enough air to breathe.
She stopped in front of the giant Ferris wheel. There were even more tourists there, waiting in a long queue for a ride. She took shelter behind them so that she could look back to see if he was following. Her eyes scanned frantically, so much so that she wasn’t properly focusing.
‘You’ll never know how true panic feels until it happens to you.’
She wished Gordon were there right now, beside her, telling her what she should do next. She began to calm down. Panic slowly turned into despair. Everything was going wrong because she’d let it. “Head. Head. Head.” She said, “Always go with your head.” She should have fought her way out of the flat the moment he arrived back, not pretend at being his girlfriend. She’d been asking for trouble.
Anyone watching her would think she was crazy.
It took another twenty minutes before she could convince herself that Leo wasn’t following, but that didn’t mean that others weren’t.
She moved into the shadows and began to walk.
If she couldn’t sort out her feelings and leave them behind, then she would have to work out a way to leave this world earlier than planned. It wouldn’t be easy, but if she didn’t, she would put herself and The Project in danger, and that was the one thing she couldn’t afford to do.
Seven
Leo immersed his face in the cold water he’d run into the bathroom sink and held his breath. His skin still felt like fire, even though he’d thrown a whole tray of ice cubes into the water as well. It hurt like hell. He thumped the rim of the sink so hard everything on the glass shelf above it rattled. He lifted his head, gulped in a breath and dunked his face again.
It had been a stupid move. He’d frightened Mara before he’d had a chance to ease her into the truth, and then he’d compounded his mistake by calling her by her real name. It was a lot to take in, he knew that and it had been too soon to come straight out and admit to her who he was. He’d wanted to get her onto his side first. It would have been easier that way. Now, he’d pushed her away.
He needed to breathe again.
He stood up straight, water cascading from his nose, his chin, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was very red, the kind of red that might have warranted a trip to the hospital under normal circumstances. He couldn’t afford to do that. It was possible the ice had made it look worse than it was. He truly looked horrendous.
He gently ran the tip of his fingers across his lips. He recalled the kiss.
He dunked his face again.
He imagined she was running as far away from him as she could get. It was what he would have done. He couldn’t blame her for her self-preservation instinct. Everyone had it. And instincts were difficult to subdue when fear was involved.
He surfaced again, grabbed a towel and dabbed at his skin. Small globs of sauce still clung to his eyelashes, making them feel heavy, and dripped from his hair onto his clothes, leaving a pink-tinged stain behind. The smell of the garlic, that he was sure was originating from the lining of his nose, was no longer pleasant.
He thumped the sink again and the water rippled.
He’d assumed too much. He’d gone too far.
“Simple. I should have kept it simple.”
The Parmesan box had been too specific. The Parmesan box contained memories. He’d thought it might give her a good sign. Something that she could cling onto and believe in. Honesty would’ve been better. What his actions had done was instil horror into her. He’d seen it in her face.
Mara.
Eight years.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
He grinned. It was what he’d been counting on, after all. That the love they had once had would be fresh in her mind and she’d still love him. That any reminder of the man she used to see every day would claw at her memories, dragging them to the fore, where they couldn’t be ignored.
He had to keep calm.
He’d done it once, he could do it again. He had
She stopped in front of the giant Ferris wheel. There were even more tourists there, waiting in a long queue for a ride. She took shelter behind them so that she could look back to see if he was following. Her eyes scanned frantically, so much so that she wasn’t properly focusing.
‘You’ll never know how true panic feels until it happens to you.’
She wished Gordon were there right now, beside her, telling her what she should do next. She began to calm down. Panic slowly turned into despair. Everything was going wrong because she’d let it. “Head. Head. Head.” She said, “Always go with your head.” She should have fought her way out of the flat the moment he arrived back, not pretend at being his girlfriend. She’d been asking for trouble.
Anyone watching her would think she was crazy.
It took another twenty minutes before she could convince herself that Leo wasn’t following, but that didn’t mean that others weren’t.
She moved into the shadows and began to walk.
If she couldn’t sort out her feelings and leave them behind, then she would have to work out a way to leave this world earlier than planned. It wouldn’t be easy, but if she didn’t, she would put herself and The Project in danger, and that was the one thing she couldn’t afford to do.
Seven
Leo immersed his face in the cold water he’d run into the bathroom sink and held his breath. His skin still felt like fire, even though he’d thrown a whole tray of ice cubes into the water as well. It hurt like hell. He thumped the rim of the sink so hard everything on the glass shelf above it rattled. He lifted his head, gulped in a breath and dunked his face again.
It had been a stupid move. He’d frightened Mara before he’d had a chance to ease her into the truth, and then he’d compounded his mistake by calling her by her real name. It was a lot to take in, he knew that and it had been too soon to come straight out and admit to her who he was. He’d wanted to get her onto his side first. It would have been easier that way. Now, he’d pushed her away.
He needed to breathe again.
He stood up straight, water cascading from his nose, his chin, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was very red, the kind of red that might have warranted a trip to the hospital under normal circumstances. He couldn’t afford to do that. It was possible the ice had made it look worse than it was. He truly looked horrendous.
He gently ran the tip of his fingers across his lips. He recalled the kiss.
He dunked his face again.
He imagined she was running as far away from him as she could get. It was what he would have done. He couldn’t blame her for her self-preservation instinct. Everyone had it. And instincts were difficult to subdue when fear was involved.
He surfaced again, grabbed a towel and dabbed at his skin. Small globs of sauce still clung to his eyelashes, making them feel heavy, and dripped from his hair onto his clothes, leaving a pink-tinged stain behind. The smell of the garlic, that he was sure was originating from the lining of his nose, was no longer pleasant.
He thumped the sink again and the water rippled.
He’d assumed too much. He’d gone too far.
“Simple. I should have kept it simple.”
The Parmesan box had been too specific. The Parmesan box contained memories. He’d thought it might give her a good sign. Something that she could cling onto and believe in. Honesty would’ve been better. What his actions had done was instil horror into her. He’d seen it in her face.
Mara.
Eight years.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
He grinned. It was what he’d been counting on, after all. That the love they had once had would be fresh in her mind and she’d still love him. That any reminder of the man she used to see every day would claw at her memories, dragging them to the fore, where they couldn’t be ignored.
He had to keep calm.
He’d done it once, he could do it again. He had
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