The ill feelings continued, along with the exhaustion. I’d never been this tired. I was going on a week now with only a few sparse hours of sleep here and there.

The nightmares when I did sleep were terrible. In many of them I was smashing an enemy’s face in just to discover they were my mom or Henry, sometimes even Mia or Vic or Sara. It made it difficult to think positively of sleep, but my mental state was degrading the longer I went without it. There were hallucinations now. Nothing extreme, mostly just flashes of movement that when I looked were nothing. Just dark shapes moving in my peripheral vision, or giant shadows stretching across the ceiling of my room at night when it was already dark. They went away if I closed my eyes for a few moments and reopened them, but it was concerning none-the-less. 

More concerning to me was my complete inability to focus on schoolwork. Every day, every class felt like I was sitting in the middle of an open field, as a deer during open-season. There was no security in this building. And it was hard to stay alert let alone pay attention to a teacher.

So my grades slipped down to the high twenties. More than one teacher pulled my aside after class to express concern, but their words didn’t really make sense in my jumbled brain. What I could glean was that they were worried about what was going on in my home-life and if I needed help with something.

I think I mumbled about being fine and just being a bit over-tired but it was hard to remember clearly.

The worst part though was that I regretted not going with Hermes. Everytime the thought came over me I felt sick. If I’d gone back to my old life at the beginning I wouldn’t have to think this hard. I’d get a contract, I’d execute it, and I’d go home to sleep and hopefully get fed, They weren’t always great about that part, but they didn’t want us to die. We were… expensive assets, as the director said. But not irreplacable.

Because I stayed, I was fighting for everything. I was getting fed every day and my stash of hidden protein bars had grown to the point I could subsist off of them for an entire week without rationing but that didn't necessarily equate to security.

I knew there was a ticking time bomb somewhere. Either inside of me or hunting me. Things weren't going to go well.

One day Mia pulled me away from the others during lunch and led me into a handicap bathroom where she locked the door.

“Tell me what's wrong,” she demanded. “I know it's something.”

I shook my head. Everything felt numb.

“Taylor, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong,” she continued.

“I don't need your help,” I told her. There was absolutely nothing she could possibly do to help me with this.

“You–” she grimaced, her face turning red. “You're so difficult,” she managed. “Not everyone is out to hurt you. I know you don't think much of me but you don't have to be so dismissive and paranoid around me.”

I was stunned. Of course I didn't think much of her when it came to helping me. I’d murdered so many people and she struggled to participate during gym class.

But that didn't mean I didn't think much of her as a whole. She was kind and caring and always put others before herself. 

“I–” but the words were to jumbled in my brain to get themselves coherent before the door to the bathroom slammed shut with a ear-splitting bang leaving me standing alone, and still paralyzed in my own thoughts.

Naturally, I tried not to think too hard about the situation. I had hurt Mia somehow. I didn’t fully understand how but it was obvious I had and it was ripping a fresh wound in my chest, bringing fresh tears to the surface that I couldn’t control. My exhaustion was so complete I couldn’t even control the emotions that normally would get filed away to be sorted out later when my life wasn’t in danger. Henry was quick to pick up on the fresh redness around my eyes and made a gesture to the roof of the house as we approached. I nodded. I needed someone to talk to. Henry knew at least some of the details about my past and present. I could be more honest with him. Mia couldn’t understand why I couldn’t accept her help but he could. Offering to help me was putting your life at risk.

He was already settled on our usual spots when I climbed out the window and took a long moment to make sure I had my balance before going over to sit next to him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I… hurt Mia’s feelings, I think. I don’t know why exactly.”

He nodded. A couple of his fingers wandered down to pick experimentally at a damaged shingle, flaking some of the old layers of gritty blackness away.

After his silence I continued. “She was asking what was wrong and demanded I let her help me. But there’s nothing she could do to help and I told her I didn’t need her help.”

Henry sighed. “She wanted to help you as your friend and you essentially told her to fuck off,” he explained.

“No, I didn’t.” I rubbed my ever so dry eyes. They were burning so bad from the salt in my tears. “The situation I’m in is dangerous. And she’s not trained or experienced or in any way equipped to handle it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not necessarily—” he stopped himself. “I don’t know Mia very well personally, but I know she’s obedient and follows the rules. She’s not the kind of person that would… go beat up someone for hurting somebody she cared about. She’s the kind of person that would go to the guidance counselor or the principal and explain the situation in great detail.”

“But…” my brain churned.

“She wasn’t offering you help like… backup. She was offering you support as a friend.”

Support me as a friend? That still meant being there for me, right? To help me face my enemies.

“It’s not that kind of support,” Henry said, seeming to read the look on my face expertly. “It’s emotional support. Like what I’m giving you right now.”

“But I already have a therapist,” I said. Said therapist was ‘very concerned’ about my lack of sleep right now, but so far hadn’t tried to readmit me to the mental hospital.

“I know you,” he said. “I don’t think you’ve told your therapist what you used to do before the police picked you up.”

“No,” I agreed. “I’m not sure how far doctor-patient confidentiality goes when it comes to murder.”

“It’s a sticky subject,” he agreed. “I don’t think she’d turn you into the police, especially since you were under duress, but it’s complicated.”

“You think Mia would understand?” I asked.

He hesitated. “Maybe. But I’m not sure. You at least owe her an apology but she might understand if you explain yourself.”

“But that doesn’t… undo the fact I hurt her,” I said. It was a lot like how my right hand could never quite flatten out all the way. I’d broken it a few too many times and it would never move naturally like it used to. I could only imagine the way emotions worked was similar. That was why I needed therapy. And why Henry sitting next to me discussing something so unphysically dangerous in such a serious way felt so liberating. Something inside me was healing, even if I didn’t know exactly how it worked.

“It’s going to be okay,” Henry said. “Hurting people sometimes, by mistake in particular, is part of being human.”

“But it hurts so bad,” I stated.

“Existence is painful,” he agreed. “I don’t know why either.”

I pulled out my phone, staring at it for a long moment.

“I’ll let you talk to her,” he said and stood.

I nodded as a farewell and let him get back inside and out of the sun currently shining annoyingly on my screen.

In the end, I decided on, “Sorry, I’m still learning. I want to make it up to you somehow.”

An: I hope everyone has a happy holiday season, I've got a few more chapter banged out, so I should be updating relatively frequently the next week or two, if all goes well. They just need to be reviewed and since I write directly before I fall asleep, proofreading and the like doesn't usually go as planned.

But we are approaching the end of the book. :( it's always such a bittersweet feeling.

If you want to see a sequel feel free to let me know. I wrote this story to be flexible in that regard so.

Anyway, thanks for reading!