Chapter 11

Sevina

My mind heats with thoughts I don’t want to consider and I don’t try to clear this mess even if most of Corrin’s life has faded and only the most vivid details remain.

Rovy and Mrs. Brice dead on the floor.

A woman in white sheets lifts her hands at me.

A trunk without air…

Paranoid months blurring by on the street.

And pain— the kind I’ve never felt before, pain I’m incapable of describing and know will stay in my memory forever. Just like Will’s guilt.

Corrin is the killer. The one who aimed the barrel. For what? To satisfy his ambition? To follow in the footsteps of malevolent people? But for the first five seconds after I met his eyes I felt what it’s like to be him, to lose more than the people one loves. Even if it was accidental, by agreeing to carry out the task he lost his humanity.

Corrin has spent the past half hour in my bathroom and when the door finally creaks open I turn to him standing shirtless in the hall. It would take some effort to compare him to the kid I saw two months ago. He’s twice as slim with dark circles under his eyes and cheekbones sharp on his shaved face. His ponytail has disappeared, wet hair fanning out at ear-length.

“You don’t mind that I,” he waves his hand around his face, “cleaned myself?” I wonder if he used my razor or his knife to shave and cut his hair? It would be awkward if I asked, at least for him.

“No.”

“Where should I put all this?” He lifts his dirty drapes. I linger on him holding his bundle, his cry still ringing in my head and suppressing any anger. He sniffs and stares off to the side, apprehensive to meet my gaze.

“Put it somewhere. Don’t ask me every single question,” I snap, rougher than intended. I press the ice towel to my hurting head and settle on the sofa. “Feel… like you’re at home.” What else can I say to take the edge off of his restlessness? He’s not the mastermind. He’s a victim of one, a tool in the sick games of the fidgety man with a little scar on his jaw.

Corrin takes his pile back to the bathroom and starts washing it. I’ll have to demand my paper for all the water he wastes.

My cellphone rings. It’s Will and she wants to meet. We’ve met two times in an inconspicuous diner down the road and she’s the only person I’ve had a decent conversation with since Rovy died. Though I stopped looking into her eyes I bet I’m the only one on her side either.

Usually, I’m eager to see her, but I dread this meeting.

I decide to leave Corrin in my apartment. “I’ll be back,” I tell him as I grab my backpack. He’s harmless. For now all I feel for him is indifference, but it’ll change as more detail of his life evaporate from my head.

“Uh, you don’t want me to leave?” He peeks at me, his wet shirt in his hands.

“I don’t care.” I grab my keys and slam the door.

I near the diner, a tiny two-story building among all the high rises, the smell of hotdogs and sandwiches making my mouth water.

Will waits at the far end behind a small white table with brown seats, a glass of yellow spirit in her hand. She continues drinking, but her face isn’t as plump as when I last saw her. She must’ve eased off on the booze for a couple of days.

Letting my backpack slide down my shoulder I sit in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So, what’s new?” I ask in haste, eliciting a scowl on her face.

Her eyes size me up and her thin eyebrow jumps. “What’s new with you?” Despite her being suspended her observational skills are intact. “You sound different.”

“Different?” I murmur.

“Swift, without your casual indifferent side. Even your hi resembled a squeak.”

“Indifferent side, huh?” I chuckle to myself. I should’ve lowered the pitch in my voice. “It’s nothing. Some things have happened.”

She takes a sip, watching me. “What things?”

I itch to tell her that in my apartment I have the man who murdered our loved ones, that I know who he is and how the crime occurred, that Corrin’s family is responsible for those deaths and Will ratted to one of their men.

But I know better.

If Will learned this it would provoke hatred Hell itself has never faced, the kind of reckless hatred which puts people in trouble. She would kill Corrin and then what? Spend the rest of her life in prison, or at the very least realize what she’s done—like Corrin has— and drink herself to death? I don’t want to lose Will, too.

“The Foster care is sending in another girl to live with me.”

