Page 60 of The Devil We Know

He walks swiftly now, and I work on controlling my breathing and heart, ignoring the din of voices as they slowly get quieter, eventually fading into nothing.

And then all that remains is footfalls on concrete, Matt’s breaths of exertion from carrying me, and my own shuddering breaths.

Matt’s gait falters, and I glance up to see Marieka standing in the hallway, a worried expression on her face. She asks, “Is she okay?”

Matt says nothing as he continues to rush down the hallway. Marieka falls in beside him, and I manage to croak. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Matt stops in front of his door, turns to Marieka, and says, “You need to get back to your rooms and lock yourself in. Barricade the door. Don’t open it for anyone other than me or Kaian.”

She nods, turning to go when I ask, “Is she in danger?”

“Probably,” Matt replies tersely.

“Then she can’t go,” I exclaim, suddenly struggling in his arms until he releases me. I stand there on shaky legs, calling for her, “Marieka, wait.”

She turns back, her eyes questioning, and then Matt says, “Are you sure?”

I nod, motioning for her to come back, and after a moment’s hesitation, she does. I take her hand, pulling her into the room, and then Matt follows, shutting the door behind us.

“She shouldn’t be left alone to fend for herself,” I say. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.”

Matt squints at me, then at her, and back to me as he says, “Did I miss something?”

There’s that maniacal laughter again.

I slap my hands over my mouth, and the bubble of laughter turns into more of a strangled gurgle. He shakes his head at me, and Marieka giggles as she responds, “We had a heart-to-heart.”

Matt sighs, glances up at the ceiling briefly, and mutters, “Just what the team needs: more girls.”

Now I do laugh, allowing the heat of hysteria to run up my spine as I bend at the waist, my hands braced on my thighs as I howl.

Marieka joins me. Matt stands there, staring at us both, completely dumbfounded, only fueling our hysterics.

Finally, he says, “I’m just going to give you two a minute to collect yourselves.” Then he walks away, headed toward the bathroom, where he leaves the door open. Water rushes in the sink, and Marieka and I continue to giggle for a few more moments before, finally, we manage to straighten, wiping tears from our eyes.

Marieka walks over to the chair in the corner and falls back into it. I back up against the edge of the bed, sitting down and shaking my head at how incredibly fucked up this entire mission has gone.

Matt exits the bathroom wearing a new pair of sweatpants, water droplets still on his cheeks as he moves to the dresser where he opens a drawer and pulls out a shirt before closing it.

Pulling the shirt over his head, he adjusts his clothes and says, “Do you need help getting cleaned up?”

I think for a moment, making a mental checklist of how I’m feeling, and then I shake my head and say, “I think I can do it.”

I stand slowly, getting my bearings before walking to the bathroom. He says from behind me, “Just yell if you need me.”

I turn back in the doorway, nod, and then close the door, making my way to the sink, where I lean my hands against it, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I reach down and grasp the hem of the makeshift dress, and there’s a knock on the door, and then Matt says, “It’s me.”

“Come in,” I reply, yanking the dress up over my body, crumbling it into a ball, and tossing it toward the garbage can. The door opens, and Matt appears, a pile of clothes in his hands, which he places on the counter. He looks me up and down, but he says nothing. I cock my head at him, and he just shrugs and then walks back out of the room, closing the door behind him.

I sigh, grabbing a clean towel from the pile and putting it on the hook by the large shower. I open the shower door, turn the water on, and then step inside, just outside the spray's reach, as I wait for the water to warm. I glance at the bench, warmth rushing over me as I think about our brief interlude before the nastiness that followed.

I shiver and then shake my head to rid myself of the grossness of that entire experience. I step under the spray of the water, allowing it to hit me fully in the face before turning and wiping the water from my eyes as I wet my hair. I’m probably not even dirty since Matt helped clean me up a little while ago. But it feels like it.

I wash my hair quickly, sudsing it up and rinsing it clean before grabbing the washcloth hanging on the rack.

I pick up Matt’s soap, inhaling its scent, before rubbing it along the wet cloth until there’s a lather.

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