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He can barely see further than an ordinary person… how are my eyes so sharp?

Even though this is the evidence I’ve been craving, I dismiss it before I can get my thoughts tangled up in it.

I don’t want to ponder witch powers right now. I have to figure out a way to talk to Shane after what happened.

“Hyacinth!” he says, hurrying towards me. He holds out his hands as if he’s going to hug me, but when I shuffle back, he stops at the last moment, giving me a wary look.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” I say. “I fell, but I’m not really hurt.”

“You took off so fast. What happened?”

“Something you said,” I reply, my voice low. “It just reminded me of a bad experience I had. I lost my cool.”

“Like… a panic attack?”

“Kind of, yeah. It’s just a reflex I’ve always had when I get scared. I run away.”

As the words leave my mouth, I realize how true they are, and more shame piles on top of my heart.

Great. Guilt over my coping mechanisms being added to my trauma. Just what I need.

“Okay…” Shane says. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No,” I answer.

He tilts his head a little, and I realize he still can’t see me very well.

“We should get back,” he says, stepping towards me with his hand out. “We can talk about this when we get home.”

I look at his hand as if it’s a venomous snake coming at me, and when the faintest pulse of pleasure runs across my skin, I scuttle backwards, almost falling in my attempt to get away from him.

“Hyacinth?” he asks softly.

“Don’t touch me,” I mutter, my voice harsh.

“But—”

“But nothing. I said what I said.”

Shane looks at my face, and from the way he tilts his head, I know he’s still having trouble seeing me, but I can see him just fine.

He’s so confused. He doesn’t know how to handle this. To be honest, neither do I, but I know for sure I’m not letting him touch me again.

“So… should we go?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply. “Let’s go.”

“I’d feel better if I could hold your hand,” he says stubbornly.

“Too bad. I don’t want to be touched right now, and I’m not scared of the dark.”

“Neither am I,” he snaps. “But if I can’t see, then surely you can’t, either, and I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I reply. “I’m doing just fine. Save your concern for yourself.”

“Fine!” he barks, turning around. “Come if you want. I’m just trying to look out for you.”