“Maybe that’s not too bad, huh?” She says. “You need people to talk to.”

I poke the table with my thumb. “I know. I want to. But it’s… us… all over again.” It would be too excruciating to make friends with someone afresh.

“There is no us, Sevs. We’re just two people who bonded over death. Simple as that.” Will shrugs.

So that’s what she thinks. My fingers curl into a fist. “Why did you call me?”

“To tell you I won’t be able to see you anymore, at all.”

“What?” Will swirls the liquid in her glass. “You’ve gone back, haven’t you? With the wrong people, again?” She’s silent and I lean back in my seat. “Crap, Will. What were you thinking?” I try to catch her eyes, but she averts them.

“As I already said, they do own me,” she replies.

“I know, but Will, this is stupid. You’ve got to go the police, address the authorities! You can’t let them win!” I reign in myself when I notice a few people glance at us.

“I am the police,” she evades, then narrows her eyes at me. “Do you think I’m the only one?”

“There’re tons of people like you, I know, I’m not stupid, but someone has to do something.”

She chuckles at my resolve. “Sure, we’re all very clever and we all gotta do something. That’s what all of them say,” she pauses, “but no one wants blood on their hands. Not sane people, anyway. I’m suspended, on the brink of being fired. I need to support myself, Sevs.”

“And you will die working for them, sooner or later.” I assemble the bits and pieces I have left from Corrin’s head. Those two people he saw shot might’ve had the same roles as Will had, or will have.

“Is it the same man you worked for? The same family?” I ask after a pause.

“None of your business.”

I scoff. “Will, I’m trying to help.” I loathe my uselessness, especially when I earn to do something.

“Help? Again?” She cackles. “You’re a little piece of shit, like me. There’s nothing you can do to help. Nor should you try.” She leans closer, finally giving me a shot at her eyes. I hold my breath as I meet them. For five seconds I understand her and, to my surprise, realize I’d do the same thing.

She squeezes her glass in both hands. “I’ll be honest with you, Macelaw.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“You don’t want to end up where I am, trust me.” Her face is grim.

“Fine.” I rise. “Good luck with getting yourself killed,” I whisper-hiss at her as I grab my backpack, clenching its straps for comfort. I won’t be looking at people for a very long time now.

“Hey, don’t walk out on me like that.” Will’s eyebrows arch with subdued anguish, but I’ve had enough of her rigid, defeated attitude.

I stroll out and she stays behind the table. Will’s the type who flows with the current. Instead of finding a way to beat the injustice she chooses to snitch again. They asked her to come back and fearing others and her own safety she agreed. I understand that. But by doing so she supports the same cause that killed her kin, believing she can prevent it! She doesn’t know what the new job will be yet. If she’s suspended she won’t be able to cover any murders. What if she has to kill? What will she do then?

I walk off my steam and buy some extra insta-noodles. All the paper I had saved is running out faster than it should.

When I step into my apartment I find Corrin lying on the sofa on his back, wearing one of his brown t-shirts. I thought he’d be gone by now.

He blinks at me slowly with his murky eyes, then stares at the ceiling.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I can’t sleep. Sevina, why aren’t you angry? I mean… I killed them.”

I slide the door closed as I try to formulate a response. His hand took their lives, it’s true, but it wasn’t his fault… Partly, it was mine. I could’ve prevented it if I had listened to that flame inside me, if I looked into Corrin’s eyes when I was tempted, if I… wasn’t a coward.

“You wouldn’t have killed.” I sit on the chair by the couch and notice a gun on the table. “Think about it. Would you’ve shot either of them if you didn’t have that reflex to protect yourself? If Rovy hadn’t attacked you first?”

Corrin cringes as if someone jabbed a needle into his chest. I shouldn’t have described it so vividly. He’s still dealing with the post-traumatic stress after all.

