Through the Zombie Glass. Gena Showalter

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      How many other changes would I be forced to endure?

      Everything changed. The world. The seasons. Time. People. Nothing and no one ever stayed the same. Accepting another change should be easy. After all, even I would change. One day, I would forget about Cole and the feelings I had for him. I would move on.

      And so would he.

      He would date another girl.

      My gaze drifted to the picture I kept on my nightstand. Kat had snapped it when I’d been too distracted to know anyone else was around. In it, Cole stood behind me, his arms wrapped around me. His chin rested on top of my head, and he appeared utterly content. I was smiling with the dreamy confidence of a girl rushing headlong into love.

      Love.

      I refused to love him.

      I picked up the photo and launched it across the room, my new heart racing with dangerous speed, my lungs burning, no longer able to pull in enough oxygen—as if something inside me was stealing it. My stomach curled into a ball and hardened into iron—but the iron was hollowed out and desperate to be filled. I was hungry again, so danged hungry...but not for food. For... I wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, I needed it.

      Now.

      A high-pitched ringing scraped at my ears. Sweat broke out over my brow and my palms and trickled down my back. The room spun around and around, my equilibrium shot, and I flailed for balance...tilting anyway...and felt a sharp sting against my entire right side. I must have fallen to the floor.

      Help me, I tried to call, but no words emerged. My heart sped up, faster and faster. My lungs constricted far more tightly, the burn intensifying. My hands and feet mutated into blocks of ice.

      I...was dying? I had to be dying.

      I crawled to the desk, reached blindly for my phone and knocked down the lamp. Glass shattered on the floor.

      Had to text Co—no, Nana. Yes, Nana. She would come. She would take care of me—she loved me. But I couldn’t see the keypad. The room was still spinning.

      Hinges squeaked. “Ali? Are you okay? What happened to your room?”

      Male voice. I recognized it. Mr. Ankh?

      Help, I tried to say, but again, no sound emerged.

      Footsteps. Strong arms slid underneath me, lifted me. I floated for a few seconds before the mattress pressed into my back.

      “Is it the toxin?” he asked, even as he stuck me in the neck with a needle. Yes, it had to be Mr. Ankh. Like the rest of us, he carried the antidote in his pocket, just in case.

      A cool stream raced through my veins, and the hunger simmered.

      “Breathe,” he said gently. “In. Out. Yes, just like that. Again. Again.” Hands smoothed over my brow, offering comfort I so desperately needed. “Again.”

      At last, my heart...hearts...began to slow. My lungs began to fill. The sweat stopped pouring, and the chill kissed me goodbye.

      I blinked open my eyes, and saw Mr. Ankh sitting at the side of my bed. Concern bathed his still-handsome features.

      “That wasn’t just about the toxin, was it?” he asked, the concern giving way to sympathy.

      I remained silent.

      “Has that ever happened before?”

      “Wh-what?” Almost dying?

      “A panic attack?”

      Panic attack? No. “That’s not what just happened.” I’d weathered the death of my family. A breakup wouldn’t ruin my mental stability. I wouldn’t let it.

      “Ali, sweetheart, I’m a doctor. More than that, for several years I was married to a woman with an anxiety disorder. I know a panic attack when I see one.”

      Anxiety disorder. No. Not that, either. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice ragged. “Just tired.”

      His smile was sad. “Did something happen to trigger it?”

      Something like losing the other part of me? “I told you I’m fine,” I replied stiffly, then regretted my tone. He was being nice, trying to help me. He didn’t deserve my rancor.

      He sighed, pushed to his feet. “The more you know about the triggers, the better you’ll handle the episodes. If you ever want to talk about it...”

      “I don’t. I won’t. I’m fine, really.”

      “All right. Well, don’t worry about the room. I’ll send someone up to clean.”

      “No! No,” I said more gently. “I’ll take care of it.”

      A pause, then, “If that’s what you prefer.” Like Cole, he left the room.

      Left me alone.

      My new heart sped up all over again.

      * * *

      I righted the furniture and cleaned the room, even patched the hole in my wall. The one Cole had caused. It had reminded me of him, and I wasn’t fond of reminders right now. I threw our picture in the trash.

      The next week passed in a daze. Every day I had to bury my emotions as deep as they would go and pretend everything was peachy, just to make it through school. Kat and Reeve treated me the same; they had no idea Cole and I had broken up. I hadn’t told anyone, and for some reason, neither had he. I think the girls were onto me, though, and I expected questions very, very soon.

      I stayed away from Cole’s gym and worked out with Kat in Mr. Ankh’s. I still hadn’t been put on rotation, but I hadn’t pushed because the zombies hadn’t made another appearance.

      I wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping.

      I couldn’t go on like this.

      “Emma,” I said as I burrowed under my covers. “Emma.” I needed my baby sister.

      I wasn’t sure how much time passed before she materialized in the center of my room.

      “Oh, Ali.” She stretched beside me on the bed, ghosting her hand through my hair. Somehow she calmed me, the weird heartbeat evening out, the hunger pains that always seemed to hover at the edge of my conscious ebbing. “I hate seeing you like this.”

      “I’m better now that you’re here.”

      “I’m glad. And I’m glad you called me.” Her dark eyes were luminous as she said, “Would it help to know I’ve been watching Cole? He’s miserable, too.”

      “Maybe,” I said with a sniffle. “Why have you been watching him?”

      “I think he’s spying on the other slayers.”

      Why would he do that? He trusted the people around him, everyone СКАЧАТЬ