Ultraviolet ✔️

25.1

Chapter Twenty-Five

Months later...

New York never remembers.

The city goes on with life. It doesn't recall faces or voices or moments. It stands strong, unburdened by the demons of the past. As I walk through the streets of Hell's Kitchen with my messenger bag bouncing against my hip, I find myself envious. No matter how much I distract myself with H2 or school, every step I take reminds me of the reality I'll never escape.

I'm limping like always. It's become harder and harder to hide it, especially from Joel. Even if all that remains is a puckered pink scar on my thigh, I can feel the echoes of the agonizing gunshot. Every once in a while, my muscles seize up and my nerves are set on fire. The pain is enough to break me, to stop me mid-step and send me collapsing until it stops.

Every time I have to wait for the episode to pass, I'm forced to think about Stan, and about how the worst night of my life will always follow me around.

As I hobble down the final stretch of sidewalk, I try to remind myself to calm down. Not that it does much to help me. I get into the lobby of my apartment building with shaking hands. I'd like to say I'm trembling from the cold, but my gloves take care of that. The truth is, I'm on edge, just like I've been for a long time.

"How're you doing, Vi?" Angus, the doorman, asks when I enter the elevator.

"I'm good," I say. It's a lie, but, these days, half of the things that come out of my mouth are usually lies, so it comes easily to me.

He says something else, but I don't quite hear him. I keep looking ahead of me, waiting for us to reach the floor our apartment is on so I can disappear into my room. I feel a little guilty about ignoring him, but I hobble out of the elevator as fast I can and hurry to my front door.

My hands are still quivering, making it difficult to get the key into the lock, but I manage to do it. When I get the front door open, I hear the sound of music playing softly and the smell of Joel's signature potato soup floods my senses.

He pokes his head out of the kitchen, grinning at me. "Hey, sweetheart."

I fumble for the buttons on my coat, trying to keep my fingers as steady as possible. "Hey, Joel."

My voice is flat, but I hope he doesn't notice. I hang my jacket up in the small closet in the hall and face him.

He sets something down on the counter and walks to me, taking me in his arms. He lets out a breath so deep it sounds he's been holding it in until the moment I got home. Instead of kissing me, he hugs me, holding on like he knows I need him.

I bury my face in his chest, dreading the moment he lets go.

"You okay?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm fine."

"Chief said you seemed off when you got into the office earlier today," he says. "Are you sure?"

"I said I was fine, Joel."

"I know you did. I just don't believe you."

I pull back, looking him in the eyes. He looks right back at me, green eyes so soft they cut right through me.

"How was your class?"

"Nothing special," I say evasively.

"Any visions today?" he asks. It sounds so casual I can almost pretend this is the sort of thing people talk about often.

"No," I say after a second or two. "It's a good thing winter means I can bundle up. I haven't had one in a while."

"I'm glad."