Page 64 of Restitution

The room is too fucking hot. I sit up slowly, my bones aching as I move. Everything hurts, and I have the worst migraine ever. There’s a ticking, like a manual clock is in the room, but my eyes search the place, and I don’t see one. I lean down, over the edge of the bed, and look under it.

Nothing.

Is it a clock? What if it’s not?

Barry will know what it is. He fixes everything.

I shakily get to my feet, holding the dresser to keep my balance, trying to follow the ticking sound. It’s growing louder, mocking me, and I screw my eyes shut and slap the side ofmy head, but it’s still there.

The bathroom light nearly blinds me, so I quickly turn it back off and press my back into the wall.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I try to follow the noise again, freezing when I realise what it is.

There’s a bomb in here.

Where?

I overturn everything I can see, but I can’t see it.

Where?

I try to open my window, spinning around as the door opens, a faceless man coming straight for me. I try to swing a punch, but I miss, and the person grabs me, holding me down.

“We’re… all going to… die.” Bomb. Get the bomb.

“It’s Jason,” the person says. “Please calm down. No one’s going to die. Please stop hitting yourself, Kade, please.”

His voice is desperate, pleading with me to calm down, until I fist my hand and attempt to push him away – but then there’s someone else there, a girl.

She kneels in front of me and places her palm on my cheek. “Kade. Look at me.”

“Find it,” I spit. “You need… to find it.”

Dark hair and a beautiful face lean down to me, and the scent of vanilla and coconut fills my senses. “Kade. Breathe. You’re okay.” She’s stroking my cheek, my forehead, my hair, pushing it out of my face. “You’re okay. Me and Jason are here. You’re okay.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Arms wrap around me, the girl lying on her side beside me. “I’m here,” her soft voice says as she presses herself closer. “I’m here. Ground yourself with me. Tell me your three favourite things.”

Her hand is soft as it strokes through my hair, gliding down my face, kneading at my shoulder. The feeling is… soothing. The ticking starts to quieten, and all I can do is focus on her voice, on the other person’s voice, as they talk about their favourite colours, movies, best memories. Both include me.

I close my eyes and press my forehead forward. “Stacey,” I breathe. “Everything.”

“I’ll grab some water,” the other person says. “Keep talking to him.”

The bomb is gone, the headache nearly crushing my skull subsiding, and I stay in Stacey’s arms while she rocks us back and forth, her voice lulling me to sleep.