Don't Let Go (Third Book to the Other Side)

Chapter Seven

Rain pounded heavily against the walls of the castle. It was the heaviest storm I'd seen in all my time here. Lightning illuminated the room every couple of seconds or so, so frequent and so bright and so quick. Thunder was always sure to follow after, and the castle groaned more times than felt safe. But I refused to let any of those things worry me even more than I already was.

I focused on my breathing. In and out. In and out. I focused on my breathing so I wouldn't focus on the storm, and how that creature could be out there, hiding in the shadows of the clouds and waiting for each lightning strike to make its kill, so that nobody could hear the dying screams of its prey over the crash of the thunder.

I listened to the rain pattering against the windows, the only sense of peace in the middle of such a violent storm.

I wish he was here. He would have loved it. He would have wrapped his arms around me and hold me close no matter who was watching. He would be my source of warmth, of hope, of happiness. He would stare out the window, watching as the rain fell, and he would smell just like it did after the storm had passed on. And I would be his and he would be mine.

But he isn't here. He's gone. Forever.

I drew my knees close to my chest and lost myself in the fire. It never mattered how close I sat to it. I was still cold. Still incomplete.

James stepped into the room and stopped. I glanced up and acknowledged him with a soft smile that didn't quite match how I felt inside. He smiled back, just as emptily, and stepped over to Washington.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Washington asked, not bothering to stand up from the couch. He looked more like an weary veteran than a venerated warrior.

"I think we should head for the maze and try to infiltrate as soon as possible."

"James, with all due respect, I don't want to discuss such things right now."

The atmosphere in the room went still at once, more so than it had been. The fire seemed to stop in its hearth, and all eyes were on the two of them.

James opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"We'll talk about this in the morning, okay?"

"No!" His words echoed through the silent room, followed only by the distant rumble of thunder. James winced as his own words left his mouth, but to his credit, he didn't cower away even as Washington rose to his full height.

"James," Washington said softly. He held out his hand. "You're still upset about what happened, and that's perfectly normal. But we cannot afford to let this cloud our sense of better judgment. Perhaps it's time we move on."

"It hasn't even been a month!" James yelled, stepping away from Washington's outstretched hand. "Not even a month, and you all refuse to say Thomas's name because you're afraid it'll conjure him and show him exactly how long it took to move on! Don't you see what's happening?" He trembled where he stood, raising a sleeve to wipe away his tears. "We're forgetting him."

Nobody spoke.

When James finally continued, his voice was shaking. "Thomas died for us. The last thing he wanted to do was kill the King. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what I have to do. I'm going to avenge my best friend. And you all can feel free to stay here!"

"James—" Washington began, but I had had enough.

"Thomas didn't care about any of us," I said, standing up. "Otherwise, he'd still be here."

"What the f—?"

"Think about it," I interrupted before James could speak. "If Thomas actually cared about how any of us felt, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed. He knew how devastated we would be. How useless we felt. How much we wanted to hurt ourselves for what happened. And yet he went anyway."