Though after I looked into his eyes I memorized what has happened in the restaurant and after by the sheer horror of it, I now consider it a passive data without any emotional attachment. I would need to meet his eyes again to feel what he feels, which I have no desire to do. I passed out from the overload and almost puked in the bathroom when I witnessed all the death for the first time, endless pain twisting him every second of his existence.

“But I believed...” He doesn’t face me or doesn’t dare to. “I went there out of my own accord.”

“You got used,” I say. “I’ve seen what happened to you. Your father and brother painted a fine picture. Kill someone? No big deal. Maybe they did it on purpose. To keep you interested?”

“Please, stop,” he bites out, pleading. I close my mouth. I got carried away, knowing more information than I should.

I soften my tone. “I know all the reasons and struggles behind your actions. I know you were conflicted. I’m not angry.” I don’t believe what I say so rigidly anymore. His turmoil wore off long ago, allowing resentment to take its place. He went to the restaurant that night out of his own volition and he was eager to be there, but if I look at his situation from an emotionless point of view, he did it because he was pressured and inculcated that way by his family.

“Thanks,” he replies without facing me.

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I leave him be and follow my daily routine, cleaning and making some insta-noodles. I bring a bowl to Corrin to avoid him stealing my crackers later on. He thanks me again, but remains quiet afterward.

As soon as his clothing dries I’m sending him on his merry way. He’s the least of my problems. After I find a way to help Will, perhaps then I’ll bring him justice. For now I need to address the authorities. But what will they do? Corrin’s father pays off tons of people. If I spoke to law enforcement it’d become too public, too loud…

Corrin falls asleep just as I want to ask him to move his ass from my sofa. I sit at my desk, browsing the web for a job until it’s dark and my head begins to throb. One good thing from seeing Corrin’s life was that his turmoil distracted me from the drunk who slammed me into the wall. That man was an asshole, but not a murderer. His life was light, a half of it missing due to years spent piss drunk. That’s probably why, once first wave of impact has passed, I was able to concentrate enough to hit him and not drown in regrets he feels in his miserable life.

Corrin murmurs something under his nose and spreads out, his arms and legs akimbo. I turn my attention to him.

He… He killed them. Even if he’s spent two months on the streets he’s one of those nasty thugs who doesn’t deserve to be among us—the hardworking people, the survivors.

My heart hammering against my ribcage, I place my digital pad on the table and take a gun lying next to it, weighing it in my both hands. Quite heavy. I’ve never held one with the possible intention of shooting a living being, but I’ve seen enough people’s lives to know how it works. The safety ticks as my finger forces it from its position. This gun hasn’t killed anyone, not while in the drunks possession anyway, from what I remember.

Slowly, I point the barrel at Corrin’s head. His chest heaves, trembles shaking him like a freezing dog.

Kill him and run. Leave a note for Will that it was him who took Rovy and his mother from us and I did the job for her.

But no one wants blood on their hands, not sane people anyway. No matter my hideous abilities I am, and always was, sane. If I shoot I’ll be like Corrin, like Will. It wouldn’t achieve a damn thing but another dead body. I’d be filled with regret, perhaps waiting to die alone in prison, and the loop would loop on.

With a sharp sigh I put the gun back and rub my temples. Could I kill him?

No.

Revenge is not the answer.

I doze off for a bit until Corrin begins murmuring in his sleep. I’m used to all the noise coming from the outside, but his throttling gasps and jerks are annoying. I put my head between my bent arms, but he shouts out something resembling a call for help and squirms to the side.

“Hey?” I reach for his shoulder and squeeze it. His head jerks sideways and before I know it his hand grabs mine, pulling me from my chair.

With all his power he shoves me to the ground.

“The crackers!” I yell out as I ineptly fall on my side.

Knife in one hand he freezes, standing above my legs, deep blue eyes full of raw survival terror. “What?”

It’s how it occurred on that day; I got thrown to the dirty ground like this and shadows surrounded me from every direction. One of the kids stood above me and dozens of feet landed in thuds against my body…

“You ate my crackers.” I inch away from him, extending my palm in a stopping motion. I remember him feeling guilty about eating my food. It’s a harmless memory, but might snap him back. “Don’t hurt me.”

