The Host (The Host #1)(105)

I was twisted into the most impossible position. My head was the lowest point, the right side of my face pressed against the rough rock floor. My shoulders were slanted around a crumpled box edge, the right higher than the left. My hips angled the opposite way, with my left calf pressed to the ceiling. Fighting with the boxes had left bruises—I could feel them forming. I knew I would have to find some way to explain to Ian and Jamie that I had done this to myself, but how? What should I say? How could I tell them that Jared had kissed me as a test, like giving a lab rat a jolt of electricity to observe its reaction?

And how long was I supposed to hold this position? I didn’t want to make any noise, but it felt like my spine was going to snap in a minute. The pain got more difficult to bear every second. I wouldn’t be able to bear it in silence for long. Already, a whimper was rising in my throat.

Melanie had nothing to say to me. She was quietly working through her own relief and fury. Jared had spoken to her, finally recognized her existence. He had told her he loved her. But he had kissed me. She was trying to convince herself that there was no reason to be wounded by this, trying to believe all the solid reasons why this wasn’t what it felt like. Trying, but not yet succeeding. I could hear all this, but it was directed internally. She wasn’t speaking to me—in the juvenile, petty sense of the phrase. I was getting the cold shoulder.

I felt an unfamiliar anger toward her. Not like the beginning, when I feared her and wished for her eradication from my mind. No, I felt my own sense of betrayal now. How could she be angry with me for what had happened? How did that make sense? How was it my fault that I’d fallen in love because of the memories she forced on me and then been overthrown by this unruly body? I cared that she was suffering, yet my pain meant nothing to her. She enjoyed it. Vicious human.

Tears, much weaker than the others, flowed down my cheeks in silence. Her hostility toward me simmered in my mind.

Abruptly, the pain in my bruised, twisted back was too much. The straw on the camel.

“Ung,” I grunted, pushing against stone and cardboard as I shoved myself backward.

I didn’t care about the noise anymore, I just wanted out. I swore to myself that I would never cross the threshold of this wretched pit again—death first. Literally.

It was harder to worm out than it had been to dive in. I wiggled and squirmed around until I felt like I was making things worse, bending myself into the shape of a lopsided pretzel. I started to cry again, like a child, afraid that I would never get free.

Melanie sighed. Hook your foot around the edge of the mouth and pull yourself out, she suggested.

I ignored her, struggling to work my torso around a particularly pointy corner. It jabbed me just under the ribs.

Don’t be petty, she grumbled.

That’s rich, coming from you.

I know. She hesitated, then caved. Okay, sorry. I am. Look, I’m human. It’s hard to be fair sometimes. We don’t always feel the right thing, do the right thing. The resentment was still there, but she was trying to forgive and forget that I’d just made out with her true love—that’s the way she thought of it, at least.

I hooked my foot around the edge and yanked. My knee hit the floor, and I used that leverage to lift my ribs off the point. It was easier then to get my other foot out and yank again. Finally, my hands found the floor and I shoved my way through, a breech birth, falling onto the dark green mat. I lay there for a moment, facedown, breathing. I was sure at this point that Jared was long gone, but I didn’t make certain of that right away. I just breathed in and out until I felt prepared to lift my head.

I was alone. I tried to hold on to the relief and forget the sorrow this fact engendered. It was better to be alone. Less humiliating.

I curled up on the mat, pressing my face against the musty fabric. I wasn’t sleepy, but I was tired. The crushing weight of Jared’s rejection was so heavy it exhausted me. I closed my eyes and tried to think about things that wouldn’t make my stinging eyes tear again. Anything but the appalled look on Jared’s face when he’d broken away from me…

What was Jamie doing now? Did he know I was here, or was he looking for me? Ian would be asleep for a long time, he’d looked so exhausted. Would Kyle wake soon? Would he come in search? Where was Jeb? I hadn’t seen him all day. Was Doc really drinking himself unconscious? That seemed so unlike him…

I woke slowly, roused by my growling stomach. I lay quietly for a few minutes, trying to orient myself. Was it day or night? How long had I slept here alone?

My stomach wouldn’t be ignored for long, though, and I rolled up onto my knees. I must have slept for a while to be this hungry—missed a meal or two.

I considered eating something from the supply pile in the hole—after all, I’d already damaged pretty much everything, maybe destroyed some. But that only made me feel guiltier about the idea of taking more. I’d go scavenge some rolls from the kitchen.

I was feeling a little hurt, on top of all the big hurt, that I’d been down here so long without anyone coming to look for me—what a vain attitude; why should anyone care what happened to me?—so I was relieved and appeased to find Jamie sitting in the doorway to the big garden, his back turned on the human world behind him, unmistakably waiting for me.

My eyes brightened, and so did his. He scrambled to his feet, relief washing over his features.

“You’re okay,” he said; I wished he were right. He began to ramble. “I mean, I didn’t think Jared was lying, but he said he thought you wanted to be alone, and Jeb said I couldn’t go check on you and that I had to stay right here where he could see that I wasn’t sneaking back there, but even though I didn’t think you were hurt or anything, it was hard to not know for sure, you know?”