Page 24 of Tribute
He ran a hand through his short black hair. “To debrief you about your experience with theUngrich.”
She started to tremble, and a fist lodged somewhere in her throat, expanding with every painful breath she tried to take.
“Hey.” He held up both hands, palms out. “I told them you weren’t ready.” His expression changed. “Lee? It’s okay.”
She shook her head and took a step backward, colliding with one of the low tables and dropping her glass. It smashed into a million pieces, and she jerked her head away as pinpricks of pain splattered her cheek. The smell of blood swirled around her nostrils, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming and ran to the nearest bathroom.
He found her a minute later, bent over the toilet, retching. When she stopped, he picked her up and sat her on the bathroom chair.
“Stay there.”
With deft, gentle touches, he wiped away all her blood and tended to her cuts, spraying them with something that closed them up immediately.
“Trent,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t stop fighting them. They got all over him and inside him and he was ripping at them and screaming and . . .” She gulped down a fresh wave of nausea. “And then they lifted him up and ripped him apart from the inside. We were all covered in his blood, like a rainstorm.”
He handed her a damp towel and sat back on his heels, neither touching her nor commenting on what she’d just said. She dabbed at her clammy face.
She met his opaque gaze. “You said don’t fight them, let them do what they want, just like you trained me, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. But when Trentexploded. . . we all stopped fighting and I gave in.”
He nodded. “You did the right thing.”
“Did I?”
“You’re alive.”
“I’m not sure if I am. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to function properly again.”
“You will.”
She was too tired to glare at him. “How do you know?”
“Because I did.”
“You’re not like me.”
“I’m exactly like you. We’re survivors.”
A tear dripped down her face and ended up on her knee. “I should have helped him.”
“Trent panicked. It’s not your fault.”
“I tried to yell at him, but they filled up my throat and I couldn’t . . .” She swallowed hard. “No one could help him.”
“Exactly.” He rose to his feet. “Do you want to go back to bed or hang out with me and watch some screen?”
“Hang outwith you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m all you’ve got at the moment.” Without waiting to see what she decided, he walked out. Moments later she heard the sound of the telescreen murmuring.
Could she go and sit with him and pretend everything was okay? She fumbled her way out of the bathroom and was brought up short by the sight of Rehz stretched out on the couch, watching some kind of sporting event. The hint of normality made her chest hurt.
Avoiding his line of sight, she crept over to the other couch and curled up in the corner, as far away from him as she could get. A second later she jumped as he tossed a cushion and a soft throw cover at her.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get dinner after this inning is over.”
It was surreal, it was frightening, and yet what else was she to do? Go back to bed and stare at the wall until she went mad wondering if it really was a wall or an alien being she still couldn’t comprehend? Better to listen to another person breathing and pretend to watch a Mitan ball game . . .
After a while, her eyes began to close and she allowed herself to sleep, the noise of the game and Rehz’s disgusted comments about his team’s performance fading into the nothingness.