When he’s in the right state of mind he’s harmless, but his dreams are dangerous.

“Oh, God.” His breath hitches, awakening with reason. “I’m so sorry.” He steps off of me, hiding the knife, and extends his hand.

I don’t acknowledge his gesture as I get up, so he backs away to the opposite wall to give me space. “Sevina, I’m so terribly sorry.” He apologizes at least five times until I tell him to stop, then says he can’t take this hole anymore and needs some fresh air before plodding out the door to the roof.

He doesn’t return for the entire night so in the morning I take an elevator to the roof to see if he’s still there or has jumped off. I pass some neighbors smoking right outside the door. They often gather here for smokes and drinks.

Corrin’s at the far end of the roof, leaning on the ledge. At my approach he turns his shoulder and shrinks in on himself. “I’m sorry, I attacked you.”

“Forget it.”

“I slept here.”

“I figured.”

He studies the other buildings on the street. “Right, I suppose there’s no point in saying anything anymore.”

“It’s not like that.”

“So how does it work—the eye thing?” Curiosity overtakes his expression.

I poke the ledge with my thumb. “It’s hard to explain. First I need three seconds of eye contact with either one eye—”

“But what if a person flicks his eyes, you know? From one to another? Really fast?”

“Eye flicker works too as long as the eyes stay between mine,” I say. “Then—”

“What about blinking though?”

I level him with a glare and he reins in his curiosity. “Sorry. Continue.”

“Fast blinking doesn’t stop it,” I answer. “So, after three seconds it all hits me.”

“A person’s life hits you? So do you see it like a movie?”

“More of an instant knowing. An upload in a fraction of a second. Recent memories and events that impacted said person’s life are always stronger and more memorable.”

He presses on. “You said for five seconds you feel it all?”

“Yes.” I tip my chin. “Three seconds to establish the contact, then for five seconds I feel the summary of the person’s essence, plus the emotional state currently present.”

He peeks at me. “Wow. Is it why you fainted?”

I gape, remembering the fact. His life was so heavy my brain couldn’t hold it all in and simply shut down. It’s the first time this has happened, but then I haven’t looked into the eyes of a murderer before. “It was too much.”

“All right.”

“When this… wave of feeling passes, the overall taste remains. Memories, skills and hard-learned knowledge—it lasts for around twenty minutes. Then it begins fading, like a dream. A lot of what I recall is random, and the length of it depends from case to case too, on the person I look at, emotions, my emotional and physical state.” At least that’s what I figure. “But it usually fully fades in two days or so if I don’t memorize anything deliberately.”

Corrin turns his head, failing to conceal his amusement. “All right,” he gapes, then frowns. “You said skills?”

“Like if you can drive, I can drive,” I sigh. Corrin flattens his lips, unable to respond.

I never thought of all people I would be telling him my secret. But I felt so lost yesterday after he brought me home I didn’t care anymore. Without proof no one’s gonna believe him anyway.

“The things I would do with this kind of power,” he whispers almost to himself, more hopeful than sinister. “I wonder what those scientists did. How it all works? You know, there must be something in you, maybe in all of us, that allows you to access all this data in someone’s brains. Through your eyes. It’s amazing.”

I shrug it off. “Does it matter?”

“No, it doesn’t really. Were you born like that? Has anyone else known and what did they say? Did it happen in some kind of a lab?”

He can’t tell when he’s going too far like I can’t when I’m too straight forward. “I don’t know.” I lean on the ledge with my back and look the other way. I avoid thinking about my past, about what could’ve happened to me that I wound up in Havason with no memories. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Ever.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he pauses, breathing in, “I want to go back into my family. Somehow, I want to stop this.” He talks in a raspy tone as if he hasn’t spoken for a long time, which he hasn’t, but with a deep undercurrent of sobriety flowing through his words. “You already know that.” I had my assumptions. But he didn’t seem to be able to form a coherent thought. And I didn’t care.

