Page 42 of Lucky 14

Warning bells go off in my head. Not safe. This isn’t safe.

His voice rises. “Why are you here? I can’t save you, Fourteen.”

“I…” I’m stuck because fuck, I don’t know what to do when I’m staring a person down who’s covered in blood and clearly hurt. All I know is that helping regulate their body starts by regulating my own.

I take a deep breath in and out. Did someone assault him?

Seven’s lips curl. “I’ve been thinking all morning about taking your water. Stealing your shit and running. You should get away from me before I do.” His cheeks get red as the sky lightens, but he doesn’t advance on me. In fact, he takes a step back. “‘Cause you know, that’s what junkies do. Steal shit.” He gives an odd, high-pitched laugh.

I don’t move, at war with the things he’s saying versus his body language and the straight fear I see in his gaze. Usually, when someone is this conflicted, they’re trying to convince others of how they feel, but they don’t really feel it themselves. He wants me to believe he’s a bad person. He also looks like he’s about to run.

“Do you not hear me?” Seven’s voice pitches higher. “I’m not a good person!”

He takes another step back like he doesn’t want to be around me. Does he think…I’m going to kill him?

My gut clenches at the horrifying reality. He’s trying to warn me away so I don’t try to hurt him, but in reality, he’s just terrified.

“Seven—”

“It’s Elijah!” He’s practically shouting now, and I wince, looking around.

“Okay…Elijah.” I hold my hands out like I’m calming a wild animal. “Try to take a breath, people will hear you.”

I’m not sure he can. Elijah’s chest is heaving, and fight or flight has fully set in. Fear tingles under my skin. If he freaks too much, it’ll be like a flare shot straight into the sky. He’s being too loud.

I take a step back, not looking directly at him but scanning for possible routes to run if he decides to choose fight instead of flight.

Elijah’s breathing is ragged.

I need to go. He’s attracting too much attention. Even as I think it, I feel an ache in my chest.

I don’t want to be alone.

“Elijah, please, you’re panicking.” I keep my voice low. “If you breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, it’ll help.”

Elijah laughs again, and it’s manic. He shakes his head, but I see him close his mouth and pull in a deep breath. Then he says, “I tried to get the villa. I tried, but someone was there.”

I shake my head, my heart pounding. What is he talking about?

He locks gazes with me. “I tried, Fourteen.” His gaze is wild and terrified. He waves his hand wildly, gesturing at his bloody pants. “They have to pay.”

Slowly, I piece together the lighter, the fire, and his words. Elijah set the fire, and in the process, got hurt.

Something like vindictive warmth spreads through my chest. If this is real, it’s super fucked up. And whoever is responsible should pay.

Elijah meets my gaze, and I hold it. Some unspoken, shared anger moves between us. Then I see him close his mouth, pull in a breath, and then exhale. Something shifts, and his shoulders drop; then he drops to the ground. He drops his head in his hands and tries to breathe.

I drop to my haunches, too. “You’re having a panic attack. Just focus on my voice. Do you hear it?”

He nods once, taking fast, shallow breaths.

“Okay. How about your right elbow? Can you feel it?”

Elijah continues to hyperventilate.

“Can you look to your left? What’s there?”

Elijah glances over his shoulder. Encouraged that he’s trying, I continue to try to ground him. Slowly, his breathing slows. I try to ground myself with him, trying to lower my panic so I can stay ready.