Page 5 of Burn Like An Angel

“Then stop staring, and get us out of here!”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Whatever you say.”

Dodging the dead or unconscious guard who’s sprawled out near the steps leading inside, we head for the rear entrance to Harrowdean’s reception. My cooked-spaghetti legs are barely carrying my weight.

We’ve both been wilfully battered in our time beneath ground, and though Lennox looks in far worse shape, I can feel the steady throbbing of my wrist along with countless bruises and other injuries from the beatings.

My wounds are bleeding, each droplet dripping in time to the rhythmic pounding of my skull. Between the water torture, subsequent beatings and lack of food or sleep beyond passing out, the trauma of our trip to the Z wing is quickly making itself known.

“Inside,” Xander orders. “We’re too exposed out here.”

“How are we supposed to do this?” I ask weakly.

“Take Raine—don’t let him fall.” He shifts Lennox’s weight onto himself. “I’ve got the big guy.”

“I can climb a staircase,” Raine grumbles.

Grasping his hand, I hold on tight despite the way it makes my wrists twinge. “We know. Just let me help.”

“You’re hurt, guava girl. I should be the one helping you.”

“You are just by being here.”

“I wasn’t there to protect you!” His sunglass-covered eyes tilt upwards, like he’s praying to the heavens for patience. “I failed you. Again!”

“Cry me a goddamn river,” Xander drones with marked exasperation. “Get inside before having a breakdown please.”

He tilts his head in the direction of Xander’s once again lifeless voice. “Fuck you, Xan.”

“He’s right,” I placate. “We need to hide.”

“From who?” Raine shivers in my arms. “The guards? Or the patients?”

Xander releases a dry laugh. “How about both?”

I’m about to drag Raine up the damn stairs whether he likes it or not when a cacophony of screams reaches us through the night, silencing us all.

“Burn, Harrowdean! Burn it all!”

“No more!”

“Burn! Burn! Burn!”

A gaggle of patients are high on whatever riot fever is spreading from one soul to another—eyes wild, fists bloodied, uncaring of who they hurt or why we’re pushing back against the oppression at all. When violence takes root, reason soon evaporates.

Their chanting is growing ever closer. We’re vulnerable out in the open, our only source of light the now-flickering floodlights that seem to be signalling impending disaster.

“Go!” Xander barks.

Semi-carrying Lennox up the first few steps, we’re right behind the struggling pair when the patients catch up to us. It doesn’t seem to matter that we’re not dressed like guards or even a threat.

“Ripley Bennet!”

Fuck!

Lewis, an idiot from the sixth floor, recognises me. “Hey! Harrowdean’s whore!”

Without hesitating, I shove Raine forward, wincing as he trips and falls. But I won’t watch him get hurt because of me for a second time.

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