“He’ll kill you.” I watch a smoking bunch stomp cigarettes into the ground and leave the roof. “Like he did the others.”

“Maybe, but it’s my family. My brother is there. My mother… died, believing I can do better. Countless people follow my father’s orders.” He rests his elbows on the ledge and sinks his fingers into his hair. “Maybe… maybe I can talk sense into him. Do it peacefully.” He searches my face.

“Don’t be so naïve.” I cross my arms on my chest. “You’ve experienced it all first hand. He’s a crime lord. He runs the family. You can’t expect anything more than that.”

He jerks his head to the side as if picking up on something. “You sound angry.”

“I’m not.” I push out the words. “I’m… remember Will? The detective who slammed you down?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she and I became friends, sort of. It’s because of her you got your targets. And now she went back with the wrong people again, with your father.”

Corrin pushes away from the ledge. “What?”

I tell him the whole deal. The families of lawyers and governmental people his father murdered while he searched for something and that Will helped to cover the murders for a decent amount of pay, that after it got too extreme she wanted out and that’s the reason why Corrin’s trial’s targets were her family.

“But if it was important, why would he send me?” Corrin thinks out loud without looking at me, for which I’m grateful.

“He must’ve had big anticipations,” I let out the first words that pop to mind and inwardly curse myself out.

“Ouch,” he says nonchalantly, his face lacking any zest or offense.

“It couldn’t have been that important,” I continue. “There has to be at least a dozen other people in similar situations like Will.” Does he want to break them? Make them dependable? It makes sense. Broken people are much easier to steer. Will admitted to it herself.

Corrin sighs. “Even more… deaths.”

I agree silently and say, “I‘m trying to help Will. She’s being a jerk about it and I’m doing my best to keep her together every time I see her. What sucks most is we can’t do shit about this situation we’re in—“

Corrin’s loud scoff makes me swallow my words. He totters around, almost biting his fist.

I lift my brow. “You okay?”

“No! Of course, I’m not!” He steps to me, turning his palms outward. “Sevina, don’t you get it? You can do anything! Everything!” His hands almost land on my upper arms, but I brush them off.

“Don’t touch me.”

He apologizes and steps back. “Do you realize how useful this ability is?”

It’s easy for him to say when the only life he has to deal with is his. I look at my feet. “That man grabbed me and I couldn’t do anything.”

“We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t thrown that gun to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Left me.”

He sniffs. “Uh, maybe… but that’s not the point. The point is that I had two months to collect myself. I’ll be going back and I’ll do anything in my power to stop my father and get control of my family,” he pauses, lingering on my face. “It would be twice as easy with you, though.”

I’m stunned. “You want me to come with you?”

He cracks a weak smile as he tries to find a place for his hands, finally stuffs them in his pants pockets.

So my powers is a tool for his personal gain. But is it just personal? He’s willing to sacrifice his own life to solve the problem.

But it’s insane! Go with him? Help him take his place? Bring down his Father? How is he going to do that, I wonder? And how would I help? By extracting useful information, I guess? What an insane idea…

On the other hand with the help of my contrasting abilities, as he states, this is my chance to try and change things. This is my chance to help Will. Maybe even save other people.

“Do you have a plan?” I glance at him.

He scrunches his face. “I can’t walk in…”

“No shit.”

“I can’t go to the police either.”

“You don’t’ say.”

Corrin clears his throat. “I… ugh. Dan, my brother, is my best opportunity. If I could find him, I could convince him to do something about what’s happening in our family.”

“Your brother killed too,” I say.

“Yes, but he followed orders. He’s a decent man, well, as decent as men in the mafia go. I know he thinks what Father does is wrong. I could convince him to rise to Father, make him listen to reason.”

“You’d probably need to do it by keeping your father at a gun point.”

