Gallagher Girls 5 - Out of Sight, Out of Time by Ally Carter

feet. I heard her begin to gag and vomit, but I didn’t look away from the man who lay lifeless on the ground.
    There was a weight on the rifle, a tug, but I held it steady, kept the assassin in my sights.
    “Cammie,” Zach said, pulling harder on the barrel. I didn’t know where he’d come from or how long he’d been there, but his voice was in my ear, sounding worried and afraid. “Cammie, give me the gun.”
    “Give it to him.” Abby and my mother were running along the ridge toward us. Abby yelled, “Now!”
    And only then did I feel like it was okay to let the rifle—and my defenses—fall.
    Abby walked to the body and called to my mother. “Rachel, any others?”
    “No. I think he’s alone.”
    “Well, he might not be alone for long.” Abby took the gun from Zach and yelled, “Everyone, get to the van.”
    “Cam?” My mother was looking at me. “Cammie, sweetheart, are you hurt?”
    I wasn’t hurt. I was numb. And I liked it.
    Mom shook my shoulders. “Cammie, you need to—”
    “Rachel,” Abby snapped, cutting her off. “We have to go. Now.”
    Bex walked to the body and started digging through the gunman’s pockets.
    “He’s clean, Bex,” Zach told her. “He wouldn’t make the mistake of coming here with anything he couldn’t be found with. He was too good for that.”
    “I’ve got to check—”
    “He’s clean.” Zach shook his head and turned to Liz, put his arm around her, and started up the hill. “Liz, we have to go.”
    “Cammie killed him,” she said, the color gone from her already pale face.
    “He’s not a good man, Liz,” Zach said, turning her around. He made her stare into his eyes. “He is not a good man. It’s good that he’s dead.”
    “It’s good,” Liz repeated.
    “I don’t know who he is,” Zach told her. “I don’t know why he’s here, but I know Abby’s right. We have to go.”
    “We know something.” My voice was frail, as if it were just a shadow who was speaking.
    Liz looked at me. “What?”
    “We know they don’t need me alive anymore.”

 
    W hat I said to my mom: I’m fine.
    What I said to my aunt: It’s okay.
    What I said to the doctor: It doesn’t hurt.
    But I wasn’t fine. It wasn’t okay. And it did hurt. Everywhere. Even in the darkness of the suite, hours later, I could feel my roommates watching me. So I closed the bathroom door and turned the shower on high, the pounding of the water drowning out the pounding of my thoughts as I gripped the sink and leaned closer to the girl in the mirror.
    Dirt and mud clung to her skin. The bruise at her hairline was a sickly shade of purple and green. It looked like the kind of thing you might find floating on a pond at the end of summer.
    The only light came from the night-light Liz had plugged into the outlet by the sink on the first day of seventh grade, and yet it was easy to see the mud and grime. My hoodie was gone, somewhere—covered with Dr. Steve’s blood. New bruises blended with old, up and down my arms. The mirror began to fog, closing in on me like I was about to lose consciousness, but I had to stay awake.
    “Cammie.” It was Liz’s voice, her familiar, faint knock on the bathroom door. “Cam…”
    “I’m fine,” I said, for what felt like the billionth time. “I’m…” And then the words didn’t come.
    I’m not fine.
    I looked at the girl in the mirror, staring back, broken and bruised.
    I’m not her.
    The thought shook me.
    I’m not her! I wanted to scream, but it was like I’d lost my voice as well as my memory.
    That girl had come back from summer break. She had taken things from me. Zach and Bex. My summer. My life.
    I had left, but that girl was the one who had come home.
    And that girl was different.
    I looked down at my hands. They were sore and red and stained with Dr. Steve’s blood.
    That girl had blood on her hands.
    Her hands knew things I wasn’t supposed to know. She did things I didn’t want to do.
    I hated that girl, hated her