Where We Go | Book Three

36. What She Truly Is

He was frozen with the box in his hands. 

All it took was one blink, and he dropped the wooden crate to the floor, breaking whatever contents might have been inside. His once-bright eyes darted between the man, the knife and me. Within a second, his face paled and his body finally moved. He walked slowly at first down the aisle and then faster.

"Em?" he scowled, his dark brows pressing together as he reached his hands towards me. "What the fuck? What are you doing?" His lids blinked fast like he was trying to get dust from his eyes. 

Maybe he hoped the sight before him wasn't real. I did too.

I didn't drop the knife. I didn't loosen my grip against Simon. I couldn't.

"Tom, she's a psychopath!" the man pleaded, reaching for him. "She tried to kill me!"

"Stop talking," I seethed. His words were like nails down a chalkboard and the muscles of my neck tensed. It took everything in me not to press the blade any further into his windpipe.

"Tom, please," he continued. "You have to believe me. Look! She broke my wrist."

Tom turned. "Em?" he asked in a voice that was soft and calm. Unmatching to the situation we found ourselves in.

I shrugged. "I guess that part is true."

His cool eyes lingered on my face, patiently waiting for more before he said, "And the rest of it?"

There was more struggling beneath my arm as Simon thrashed his limbs at the force that held him. "Tell her to let me go," he begged again. I jolted, pushing him further against the door where the hinges shook. Carefully, I held the blade a little closer to his skin, where his Adam's apple shifted with a swallow.

"The knife is his," I stared at Simon before turning to Tom. "He was planning to kill me... He just failed at the execution of it."

Tom's stare didn't move but his hand twitched at the back of his waistband, where I knew he holstered his gun. Simon gasped, trying to move his neck away from the shining blade.

"You're going to believe a Corpse over me?"

"Corpse?" Tom scowled. Heavy creases deepened against his forehead as his pupils shifted between me and the man. Still, one hand remained fixed behind his back.

"He figured it out."

"I see..." he muttered. 

Tom was biding time by asking questions. Maybe he hoped Ben or Will would walk into the Church, though they had no reason to. Ben was occupied at the hospital and God knew where Will was. 

His jaw clenched and his pupils darted, never lingering for more than a second; Me, the man, the knife. Over and over. Unlike Tom, I had a plan that involved a body lifeless on the stone floor. And it wasn't going to be mine.

"You don't need to be here, Tom," I urged. "I can handle this." It should have ended minutes ago when the blade first touched his skin.

Tom refused, shaking his head. His brows pressed further together and his eyes flashed wide. "I can't walk out of here now." He'd spoken it like a promise.

I didn't turn. "Don't tell me to let him live."

"Em-"

"No," I rejected. "He dies. Here. Right now."

Simon's upper lip curled, sneering. "You're taking your time," he whispered, taunting. "I would've done it by now."

"Stop talking!" I almost shouted, pressing harder weight against his body and the knife closer to his skin. This time, drawing blood. The dark red beads formed against the wound, falling from the cut and dripping slowly down his pale neck. He swallowed, trying not to wince.

Tom took a step forward. "Em, think about what's happening right now," he spoke calmly. "Killing him isn't going to help us."

"Neither will letting him live!" My breathing was heavy and erratic. The anger boiled my blood and pounded in my chest. If I pushed the knife just a bit further, it would be over.

Tom leaned closer, pressing a hand against my shoulder before saying softly, "Think about the aftermath."

The aftermath.

We'd have the body to deal with, maybe that one would be simple. With two of us, we could easily throw his body off the cliffside after dark. I remained still under Tom's touch as my thoughts raced. After killing him, there would be the questions, the interrogation from Land's End, and the fear setting in. Ben would probably be the one to handle it. I snapped back to myself, and my serpent stare focused on my prey.

"Second thoughts?" Simon sneered.

I flinched. "Don't-"

"Em." Tom gripped tighter on my arm and shook his head.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the heavy throbbing in my ears.

"No," Simon rasped. "Don't stop her. This is what she truly is... An Infected. A murder-"

"No!"

My blade slashed his throat.

Simon's eyes darkened as his life began to slip, his skin paling a sickly grey. The deep red blood pooled across my fingers and my blood ran cold when I looked at the stained knife. In front of me, Simon's body collapsed to the floor, his gargles falling silent upon his impact with the tiles. I stumbled back. Everything was numb and my body felt empty, like whatever anger had been there slipped away through the cracks in the floor.

"I couldn't-" My breaths fell from my chest like there was no energy behind them. It was an effort to even inhale. My body began to shake, trembling convulsions rippling all over. "I don't-"

Tom grabbed my arms and the knife clattered to the stone. "Em, breathe."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to," I gasped. "I don't know what happened."

"What do you mean?" his eyes widened.

I shook my head, all words lost. "It's just like he said. It was like I was Infected."