Corrin tightens his lips. “Probably, but at least Dan would be a better boss. He always wanted it. If he was as bad as Father he would’ve killed me instead of saving me. And if Father refuses to resign, you’ll look at him and get all the intel we need to make Dan and me in charge.”

I take a few minutes to think, or rather inwardly tremble through the gathering fear. What if I faint? But what if I don’t? I‘ve looked Will in the eyes more than once and it feels like the more I look the less it affects me.

There’s no way I’m going with him. “And how would you find Dan?”

“If only I knew where he lives or how to find him without alerting my father. If Father learns I’m alive he might kill Dan since he failed to follow his orders.”

“You have to start from the streets,” I suggest. “The gang that wanted to take you in and you ran away from. They’re working for the mob?”

“I think it’s connected somehow. They needed able-bodied people. Who would the jobs be for other than the mafia? I could begin doing jobs with them, see what families they work for and try to track Dan from there. I could do that right?” He peeks at me, both, scared and determined.

I want to say he’ll succeed, but I can’t know. And, honest, I don’t think he will.

When I don’t answer Corrin reassures himself without my help. “You can do it, you can,” he whispers under his nose. I guess, over the months of loneliness he begun talking to himself.

He turns his head to me. “So, will you help me?”

I push away from the ledge, heading back to my apartment. “I’ll think about it.”

…

I lay on my sofa with my eyes shut, hugging my pillow and drifting between the sea of choices. Somehow in my imagination I end up at the Chinese bar with Rovy. He slurps his noodles and babbles on about leaving the city.

“Let’s leave,” I say to him. “You and I.”

When I wake the next morning, I find Corrin asleep on the ground by the wall. Apprehensive about approaching him unarmed, I get a fork and poke his leg with it. He mumbles in his sleep but does not jolt awake until I poke him harder, a flash of startled awareness crossing his face when he sees the utensil. “Just a fork.” I open my palms. He calms and leans against the wall, anticipation stirring in his eyes. I sigh.

“It’s too crazy.” Somehow I think I owe him an explanation. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I know we might save countless lives, but I’m shit scared, man. There are lots of bad people out there. Seeing them, being in the streets, unprotected— I don’t think I can do this.” I sound decrepit and uncertain, but it’s a first time I honestly express what I feel.

“No one but you can do it, Sev, I mean, Sevina,” Corrin says.

“Will said she might wind up at the Lawless Lake if she went against them. I… we, might too.”

Corrin gathers his thoughts. “I might wind up at the lake. But with your powers, the odds of that happening decrease a lot. You have no idea how powerful you are.” His deep breathing and arched eyebrows speak for themselves, conveying deep and honest hope.

“Am I really?” I lift my hand to my heart. “There is this… flame… an annoying temptation in my chest. I want to do something, but each time it breaks me.” That must’ve come out awkward, but how else do I explain it?

“It did not break you when you saved us from those men.” Corrin leans in closer, but not too close.

“Look, we’re all petrified of people like my father, of things that happen and can happen to everyone. No one does anything because no one can. But you…You can help me change things. Big time.”

I gulp. Do I want to go through more people’s lives again and again? No, times infinity and beyond. But do I want to help Will and other people? Yes. And maybe achieve a little bit of justice.

My shoulders drop and I can’t force myself to let out a positive answer. “I can’t.”

Corrin gathers his stuff and leaves. No tantrum, no nothing. I bet if I looked into his eyes I’d see genuine resolve. He has a debt he feels he’s responsible to pay whether I help or not. He’s one person against it all with no powers to aid him.

I graduated, so I can go and explore that world. After all, if I address the authorities what are my chances at succeeding? I have no idea how our city works. It would mean nothing for them to shut up a pipsqueak like me if the wrong people got the wind of my statement; they’d snatch me from the street and that’d be the last of me.

It’s not smart. My plan.

Corrin has a vague understanding of the world beyond Coats, understanding that will be wasted since the chances of him achieving his goal alone are close to nonexistent.

But they could be better if I were there.