Page 40 of Beneath Her Skin

She moves my body through the dead fields, my mind drifting somewhere else—somewhere darker where he cannot see. But we can, and we watch as Rey steps into view.

We are no longer victims.

We are predators.

My fingers tighten around the rock. As she uses my body to creep behind him, controlling my limbs like they are hers. And just as he turns, he meets the rock instead.

Crack.

A sharp inhale.

Before he can recover, she swings again, and this time he crumples.

I don’t stop.

She doesn’t stop.

I straddle him.

It is over before it even begins. Over and over and over, the rock collides with his face. Until his eye pops free from the socket, dangling, useless. Until his teeth shatter against his tongue. Until there is nothing left but ruin. By the time she leaves my body, my hands are still moving.

Still smashing.

Still erasing him.

Only when the pressure inside me splinters my body apart does my grip loosen. I crawl away, dragging myself as far as I can, my limbs burning, my breaths uneven.

She watches.

Blood covers me.

But the rain washes it away. I lean back against a tree, my body trembling as I strip away everything—everything—except for my white long-sleeve shirt. My nails dig into the wet soil. And I push.

I breathe.

Push.

Breathe.

Push.

The pain is blinding and all-consuming.

I am so tired.

Wet.

Tired.

Wet.

Push.

The rain continues to pour, lightning cracking in the sky like an open wound. From the distance, I hear the sirens. I hear him. And I sob, knowing I am safe.

And I push.

The sound of a crying baby shatters the silence, shatters me, shatters everything. The weight of her is warm, perfect, real. I pull her close, shielding her from the rain, from death, from everything that tried to take her from me. Keeping her safe. Right in Mama’s arms.

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