Where We Go | Book Three

37. Breathe With Me

The image of the blade slicing Simon's throat sat with me. It hung around each thought and suffocated each breath in the moments that followed. 

My hands were stained with the reminder of the part of me I so desperately tried to forget. I thought I was stronger, I thought I had more resilience, but it took over and consumed me with a single word. Even as I stared at the body, I couldn't believe I'd done it.

"Em," Tom snapped me from the trance.

I blinked.

"We're fixing it, okay?" he said. "What's done is done." My head moved a fraction, barely a nod of acknowledgement. He stepped to the side, slipping a plank of wood through the door handles, locking us inside. "We have to move fast. Did Ben say where he was going?" he asked, placing a hand against my arm like he somehow knew the touch would ground me.

My eyes jumped to his stare. "Why?"

His expression turned guilty. His eyes almost pleading. "We can't deal with this by ourselves, Em. We need him."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as the blood pooled at my feet. My chest tightened, constricting each breath. "The hospital," I said finally. "He's with Julia."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "I'm going to go find him. You wait in here."

"Alone?"

His brows lifted. "It'll be fine," he said. "Nobody will come in... I'll lock the back door behind me." I could feel my widened eyes and panicked stare and Tom must've noticed too. "I'm coming back. I promise."

A few steps later, the back door clicked shut and the key turned. I was alone with Simon. He'd said the words. He knew it before I did. 

That Infected piece of me was still there, lingering. I'd felt it under my skin, felt it when the blade cut skin and his warm blood ran over my fingers. I outstretched my hand and clenched it into a fist. I had killed so many already. So coldly and heartlessly murdered men and women. Their faces fossilised in my memory, every single one of them. Simon was another on the list. If even the serum couldn't take away that feeling, that urge, what hope did I have?

I took the first step back from the body. Looking up at the walls, the sun was low against the windows. It would be sunset soon. The dreamy orange glow would fall into the night, and we would be in darkness. 

The Church had never felt emptier, and I flinched at every gust of wind, anything that rattled the back door. My gaze stopped on the carpet behind the altar. It was big enough to roll the body up and the only thing around that we could use to hide him.

His body was heavier than I expected it to be as I tugged at his arm, dragging him centimetres at a time down the aisle. Every tug took a breath from me and strained each muscle in my arms. All I could think was that I'd proved his point. I was exactly what he thought I was. 

With another pull, his foot caught on one of the tiles and I fell backwards, expecting more give than there was. My elbow hit the ground first, followed by my head. High-pitched ringing sang in my ears, and I squinted, my blurry vision slowly clearing. 

As I sat up, my head felt heavy, and a new throbbing pounded my forehead. I was weak, in every aspect and in every way. I couldn't fight the urge, and now, I couldn't even fix the mess. My vision began to blur looking at Simon's body, tears swirling across my pupils. The pool of blood on the stone was a rippling mirage and the trail of blood up the aisle ended at my feet.

Vicious sobs wracked my body, tightening my chest and burning nausea in my stomach. My hands trembled as I grabbed my knees, pulling them closer to my body. I wanted to wrap myself tight enough that I would disappear. To be an insignificant speck in the ocean, drifting endlessly for days. Far away from who I was or what I was becoming still. The blood stained my trousers, and I lifted my palms. Every crease was stained red, and I pressed my hand to my mouth trying to stifle the cries that wouldn't stop.