“Life can’t be lived in one place, kiddo,” Dad said with a taut frown on his brow.
“Why not? I liked the last town, why can’t we live there like normal people?” I pushed my lower lip out.
“I don’t mean physically, I mean everything is always changing, you’ll always be moving forward, time will keep passing, stuff will forever happen to you. So you have to go out there and experience the world and make the most of it, because if you don’t, life will one day come knocking on your door and you won’t like what it has to say.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “But what if I do that and life is bad? Like falling out of a tree bad.”
“Then you’ve gotta fight, kiddo,” he said fiercely. “Because life will be bad sometimes. It’ll test you and push you and you’ll want to give up, but if you do it’ll suck every drop of happiness out of you until there’s nothing left.”
“I don’t want that,” I murmured.
“So fight,” he growled, his eyes flaring. “Fight with the spirit of the warrior I know lives in you. Fight for the good days. Fight to be stronger than anything the world hurls at you, fight for what you want. Always, Tatum, always. Because no one but you can make your life what you want it to be.”
“But how do I know what I want?” I asked in a small voice. The world felt too large sometimes, like there were too many doors and windows and I didn’t know which ones to go through.
I liked the sun and the sea and playing with my sister. I liked burgers without pickles and silly emojis like squids and potatoes. But I didn’t know what I wanted from life. The question was too big. There were too many answers. And I didn’t have any.
Dad gave me a knowing smile. “You’ll know it when you find it.”
“But what if I don’t know it?” I asked sheepishly.
His smile dropped away. “Then you’ll know it when you lose it.”
“Oh,” I breathed.
“But the world is full of second chances, kiddo,” he promised. “You can make things good. Any situation. No matter how bad. It can be good again. I swear it. You’ve just gotta be brave enough to give life hell. Don’t settle for less. You’re not here to bow to the world, beautiful girl, you’re here to make the world bow to you.”
I woke like I was rising out of the deepest, darkest of waters. My eyelids were too heavy to lift and the familiar rattle of the air conditioning unit sounded as a wave of cool air gusted against my cheek. My lips were bone dry and I tried to move my tongue to wet them, but the sedatives still held me in their grip.
A buzz sounded then the door opened and voices moved into the room.
“I feel sorry for her,” a man muttered.
“I don’t,” another replied. “The world has gone to shit, Alan, and I want it back. I want my damn life back.”
“I know, I do too, Jonas. I just…” Alan sighed.
“Don’t be an idiot, she’s just one girl. Thousands of people are dying every day because of the Hades Virus. What’s one more to save the whole world?”
“I guess,” Alan gave in and my pulse beat out a grim tune. “How much longer do you think she’ll last?”
“As long as we can make her live.” A thermometer was pushed into my mouth and the cold metal bit my tongue. A beep sounded a minute later. “Jesus. Get the heating up in here. Who the hell was on the last shift?” Jonas snarled.
The air conditioning soon switched to a warm rush of air and I realised how numb I was as my fingers began to tingle with sensation again.
“I bet it was fucking Gary, he couldn’t keep a goldfish alive for an hour, let alone a girl,” Alan muttered.
“He’ll be fired before noon,” Jonas said under his breath, taking hold of my arm then a needle slid firmly into my skin.
More strength began to curl through my body, and I managed to crack my eyes open and take in the guy whose face was hidden behind a visor and a face mask beneath it. His attention was on the needle in my arm as he drew out a vial of blood. Alan was across the room gathering more vials and I clenched my jaw determinedly as I saw a small window of opportunity.
I flexed my toes, assessing the strength in my right leg as I glared at this asswipe of a human being beside me. Dad had taught me to fight no matter what. Fight for the good. Make it good, Tatum.
I lifted my leg fast and slammed the heel of my bare foot into Jonas’s groin, knocking his arm away from the syringe in the same movement. He roared in pain, stumbling back and clutching his junk.
I shoved myself up, my head spinning as I tugged the needle out of my arm then I lunged at him with the last of my strength, grabbing his white coat in my fist and knocking his visor aside as I fought to see the face of one of my captors. I coughed heavily and he shoved me to the ground with a panicked yell and my head impacted with the floor, making my skull ring like a gong.
“Stupid bitch,” Jonas spat, slamming his visor back into place while Alan looked between us in alarm, two empty glass vials still clutched in his grip.
“I’ll get the doctor.” Alan ran for the door, but Jonas caught his arm to stop him, his dark eyes swirling.
“No. We have a job to do.” He took a syringe from a tray beside him and stalked forward with murder in his eyes.
I coughed again, scrambling backwards as my strength failed me. My coughing grew heavier and I tasted blood in my mouth, swilling over my tongue like poison. Fear pulled at my heart and whispered deadly promises in my ear. I dabbed my lips with shaking fingers, my death staring back at me more keenly than ever before as they came away wet and red.
“She’s in the final stages,” Alan gasped.
“Then we’d better take what we can get.” Jonas sneered, dropping down and jamming the needle into my thigh. The sedative washed through my veins fast and my eyes locked with Jonas’s as darkness grabbed me and tried to pull me into oblivion.
Spots of blood speckled the mask he wore beneath his visor and I managed to paint on a mocking smile, aware it might be my last. If I was going to die soon, I wouldn’t let these motherfuckers see my spirit break.
“It looks like you’re coming with me to hell, Jonas,” I rasped and terror swirled in his eyes before I fell away into an endless abyss.
F our weeks. Four fucking hellish, unbearable weeks without my baby in my arms and her soul in my keeping.
I crouched behind a parked car a block away from the private research lab we were all focused on, flexing my busted knuckles and relishing the twinge of pain as the scabs cracked open across them. I probably would have broken my hand punching that damn wall if Saint hadn't stopped me, though he was sporting the mother of all bruises on his ribs in thanks for his help. I was enough of an asshole that I hadn't even apologised for that move and he was enough of a man to understand that I was sorry all the same.
I didn't deserve him. Didn't deserve any of them. But they were stuck with me and I'd do whatever I could to make my place amongst them count.
I owed Saint an apology for smacking him, I just didn't have enough good in me right now to give him one. I was blinded by the loss of our girl, just like we all were. Until she was back in our arms, I knew this violence, this tension, this unrelenting anger wouldn't do anything other than fester and spread like rot.