed and screamed between them. Together, they moved for the door, but Nell staggered sideways, his knees giving way as he spit and sobbed and flailed. Somehow they managed to get him outside. Managed to drag him away.
“Look at me,” Tristan ordered. “Rory. Look at me.”
I did as I was told. I looked into Tristan’s eyes.
“You’re ready,” he said, breathless. “You’re ready now.”
“Ready for what?”
But even as I said the words, it was happening again. A pinprick of emptiness began inside my chest and widened, widened, widened to engulf me. I reached out and clung to Tristan’s arms as I felt myself start to slide backward, start to lose gravity and form, start to slip. Panic took hold of my every pore, squeezing out the air, blacking out the sky overhead.
But no, that was just the fog. Just the fog closing in.
“Look at me, Rory,” he said firmly. “Trust me.”
His eyes were so blue. The color so real, so true, so beautiful.
“I can’t, Tristan,” I heard myself whimper, squeezing my eyes closed.
“Yes, you can. It’s time,” he told me, holding on to me. “You can do it, Rory. It’s okay. Just. Let. Go.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. Suddenly, images came rushing in on me. My mother pushing me on the swing in our backyard. My dad blowing out birthday candles in our old kitchen, before Mom remodeled it. Darcy laughing at me over her shoulder as I chased her in a game of tag. The turtle I’d had for three weeks in fifth grade. The first science award I’d ever won, being hung around my neck. My mother in bed, so fragile and small, squeezing my hand and saying good-bye. Taking third place at regionals last year. Winning the ribbon at the science fair and Samir’s grouchy face as he looked on. Christopher kissing me in his bedroom. Steven Nell grabbing me in the woods. Messenger telling us we had to go.
And then my father splayed out on the road. Darcy’s head bashed in. The blood, the tears, the scream. The slice of a knife.
I opened my eyes, and the world slammed into focus. Tristan’s fingers were tight around my arms, his eyes locked on mine, the fog growing thicker around us. And just like that I understood.
“Rory?” Darcy called out, breaking away from Joaquin. She fell on the floor next to me and grabbed my hand. “Are you okay?”