Rosabelle 38
Rosabelle
“Rosabelle.”
I’ve lost my mind. I’m suddenly shaking with fear. This is why I can’t be around him. James makes me forget the real world. He makes me think I can actually lose myself in this fantasy.
I’m going home to die.
The sun is edging up against the horizon now, bruising the night sky, pushing the stars out of sight. The light is turning a faded blue through the open window, painting us in hazy bands of color.
The dream is disappearing.
I watch James straighten before me, his beautiful face caught in the soft gleam.
I can see his eyes clearly now.
Fear.
I never should’ve gotten this close to him. I can’t believe I was so reckless.
Only hours ago my mind was clear; my plans were coming into focus. I thought I might’ve finally convinced Warner to let me go back to the Ark alone.
“Baby, what just happened?”
How did this happen?
There are agents all over the continent already unleashing Klaus’s plans.
Sebastian is here, in the capital. Waiting for me.
If I don’t get back to him soon he’ll grow impatient and find a way to break out of the rehab facility.
I can’t let him loose in this world, not on his own, and definitely not with Klaus in his head. I can’t let him get close to James.
I can’t let him get close to anyone.
I already know that half the reason Sebastian hasn’t already attempted an escape is because of me—because he’s waiting for me to come back.
I have to expertly manage him, then navigate him directly off the mainland, and soon.
Otherwise he’ll find a way to slaughter a path to me before I can ever get back home to save my sister, much less the rest of the world.
I draw a sharp breath.
I don’t even know if Clara is still alive.
I push backward on the bed, trying to sit up in a panic. James has turned to concrete before me, his eyes wild and heated.
“What are you doing?” he says.
I shake my head. I feel sick. Actually sick. “I’m sorry,” I force out. “I can’t—I’m sorry—”
“You can’t what?”
I press a hand to my mouth, hating myself.
Oh God.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
My chest is cratering.
There’s so much hanging by a thread. There was a massive explosion on campus just—just hours ago—
“Rosabelle.”
I stumble off the bed, still trembling as I search the dark for my shirt. His shirt.
He’ll never understand.
James will never understand what I have to do to save him. He’ll never accept that there’s only one way to infiltrate and destroy the Ark successfully.
He’ll never let me die for him.
I pull his shirt on badly, grief rising inside me like the blade of a guillotine. I don’t know how long I have left before it takes off my head.
I back away from James, tears stinging my eyes, my right hand shaking so hard now it starts to scare me. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. When did this happen to me? When did I learn how to cry?
What has he done to me?
“I’m sorry,” I say again, my voice unsteady. “I never—I shouldn’t have—”
James is on his feet now, his chest heaving. His fear is palpable. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I—This was a mistake—”
“It’s not a mistake,” he says angrily.
I’m shaking my head. “James, I’m not—I need you to forget about me—”
“What are you talking about?” he says, reeling. “Why are you doing this?”
“I need to go home,” I say desperately. “I need to—I can’t be here. I can’t be with you. I can’t make you these promises—”
“Promises?” he explodes. “You mean you can’t promise not to put yourself in danger?”
I swallow. Tears are searing my eyes. “James. Please.”
He looks suddenly unhinged, radiating unbound power.
“Rosabelle,” he says, breathing harder. “Fuck. What are you planning? What did you do?”
I bolt for the door and push it open only to discover another room.
I stumble into a couch before righting myself against a chair.
There’s a desk in here. Bookcases everywhere.
Everything neat and organized. I search the brightening space, trying to pull my head back on and failing.
Bands of golden light push across the dusky sky, slanting through more windows, illuminating the warm, cozy depths of the room.
James is in everything.
He’s everywhere.
His things, his clothes, the scent of him on my body. His mouth on my skin. His shirt on my back.
My heart is beating so hard I feel nauseous.
My right arm is trembling so badly I have to hold it down.
Hot tears are streaking my face. I feel dizzy as I turn in a half circle, struggling to form a comprehensive assessment of my surroundings.
I’m still trying to resist my instinct to inventory the room for weapons.
