stop breathing, watches the fingers stop twitching, watches—and smiles
.
Nix was sweating and shaking, and Claire just burrowed farther into his side. He couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t
. He pulled his body away from hers. Laid her head gently on the ground. Stood up.
I’ve killed. I’m a killer. I will kill again
.
That thought was dull in his mind. Maybe once, he could have been something else. But not now. Never now, never with her. Killing was easy. Walking away from Claire—that was hard. Nix made it a hundred yards before his fingernails began to dig into the skin of his palms.
Pain didn’t help. He barely felt it. Felt her light touch on his scars instead.
Keep walking. Don’t look back
.
He and Claire couldn’t happen again. Ever. Eventually, he’d hurt her. He’d sooner cut off his own hands.
Nix focused on that as he walked away from her. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t let anyone else harm a hair on her head. The Society wanted Claire dead. Nix knew them well enough to know that they wouldn’t stop. Not unless someone stopped them.
That, he could do.
Claire woke up with swollen lips, a crick in her neck, and a smile on her face. She felt older. Wiser.
Special.
Like the Claire she’d been before kissing Nix was another girl. Like that girl was the one who people talked over and bumped into and stared through. And then she turned over onto her side, her fingers fanning out, one byone, exploring the crevices of the forest floor. Stretching her hand toward the place Nix should have been.
Stretching farther.
Claire opened her eyes.
The dawn had come and gone. And so had
—no
. She wouldn’t go there, couldn’t think that. She scanned the woods around her. Nervous hands found each other, her fingers interlocking.
Trees. Leaves. Dirt. Sticks. Bugs. Birds
.
No Nix.
Interlocked fingers pulled Claire’s knees tight to her chest. The longer she sat there, the more her thoughts began working their way up to a deafening roar, white noise that threatened to start saying things—horrible things—about girls who touched boys and boys who lied to get exactly what they wanted from stupid, stupid girls.
You’re here, and he left, and this time, he isn’t coming back. You know he’s not
.
“Situation.” Claire said the word out loud, and her teeth chattered, even though she wasn’t cold. “Situation: What if—”
What if he’s the only one? The only person physically capable of really looking at you, seeing you, caring about you, remembering you? What if you’re the only two Nobodies in the whole world, and he’d rather be alone than spend one more hour with you?
“Situation.” Claire couldn’t think of one. The sole thingshe could think about was Nix. Touching her. Kissing her. Hands on either side of her face.
All she could think was that he’d left her lying on the ground. Leaves in her hair. Lips swollen. He’d
left
her. The cacophony of emotion in her head receded, leaving only one emotion, only one thought.
You don’t
get
to leave me
.
The road leading up to the institute was long and straight. Gravel crunched under Nix’s feet as he walked the familiar path.
There’s a knife in his right hand. His left is coated with blood. His body feels heavy
.
He can’t fade. Not now. Not after—
Nix shook off the memory. Not Three this time. Seven. He could feel the images fighting to take hold of his mind. Darkness dotted his field of vision. He forced himself to keep walking. Closer to the institute. Closer to the people who’d sent him to kill Claire.
There’s a knife in his right hand. His left is coated with blood. His body feels heavy. He can’t fade. Not now. Not after what he’s done. Not this time
.
He should feel something. Triumph, nausea, fear—anything. But he doesn’t. His arms hang listlessly by his sides. The blade in his right hand swings gently as he walks
.
He’s never used a knife on a living, breathing being before, but this time, his
.
Nix was sweating and shaking, and Claire just burrowed farther into his side. He couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t
. He pulled his body away from hers. Laid her head gently on the ground. Stood up.
I’ve killed. I’m a killer. I will kill again
.
That thought was dull in his mind. Maybe once, he could have been something else. But not now. Never now, never with her. Killing was easy. Walking away from Claire—that was hard. Nix made it a hundred yards before his fingernails began to dig into the skin of his palms.
Pain didn’t help. He barely felt it. Felt her light touch on his scars instead.
Keep walking. Don’t look back
.
He and Claire couldn’t happen again. Ever. Eventually, he’d hurt her. He’d sooner cut off his own hands.
Nix focused on that as he walked away from her. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wouldn’t let anyone else harm a hair on her head. The Society wanted Claire dead. Nix knew them well enough to know that they wouldn’t stop. Not unless someone stopped them.
That, he could do.
Claire woke up with swollen lips, a crick in her neck, and a smile on her face. She felt older. Wiser.
Special.
Like the Claire she’d been before kissing Nix was another girl. Like that girl was the one who people talked over and bumped into and stared through. And then she turned over onto her side, her fingers fanning out, one byone, exploring the crevices of the forest floor. Stretching her hand toward the place Nix should have been.
Stretching farther.
Claire opened her eyes.
The dawn had come and gone. And so had
—no
. She wouldn’t go there, couldn’t think that. She scanned the woods around her. Nervous hands found each other, her fingers interlocking.
Trees. Leaves. Dirt. Sticks. Bugs. Birds
.
No Nix.
Interlocked fingers pulled Claire’s knees tight to her chest. The longer she sat there, the more her thoughts began working their way up to a deafening roar, white noise that threatened to start saying things—horrible things—about girls who touched boys and boys who lied to get exactly what they wanted from stupid, stupid girls.
You’re here, and he left, and this time, he isn’t coming back. You know he’s not
.
“Situation.” Claire said the word out loud, and her teeth chattered, even though she wasn’t cold. “Situation: What if—”
What if he’s the only one? The only person physically capable of really looking at you, seeing you, caring about you, remembering you? What if you’re the only two Nobodies in the whole world, and he’d rather be alone than spend one more hour with you?
“Situation.” Claire couldn’t think of one. The sole thingshe could think about was Nix. Touching her. Kissing her. Hands on either side of her face.
All she could think was that he’d left her lying on the ground. Leaves in her hair. Lips swollen. He’d
left
her. The cacophony of emotion in her head receded, leaving only one emotion, only one thought.
You don’t
get
to leave me
.
The road leading up to the institute was long and straight. Gravel crunched under Nix’s feet as he walked the familiar path.
There’s a knife in his right hand. His left is coated with blood. His body feels heavy
.
He can’t fade. Not now. Not after—
Nix shook off the memory. Not Three this time. Seven. He could feel the images fighting to take hold of his mind. Darkness dotted his field of vision. He forced himself to keep walking. Closer to the institute. Closer to the people who’d sent him to kill Claire.
There’s a knife in his right hand. His left is coated with blood. His body feels heavy. He can’t fade. Not now. Not after what he’s done. Not this time
.
He should feel something. Triumph, nausea, fear—anything. But he doesn’t. His arms hang listlessly by his sides. The blade in his right hand swings gently as he walks
.
He’s never used a knife on a living, breathing being before, but this time, his
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