I sit straight up and know I’m going to be sick.
Luckily, Sonya’s had the foresight to anticipate my needs. A bucket appears just in time for me to empty the meager contents of my stomach into it and then I’m dry-heaving into what is not my suit but some kind of hospital gown and someone is wiping a hot, damp cloth across my face.
Sonya and Sara are hovering over me, the hot cloths in their hands, wiping down my bare limbs, making soothing sounds and telling me I’m going to be fine, I just need to rest, I’m finally awake long enough to eat something, I shouldn’t be worried because there’s nothing to worry about and they’re going to take care of me.
But then I look more closely.
I notice their hands, so carefully sheathed in latex gloves; I notice the IV stuck in my arm; I notice the urgent but cautious way they approach me and then I realize the problem.
The healers can’t touch me.
TEN
They’ve never had to deal with a problem like me before.
Injuries are always treated by the healers. They can set broken bones and repair bullet wounds and revive collapsed lungs and mend even the worst kinds of cuts—I know this because Adam had to be carried into Omega Point on a stretcher when we arrived. He’d suffered at the hands of Warner and his men after we escaped the military base and I thought his body would be scarred forever. But he’s perfect. Brand-new. It took all of 1 day to put him back together; it was like magic.
But there are no magic medicines for me.
No miracles.
Sonya and Sara explain that I must’ve suffered some kind of immense shock. They say my body overloaded on its own abilities and it’s a miracle I even managed to survive. They also think my body has been passed out long enough to have repaired most of the psychological damage, though I’m not so sure that’s true. I think it’d take quite a lot to fix that sort of thing. I’ve been psychologically damaged for a very long time. But at least the physical pain has settled. It’s little more than a steady throbbing that I’m able to ignore for short periods of time.
I remember something.
“Before,” I tell them. “In Warner’s torture rooms, and then with Adam and the steel door—I never—this never happened—I never injured myself—”
“Castle told us about that,” Sonya tells me. “But breaking through one door or one wall is very different from trying to split the earth in two.” She attempts a smile. “We’re pretty sure this can’t even compare to what you did before. This was a lot stronger—we all felt it when it happened. We actually thought explosives had gone off. The tunnels,” she says. “They almost collapsed in on themselves.”
“No.” My stomach turns to stone.
“It’s okay,” Sara tries to reassure me. “You pulled back just in time.”
I can’t catch my breath.
“You couldn’t have known—,” Sonya starts.
“I almost killed—I almost killed all of you—”
Sonya shakes her head. “You have an amazing amount of power. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know what you were capable of.”
“I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed Adam—I could’ve—” My head whips around. “Is he here? Is Adam here?”
The girls stare at me. Stare at each other.
I hear a throat clear and I jerk toward the sound.
Kenji steps out of the corner. He waves a half wave, offers me a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry,” he says to me, “but we had to keep him out of here.”
“Why?” I ask, but I’m afraid to know the answer.
Kenji pushes his hair out of his eyes. Considers my question. “Well. Where should I begin?” He counts off on his fingers. “After he found out what happened, he tried to kill me, he went ballistic on Castle, he refused to leave the medical wing, and then he wou—”
“Please.” I stop him. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Never mind. Don’t. I can’t.”
“You asked.”
“Where is he?” I open my eyes. “Is he okay?”
Kenji rubs the back of his neck. Looks away. “He’ll be all right.”
“Can I see him?”
Kenji sighs. Turns to the girls. Says, “Hey, can we get a second alone?” and the 2 of them are suddenly in a hurry to go.
“Of course,” Sara says.
“No problem,” Sonya says.
“We’ll give you some privacy,” they say at the same time.
And they leave.
Kenji grabs 1 of the chairs pushed up against the wall and carries it over to my bed. Sits down. Props the ankle of 1 foot on the knee of the other and leans back. Links his hands behind his head. Looks at me.
I shift on the mattress so I’m better seated to see him. “What is it?”
“You and Kent need to talk.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Yes. I know.”
“Do you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” He nods. Looks away. Taps his foot too fast against the floor.
“What?” I ask after a moment. “What are you not telling me?”
His foot stops tapping but he doesn’t meet my eyes. He covers his mouth with his left hand. Drops it. “That was some crazy shit you pulled back there.”
All at once I feel humiliated. “I’m sorry, Kenji. I’m so sorry—I didn’t think—I didn’t know—”
He turns to face me and the look in his eyes stops me in place. He’s trying to read me. Trying to figure me out. Trying, I realize, to decide whether or not he can trust me. Whether or not the rumors about the monster in me are true.
“I’ve never done that before,” I hear myself whisper. “I swear—I didn’t mean for that to happen—”
“Are you sure?”
“What?”
“It’s a question, Juliette. It’s a legitimate question.” I’ve never seen him so serious. “I brought you here because Castle wanted you here. Because he thought we could help you—he thought we could provide you with a safe place to live. To get you away from the ass**les trying to use you for their own benefit. But you come here and you don’t even seem to want to be a part of anything. You don’t talk to people. You don’t make any progress with your training. You do nothing, basically.”