The problem is, everything is a weapon. The problem is—
“Rosabelle,” he says, looking terrified as he steps toward me. “What are you planning? Why won’t you answer me?”
I back up, backing away from him blindly, and slam my hip against the corner of his desk.
I gasp in shock.
I seize in mute pain as the sensation arrows through me without anesthetic. It’s a stunning experience.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt a direct hit.
Warning bells ring through my head. Something is wrong.
It’s all gone.
It’s all gone.
Not an inch of armor. There’s nothing left of me.
“Baby—Stop—”
My body is working too hard.
The settings inside me are turned up to levels I’ve never known before. My heartbeats are loud in my ears. My head is pounding. I’m silently crying and I can’t seem to stop. I’m gasping for air.
I’ve broken.
Desk. Chair. Closet. Bathroom. I blink, unsteady. Bed. Wall. Blur. Breath.
I stumble.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Jesus, Rosabelle—”
It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about where I am. I don’t know anything about James’s living arrangements. I wipe at my tears with shaking hands. I don’t know whether he lives alone. I don’t know whether we’re still on campus—
I need clothes.
I need shoes.
“Rosabelle—”
I need—God, I need to get away from him.
I rush for another door and he grabs my hand, reeling me in, and his touch is a breathtaking shock.
Something shatters in my chest.
I go nearly blind with feeling. A tortured sound tears from my throat and I stumble back against the door, my knees buckling, and he follows me, grasping my waist, holding me upright. He pulls me close and I nearly faint from the sudden, violent rush of my heart.
I can hardly see straight.
“Baby, please,” he says desperately. “Why are you crying? Why can’t we talk about this?”
Golden sun is reaching into the room, gilding his face, setting him apart from the shadows.
I look at him like I’m out of my mind. The stunning blue of his eyes.
The unforgiving cut of his face. The soft scatter of freckles I’ve been desperate to kiss.
I can’t control the force of my heart around him anymore.
I can’t control the rush of my blood. My pulse is out of control.
I feel frantic and unsteady, panic coursing through my body.
I’m so alive I’ve swung back around to death.
“James,” I gasp. “James, I can’t—”
“You can’t what? Why can’t you give me a straight answer?”
“You’ll never—you’ll never accept my answer,” I force out, silent tears still tracking fast down my face. “And I’m not willing to compromise.”
I watch his fear collide with panic.
“What are you talking about?” he says. “What are you trying to protect me from? You can’t make unilateral decisions about my safety—”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you fucking can’t—”
“You have to live,” I tell him, my voice breaking. Tears are burning my skin. “You live, or no one lives.”
“What?” He exhales so hard his chest caves in. “You can’t—Baby, you can’t say things like that to me. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean—”
I’m shaking my head. “It means I care about you,” I say tightly. “So much.”
“You care about me?” he says, reaching for my face. “Rosabelle, I love you—”
Pain spears me like a blade.
Excruciating agony drives up my bad arm with blinding force, and I cry out as the torture amplifies, shock waves radiating through my nervous system. I nearly fall to my knees.
James shouts my name.
He releases me in shock and I slump back against the door. His eyes are wild. Petrified. “What the hell just happened?”
My temperature is skyrocketing.
My heart is pushing too hard. The pain is now unrelenting, an unchecked wildfire. I’m getting dizzier.
I can hardly speak.
I need air.
I reach for the door handle blindly, pushing it open without warning, and we both stumble into the hall, nearly tumbling to the ground. I manage to get my feet under me and take a full breath before backing up desperately, struggling to look around.
The echo of his voice swells and retreats in my mind, haunting me.
Rosabelle, I love you
I don’t know where I am.
Rosabelle, I love you
I’m standing in a long hall that seems to connect separate wings of a house, fresh daylight spilling in from both sides. These tears won’t stop. My hands are still shaking. I have to figure out how to get out of here. I have to come up with a new plan—I have to—
“Rosabelle.”
James’s tortured voice stops me in my tracks. My response is instinctive; automatic. I turn toward him like a flower seeks the sun, and the sight of his face knocks me off my axis.
I stumble.
