Page 83 of These Witches Don't Burn
No shit.
“I know I haven’t earned it, but I need you to trust me.” He steps forward, closing the space between us, bending forward until our eyes are level. “I did look into Nolan. So far, everything points to him being a Reg. He’ll get community service for breaking your window, and if he’s involved with the Hunters, I’ll handle him. I promise.”
A woman clears her throat before I can respond. “Excuse me? I’m looking for the Walsh family.”
The detective steps aside, and I catch my first glimpse of the doctor in our doorway. She’s the one from the waiting room, Dr. Perez. She looks disheveled now. Exhausted. Younger than I remember.
Mom takes a tentative step forward. “How is he?”
Dr. Perez grips the file in front of her like a shield. “We did everything we could.”
We did everything...The room quivers around me. Detective Archer grabs my arm, and I realize I’m the one who’s shaking. “No.” I squeeze my eyes shut. This isn’t happening. It’s not real. “No. He’s in recovery. He’s fine.”
“I’m so sorry.” Dr. Perez approaches my mother and presses a small metal band into the palm of her hand. “I thought you might want this.”
Mom uncurls her fingers and crumples when she sees what’s inside, a sob catching in her throat. I catch a flash of gold before she clutches it to her chest, and my universe shatters when I realize what it is.
Dad’s wedding ring.
My knees hit the ground. My lungs won’t inflate. I can’t breathe.
There’s movement around me. Voices. Then shoes walking away. The flutter of a white jacket. Hands on my back. My shoulders. My arms. Tugging. Pulling. Pressing. I suffocate inside someone’s hug.
And the world ceases to exist.
24
I WAKE IN Abed that isn’t mine. My chest is tight, my eyes itchy and dry, but I have no memory of how I got here. The ground shifts beneath me as I turn.An air mattress.On the bed beside me I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and the edge of a pink cast.
Gemma.
And then it all comes rushing back.
My chest burns and my eyes fill and I’m doubled over and I can’t breathe.
Dad’s gone.
“Hannah?” Gemma’s bed creaks and the air mattress dips with her weight. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head and grip her hand. “No.” The word carves up my throat and scrapes over my tongue.
Gemma wraps her arms around me and holds me while I break into a million pieces. She shivers as my magic steals all warmth from the room, but I can’t feel the cold. I can’t see anything beyond the endless loop of my mother’s broken expression.
Puffs of white air tell me Gemma’s speaking. Saying she’s sorry and that it’ll all be okay. But I don’t hear the words. The doctor’s voice drowns out everything else.We did everything we could.
Everything we could.
Everything.
None of it seems real. Yet it’s theonlything that’s real.
I don’t know how much time passes there on the air mattress—days, weeks, years—but eventually, I let Gemma drag me downstairs to the dining room for breakfast. Her parents try to talk to me, but I can’t even look at them. I want my mom. My grandma. But they’re both with Detective Archer, making sure they stop the Hunter, making sure I’m not next.
Gemma’s parents leave for work, and I force myself to keep moving. I shower, the water masking my tears, but then I’m left standing in Gem’s room with a towel and no clothes. Because my house is gone, too. I have nothing. I am nothing.
Mrs. Goodwin washed last night’s outfit, but I don’t want to wear it. The blood may be invisible, but it’s there. Dripping off every thread.
Dad’s gone.
