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He grins at me, then looks out my window as we gun it through an intersection.
Eyes turn to flames.
And then everything happens in slow motion.
We’re hit from the side.
Another car slams into us.
Bumper to my door.
The sick crunch of metal.
The shattering of glass.
My body rag-dolled.
My head loose on my neck.
The car rolls.
And rolls.
Roof crunching on the ground, punching in inches from my head.
Momentum spinning it round and round, I’m up, I’m down, until it comes to a violent stop.
The seatbelt cutting into my chest until it just gives away.
I’m propelled forward, out of the windshield, glass breaking all around me, in my mouth, my ears, my hair, and I’m flying, flying.
I don’t feel it when I hit the ground.
But I do.
I’m on the ground.
Gasping for air.
Nails in the pavement, clawing for life.
It feels like all the weight of the world is on my back, pressing down, telling me to stay down, to give up, to give in.
But if I do, I die.
And then Max dies.
Max.
Max!
I press my palms into the damp concrete, glass cutting into them, and push myself up, trying to get to my knees.
It’s hard. It’s so hard.
Easier to stay flat.
To give in.
I take in a breath, my lungs feel broken.
I look up.
There’s a car facing us.
One headlight in the darkness.
It’s the car that hit us.
And a woman is stepping out.
She looks fine.
Of course she’s fine.
It’s Michelle.
A cry dies in my throat and I look behind me at the Super B, smashed up against a tree. The trunk is open, the sword and my textbooks strewn across the road, peppered with glass.
“Max!” I try to scream but I can’t, it comes out in a puff of air.
Oh my god, tell me he’s okay, tell me he’s okay.
Please.
I keep staring at the car, the steam rising from the crumpled-up hood, waiting for him to stir, waiting for him to step out and face Michelle and make everything okay again.
But he doesn’t.
No one steps out of the car.
And deep inside me, the energy drains.
It wasn’t just my own energy that I was carrying with me.
It’s his too.
And he’s bleeding out of me.
I gasp, trying to breathe, and then a laugh makes me remember.
I see Michelle by her car, leaning against it like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“I told you to stay out of his way,” she says.
I try to shake my head, but my brain screams in pain, the world tilts. I can’t see out of one eye.
“You,” I say hoarsely, throat raw. “You did this.”
“He created this,” she says. “Put up a fuss at the last minute. But don’t worry. He won’t now. You know, the greatest power that we have is convincing someone that they aren’t worthy of being alive.”
With a burst of anger, I push myself up on my feet, unsteady. My shoes are gone, I’m barefoot on glass, one dress strap snapped.
I’m nothing compared to her.
I have nothing.
I can’t defeat her without Max, and the more I think about him, the more I try to hone in on him, the more I can’t feel him.
He’s faded away.
He’s dead.
Again.
He can’t help me now.
Grief strikes me so hard that tears spring from my eyes, like someone punched me right in the heart.
I throw my head back to the night sky and scream.
I scream in a place that no one will hear me because they’re screaming too.
“Give it up,” Michelle says. “Lie back down and close your eyes. Maybe you’ll end up in the same place as him.”
And then I close my eyes.
Nearly sink to my knees.
Because it’s easier to give in sometimes.
It takes a lot to keep on fighting.
And sometimes it takes more than we can give.
But I need to save myself.
If not because Max would have wanted me to, but because others would want me to. My grandmother. My mother. Perry, my father. Dex. Jacob even. Maybe Jay.
I can’t give up now.
Not when there’s so much to live for.
And I have so much left to give.
“No,” I tell her, the words coming out guttural. “Fuck that.”
She frowns, letting out a breathy laugh. “Where do you get your nerve?”
“I was born with it,” I tell her.
Then I turn around.
Lunge toward the sword lying between me and the car.
Crouch down, wrap my hands around it, feel the weight.
Close my eyes, concentrate on the energy flowing out of my hands and the energy from the sword flowing into mine.
Max’s energy.
I open my eyes.
I know I have flames in them.
My sight is on fire.
With a roar I lift the sword into the air, swinging it around, and then I’m running at her, sword raised.
Michelle doesn’t even have time to react.
I take a swing like I’m in Little League again, and this time instead of disappointing my father, I let that sword crack like a bat.
A demon head for a ball.
