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I’m vaguely aware of the conversation happening feet away from me. Max is letting his brother know our location and to come with Orson to meet us here on this rooftop. But I don’t want to see Braxton. Because when I do, I know the full weight of his warning will crash down upon me.
It was his condemnation after I let Simon escape during our last run-in. “Every person your brother kills from now on will be on you, I hope you realize that. And it’s not an easy weight to bear.” No, no it’s certainly not, I think, staring over at the bodies. They’d be alive if I hadn’t let Simon slip through my fingers. I had him, right in front of me, with the ability to put his violence to an end.
The Simon I knew was already gone at that point, and yet I still couldn’t bring myself to kill him. In that moment, I still thought there was a chance to save him. All I saw was my brother, locked in a prison of hate.
Could my Simon have done this? taunts a voice within. Blood spatters the cement, ghostly pale faces gaze lifeless into space. It’s a heinous crime, which only a truly wicked person could perform.
Simon didn’t have a wicked bone in his body. But there’s no denying the sight before me. What I could touch with my own hands, the cold flesh, the dried blood. This is real. A tremor starts in my fingertips and gradually slithers into my arms. I clench my hands into white-knuckled fists, but it’s too late. I feel the breakdown circling me like a vulture. This is all my fault.
SIX
Asha
The world grows fuzzy through the lens of my panic. Max becomes a dark blur standing at an indeterminate distance. The air seems thin, like there isn’t enough oxygen. I breathe raggedly. It's like sucking air through a straw.
I thought I was done with this. Fuck! I thought I had mastered this. Why does it keep happening? Am I broken into so many pieces that I’ll never be fixed?
The dark blur turns and I hear Max, though his voice sounds muffled, like he’s shouting through layers of fabric. What? I try to call out to him, but my throat is dry and my attempt precipitates a coughing fit. “Asha!” he shouts, just loud enough it reaches me.
I’m receding from the world, shrinking into myself, into a darkness within.
This is my fault. Everything that’s happened. My mother and sister being killed. My pack being murdered and taken. My brother. These people. All of it. My fault.
What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be normal? Why do I hurt everyone and everything I love?
My body jerks back and forth, shaken by two strong hands clasped over my shoulders. The splotchy shapes gain definition and from the smear of color in my vision Max coalesces. “Asha!” he’s saying, his voice becoming clearer. “Asha. You’re safe. Come back to me. You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”
His words start to cut through the terrible ones in my mind. His voice drowns out my self-hatred. My fear. My overwhelming guilt.
“Asha, it’s Max. I’m right here with you.”
Is there panic in his voice? I don’t know. I don’t know anything.
Except it’s cold. Something under me is hard. Hands slide from my shoulders to my arms, holding me tightly. It’s cold. I’m cold.
“Asha, you’re safe. Come back to me. I’m here.”
And we are… here. Together. Somehow.
We’re seated, facing one another, but I don’t remember sitting down. Though, me falling is more likely. “Max,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“Asha, are you okay?” he says, speaking slowly, enunciating.
A headache squeezes my skull like a vice, but I nod all the same. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
I spy the bodies over his shoulder and it all starts up again.
Their deaths. They’re on me. This is my fault. All my fault.
But then the door to the roof swings open and three figures pour out of the stairwell: one hulkish, another sinewy, and a third squat, blond, and furry. They all come rushing over to me, Trouble beating Braxton and Orson to my side. He forces his furry body into my lap, upturns his face, and starts lashing his tongue against my cheek. It’s annoying, but effective. The dog’s insistent affection successfully distracts me from the mounting anxiety.
Gross. Wet. Ugh. He’s heavy.
This is better. This, I can handle.
Braxton joins us, and Max shifts back to give him access to me. Trouble moves to my side, bumping against my shoulder. It’s like everyone is waiting, but for what?
