Death Touch novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Skin

Forrest sat on the edge of his bunk with his shirt off and a bottle of water in his hand.

He looked up when I pushed the door open, and his face went hard.

"Go back to bed, Hargett."

"No."

"I'm not asking."

"You've been awake every night I've been here." I shut the door behind me. "I hear you walking."

"I'm your handler."

"You're twenty-four."

I stood in the middle of his small room with my gloves on.

"I'm eighteen. I turned eighteen in August, it's in the file you read."

My voice did not shake.

"I'm not a child, and I walked in here on my own legs."

"You're a senior in my school."

"You're not a teacher. You're a soldier who was told to stand next to me, and I'm telling you what I want."

His jaw worked.

"What do you want?"

My voice went small and honest.

"I want to know what it feels like when nothing dies."

He put the water down.

It took him a long time to stand up.

When he did he was close enough that I had to tip my chin to see him.

The black lines on his arm climbed past his shoulder, vivid under the lamp.

"This is a mistake," he said, low.

"Then tell me to leave."

He said nothing.

I pulled off my left glove, finger by finger, and then the right, and dropped them both on the floor.

He watched my hands the whole time.

His breathing had changed.

"Forrest."

"Tell me to stop," he said roughly.

"Don't stop."

His hand closed around my bare wrist.

The pull in me rose, and then, like every time before, it went still.

It went quiet.

I gasped.

"There," he muttered. "Feel that?"

"Yes."

"That's the only reason you're safe."

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