The Dark and Hollow Places - Carrie Ryan [36]
I race across the roof, skirting the edges of my garden as if it matters whether I trample the fragile buds. Once at the fire escape I make my way down to the fifth floor, not even pausing before I step through the window.
My mistake is in thinking that things would be the same as I left them only a few days ago. My mistake is in not checking to see if the flat is empty. In barging in without a weapon drawn.
For assuming that the panic of the horde would mean that people were consumed with tasks more important than breaking into places that are not their own.
I see the figure standing by the bed at the back of the long narrow room and my heart skips. I pause, and the sudden change in my momentum causes me to stumble, my balance thrown off.
His body is wrapped in shadows, the meager winter light from the window not penetrating deep enough to illuminate his features. He stands with all his weight on one leg, and his once-black shirt is now frayed and gray, the cuffs at his hands ragged. His fingers clutch into fists.
“Annah?” White clouds slip through the frozen air as he exhales my name.
I close my eyes. I will my heart to stop beating and my blood to stop pumping so that nothing can distract me from the full measure of the sound of him calling my name, his voice soft as his lips form around the sounds and syllables.
It can’t be true. It can’t be him. I know this deep inside, and I understand the realization that this person in my flat is really a stranger will be one of the most painful I’ll have to endure.
But for just this moment I want to believe. I want to imagine that even while the City falls apart outside, something can still be hopeful.
“Elias,” I breathe.
His eyes grow wide and mine fill with tears. In an instant, I see all the ways he’s changed over the past three years, every feature hazily familiar. Where his hair used to be long enough to tuck behind his ears, now it’s short, as if his head’s been shaved recently. Three faint remnants of scratches run down his cheek, so light I’d probably not have seen them if I weren’t staring at him, examining him so closely.
My heart quickens as the reality of the situation washes over me.
Elias. This is my Elias. He’s here, right in front of me. I stare at him, at the curve of muscle over bone that protrudes too far. The way his cheeks seem a little sharp, and barely visible lines furrow between his eyes. He’s at once the boy who left me behind and yet someone else entirely. Someone new and almost scary.
Suddenly I wonder what changes he sees in me—if I’m the girl he remembers or if I’ve changed as he has. My stomach feels fluttery at the way he stares at me, taking me in.
In all my dreams of him coming home again, this is how it happens—me and him alone in the flat. Safe together.
He’s just moving toward me when Catcher stumbles into the room, placing his hand on my back to avoid knocking into me. I know the instant he senses someone else in the flat because he steps forward and in front of me, his fingers reaching for my arm to push me toward the window and safety.
Elias halts, taken aback. “Catcher?” Confusion spreads across his features and Catcher stiffens.
And then before anything else happens, before I can touch Elias and pull him into a hug to make sure that it’s really him and he’s really here safe and alive, he grabs Catcher. “Where’s Gabry?” he demands, looking out the window past both of us as if expecting her to follow.
It’s like I don’t exist, hidden behind Catcher’s back. I step around him and watch as Elias grips Catcher’s shoulders hard. Catcher winces, the wound on his upper arm fresh under the bandage. He eases out of Elias’s grasp.
“Where is she?” Elias asks again, his voice taking on an edge of hysteria. I’m stunned by the look on his face, the barely controlled panic.
I move forward, place