There's nothing you're forced to trust more than your own mind. You're dependent on it, it stores the memories that make up your world.
But what if it could be stolen from you?
Aspen's world is growing, from the boundaries of her country farm to...
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-Ann
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Water droplets ran in thin streams down my thighs, trailing long tangled branches of black across my skin as the blood and dirt washed from my hair. It stung my neck and my bicep and the hundreds of scratches marring my body, but I didn't feel it. I didn't even care for feeling it. My mind was only capable of comprehending one thing: Conrad Blackwood's death.
Fatigue was inevitable. After showering and changing into a shirt belonging to Isaac's roommate--who was big enough to provide a top that hit the top of my knee--I bided time, pacing up and down Isaac's kitchen as he rubbed anxiously at his jaw, his eyes occasionally flickering to mine with doubt.
I was starting to feel the slow creep of exhaustion as the sky darkened. Though I still couldn't feel my injuries, my limbs were growing heavy. The buzz of power trickling down my spine wasn't enough to sustain my movements. I was in no condition to attack, but it was all that clouded my brain, time fuelling the frustration crippling my body.
How long would it take for him to realise I'd escaped? It probably hadn't taken long at all. He'd have found their bodies by now.
I halted, an unexpected dread filling me, threatening to tear down the wall of numbness surrounding me. Alone. I'd left her alone, her mangled figure abandoned. She would be cold by now. She was dead.
My breathing was quickening, and by the time I processed it, air was racing up and down my windpipe in ragged heaves, my lungs refusing to contain it. I was having a panic attack. My hands flew to my throat--which was wrapped heavily in fresh bandage--and I tried desperately to create more room to breathe.
"Aspen," Isaac said, straightening from where he was leaning against the cabinet. Through the blur of my vision, I sensed him stand before me, clutching my shoulders. "You need to sleep. You need to rest. We don't know where he is, and even if we did you're not in any condition to--"
I cut him off with a heavy nod, slowly taking control over my breath. He was right, I knew he was right. Though I was desperate, I was still rational. I wasn't going to risk this because I was impatient.
I needed to find him before he found me. But there was only one place I knew he'd be, and that was psychology class. They were too valuable for him to abandon. But they were also his army.
"Sleep," I agreed, my breathing stabilising. If I rested and conserved the energy I'd consumed--no, stolen from the others--I could have a fighting chance.
I almost laughed. A fighting chance. It was a desperate grasp for hope. A hope I didn't deserve anymore.
Isaac put a chair against his bedroom door, in case the lock failed. In case he came to find me. It added more reassurance than it should have. I mean, if he was capable of making me slit my own throat, surely he could tackle a door.
