Month after month in my room, waiting for my legs to heal, like I was a caged tiger who needed to hunt.
But I’m back. Snow has fully thawed into spring rain.
And now, I can move like I want to move.
Finally I have my life again.
I stepout onto the balcony and even before I see movement, I know there’s someone there.
My first instinct is to brace for a fight.
That’s just how Zenith works. There’s no way to tell if anyone here is looking to get an edge on you at any moment, and there’s no shot I’m letting anyone get a jump on me.
But then I see a fuzzy fleece hood on the guy looking over the railing, and I drop my defenses.
He’s so new and scared he probably couldn’t figure out how to hurt me even if he had a loaded gun in his hands.
“What do you need?” I ask him.
My voice is low as it cuts through the trickling drip of water from the eaves and the rushing sound of the fountain downstairs.
The guy jumps slightly but he tries to hide his fear as he turns to look at me, standing in the doorframe of the balcony.
I raise my hands up to grip the top of the frame.
I know how I must look.
Like a predator ready to strike, with lats and biceps that could crush skulls. I was so focused on training what I could for the past few months, and I know it shows. It feels incredible to have myheightagain, too.
He holds my gaze, surprisingly.
“Don’t need anything from you.”
His eyes flick over toward the small spiral staircase at the edge of the balcony.
He’s looking for an escape route.
He reallyisafraid of me.
Poor guy. Are you actually a Crimson student, or just a friend of a friend? How the hell did you end up at a Zenith night?
I hum and head over to the balcony railing beside him, resting my arms on the ledge.
“Well, you needed me tosaveyou, so that isn’t entirely true.”
He grips the railing, almost white-knuckling it. “I… don’t know what I need. Can I pour pure rubbing alcohol all over my body until every trace of that man is off of me? Or maybe just douse myself with lighter fluid and take a match to my skin?”
“Mm. He’s not my favorite, either. Tell me why you’re here. This place isn’t safe for people who can’t defend themselves.”
“Who says I can’t defend myself, asshole?”
I turn and lift my eyebrows even though I know he can’t see them through my mask. “Pretty sure you’re out of your depth.”
He swallows as he looks back out over the side yard.
A faint, repetitive smacking sound fills the air, most likely someone getting spanked or flogged somewhere else in the yard.
“I wanted…” the guy says, but trails off.