Page 50 of Uprising

“Can’t they just stay there?” I asked, closing my borrowed book. I would be fine never using my left hand again. I’m right-handed anyway.

Reed gives me a stern look, obviously telling me that’s a no. But it’s also that look right there that has my insides melting. Though that feeling quickly dies when he picks up a pack of sterile gloves.

“How bad is this going to hurt?” I hold the book up against my chest.

“It’ll be like a two; the most you’ll feel is a few tugs.” He pulls out a gauze pad and a brown bottle.

“I’m not too sure about this.” I mumble.

Reed rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as he grabs the top of the sling and slowly eases my arm out of it. A dull ache settles deep in my left shoulder, a stiffness that even breathing feels like I’m being dragged through the mud.

Reed leans forward with supplies in his hand. I slam my eyes closed, not being able to watch him pull those things out of me.

“Did you know that cows have best friends?” I blurt out the moment he does the first tug. “They do; they create this special bond that’s so strong that when they get separated they become stressed.”

“Cows, huh?” Reed mutters, tugging against my shoulder.

“Yup, they also have amazing memory. So if you’ve ever been mean to one, they’ll know.”

Reed listens to me as I give him random facts about cows. I’m not entirely sure why it’s cows I decide to start spewing at the mouth about. But it keeps my mind off what Reeds is doing until he’s done.

“The scar isn’t too terrible; it should fade,” Reed says.

I lift my head, blinking my eyes open. Taking a peek down, relief washes over me when I see my wound closed and healed for the most part. The question about what happened sits on the tip of my tongue.

Reed gathers the supplies he used and stands. I flex my left fingers, testing to make sure I could still move them. A tight pull shoots through my shoulder to my elbow. My breath hitches; pain flickers in my chest.

“It’ll take some time, but soon you’ll forget about the pain,” Reed utters behind me.

I swallow, my throat tight. The words are there, the question itching to be asked. I’ve tried to ignore the nagging of what happened, but I can’t ignore it. I glance at Reed over my shoulder, watching him move around the kitchen.

The silence stretches between us, unspoken tension, and I’m not sure what comes over me before I’m marching over to the kitchen. Slamming my hands down, I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from crying out in pain.

“I want the truth,” I finally announce.

Reed stops in his tracks, peeking at me from the corner of his eye. I refuse to back down, even if that look tells me I should probably walk away.

“I need the truth, Reed. I’ve asked what happened, and you refuse to tell me; why? I already know you’re a killer, and apparently that hasn’t scared me. Even though it totally should. I mean, who in their right mind just accepts the fact they got blown by a murderer?” My face heats at the mention of his mouth on me. But I can’t think about that right now; if I do, I’ll forget that I wanted to get answers out of him. Ones that I refuse to let him get away with.

“I mean, we never even talked about that. You killed people, Reed. Why? Do you plan on killing me?” The idea suddenly dawns on me. He was a murderer—he still is. I’ve seen him kill zombies, and sure they’re technicallydead,but they were still people. It was hard for me to accept.

The silence was unbearable, the way he stared at me like an object versus a person.

“Answer me,” I demand. My fingers curl into fists, my short nails digging into my palms.

“No, I’m not going to kill you.” I gave him the fact that he answeredoneof my questions. But it wasn’t the one I wanted to truly know. Reed knew what happened, and I hate that he won’t tell me.

“You know that’s not what I want to know. Tell me what happened!”

The answer lingers between us, but it’s beyond my reach. It’s trapped between his perfect lips, locked away like it’s some terrible secret. It can’t be that bad. I just don’t understand why he won’t tell me.

“For fuck’s sake! Just tell me!” My voice cracks under the sheer desperation that he’ll see me break and tell me.

But it’s silent. I feel the suffocation pressing harder against my chest. Pushing me until I feel my feet dangle over the edge. Something inside me was breaking, and before I could stop it a scream tore through my throat. Raw and unrestrained. It rips out of me, the once quiet air no longer holding any kind of peace. It was all forgotten.

My lungs burn; my entire body trembles from the force, the need to be heard. I need to break through the invisible wall Reed has built so tightly around his heart. He’s worse than I am when it comes to trust. And that’s saying something. I might pretend to hold trust in those around me, but it’s all a lie.

I learned to trust no one. But somehow inside me I want to trust him. I want to hold myself open so he can stitch the broken piece back together. I want him to be the reason I feel whole for once in my life.

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