Page 89 of Pulse Zero
Instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own.
“Do my shadows make you…feel things?”
There’s a pause. He doesn’t answer right away, and I feel a little more unease in the silence than usual.
Then, “I thought you knew about that.”
“Ash mentioned it once,” I say, keeping my gaze out the window like I can still see him. But he’s gone now. “She said it made her feel…uncomfortable.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
I exhale slowly and turn away from the window because if I keep staring at the spot where Cason disappeared, I’m going to want to chase him and drag him back, even if it’s kicking and screaming.
As I start pacing across the room, I avoid Sebastian’s scrutinizing gaze. “With Cason, it was more than just discomfort. It was worse. A lot worse.”
“I have a theory. If you’re interested in hearing it?”
I nod.
“It hits harder for people who are already wired for it.”
I come to a stop in the middle of the worn carpet to finally look at him. “What do you mean?”
“Fear. Attachment. Obsession. Whatever flavor you want to call it.” His gaze flicks toward the window. “People who already feel things deeply don’t exactly get a buffer when your shadows decide to…amplify that.”
That thing in my chest tightens again.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Fear.”
I look back out at the darkness as it finally hits—a slow, spreading pressure behind my ribs, like something is trying to claw its way out from the inside. My lungs feel too tight, karma for how I hurt Cason I’m sure. My hands curl at my sides, tendons pulling taut, like I’m bracing for an impact that alreadyhappened.
I can still feel it all. The way he flinched. The way his voice shook when he said my name. The way my shadows…
Moving back to the window, I stare out into the night again because I can’t face Sebastian when I say this. Hell, I can hardly face my own reflection in the glass.
“I wanted to make it stop.” The whisper comes out so rough and raw I’m not sure if he’ll be able to make out the words. “For him, I wanted to make it stop.”
Sebastian is silent for a beat.
“Reese,” he finally says, sounding sad and exasperated. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on, man. I don’t know how to help if you don’t.”
I should tell him that it isn’t part of his job, that I can deal with this myself. If I can’t handle my own shit, how am I supposed to lead anyone against an entire Institute? How am I supposed to keep everyone from being hunted and killed all over again? How am I supposed to keep them all safe? How am I supposed to keep from failing like I did three years ago?
By trusting my best friend, I think.
I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cool glass. “You know I kidnapped him seven years ago.”
“I remember the story. Malcolm hired you to do it to set up your P0E.”
“Yeah.”
Standing straight, I suck in a long, deep breath and turn around. I lean against the wall by the window, cross my arms over my chest, and stare across the room at nothing.
“He developed Stockholm syndrome. I thought that was a myth, to be honest. I’ve kidnapped plenty of people in my life, and he’s the only one of my captives that happened to. I admit I…took advantage of it.”
“Is that what you’d call it?” Sebastian asks, and I can hearthe question within the question.