“Why are you running away from me?” he says, his voice catching. The devastation in his eyes rips my heart to pieces. “What the hell is happening?”
He moves as if to come to me, and I shake my head in alarm.
“No,” I cry. “Please—I can’t—”
“You can’t just leave,” he says forcefully.
The resonance of his voice seems to shake the halls of my mind. Another shock of pain shatters up my bad arm and this time I scream, catching myself against the wall.
In my fevered mind, I think I hear the sound of a baby crying.
James runs toward me and I shrink back. I don’t know why it gets worse when he touches me. I have no idea what’s—what’s happening to me—
“Don’t—” I try to say. “Please—”
“Baby, let me help you—”
My mind is hot, my body is unstable. My skin feels raw. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure it’ll kill me. My brain seems to spark and flare over and over. Relentless, torturous electrical pulses seem to be frying me alive, building toward a lethal crescendo.
What’s happening to me?
“What on earth is going on?”
Warner’s voice.
I blink and turn and it takes forever. I can’t understand how he’s here. I don’t know where he came from. Light streaks and fades. My skin is burning.
My brain is burning.
I think I’m on fire.
“What’s happening to her?” Warner demands. He looks from me to James and my eyes nearly roll back in my head.
“I don’t know,” James says desperately. “It just came out of nowhere—”
There’s a baby crying.
I can really hear it now, the cries getting louder. It sounds so real.
I must be going insane.
I blink, sinking back against the wall. The scene is starting to blur at the edges. Every time James so much as looks in my direction I feel it like an electric shock.
“Rosabelle,” Warner says, turning to me. “Tell me what’s happening to you.”
I clench my bad fist as tightly as I can, trying to control the tremors, but it’s no use.
I can feel myself getting weaker.
When I don’t respond, Warner walks right up to me, bending to look me in the eye. “I don’t care where you have to go in your head to find the strength,” he says sharply, “but you need to answer me. Now.”
I look up at him as if through a haze of fire.
I can hardly see him. My brain feels like it’s being incinerated. My skin feels like it’s separating from my body. The pain is in my teeth, down my throat, tearing apart my heart.
My voice is a raw whisper. “I think I’m dying.”
“What?” James recoils.
One word from him detonates an explosion in my head.
Fresh flames close over me. His panic reaches inside me and shatters my ribs.
“What—Rosabelle—” I feel him rush forward. “What are you talking about?”
My knees finally give out.
I slide down the wall.
James catches me before I hit the ground, and when he pulls me into his arms the pain escalates so fast I audibly scream.
The room around me tilts, dissolving into sudden chaos. I hear voices and shouts, a flood of movement.
I’m blind.
Still screaming.
I’m being burned alive.
Agony is teeth tearing at my bad arm, rocketing electric shocks through my blood.
“Get her out of here,” Warner shouts. “I’ll meet you underground as soon as I can—”
I fight to strangle my own screams, forcing the sounds back down my throat. I’m trying desperately to pull myself together but I don’t know what’s happening.
I can’t seem to control this.
I’m dimly aware of the arms around me, the sound of his breath, the hammering beat of his heart, his running footfalls. His desperate voice in my ear—
Rosabelle, baby, please
I love you
Time feels strange; I can’t define its borders.
“Holy shit. What’s happening to her?”
“—just collapsed—”
Wake up
Rosabelle
Please
“What happened?”
“What happened?”
Wake up
Please wake up
“Still no response—”
“How long has she been—”
Tremors rock my body relentlessly.
The fever rises to an unsurvivable pitch.
“Heart rate is impossibly high—” Wake up
“What happened?”
I love you
“What happened?”
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
Where am I?
“Her arm is bleeding!”
Wake up
“—unresponsive to light and sound—”
“What—?”
Where am I?
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but based on her vitals, she shouldn’t have a pulse right now—”
“—happened?”
Wake up
“Where? Why did she—”
“—fever should’ve killed her by now.”
“—arm still bleeding?”
Where am I?
“What—”
Wake up
“What happened?”
“—happened?”
Please
I love you
Wake up
Please
Rosabelle