Read Damage for Free Online Page A

can’t let Jesse drag me out into the middle of nowhere. I have to stay by the bus and hope an ambulance and trained medical professionals get to me in time.
    “Wait … I’m diabetic. I have to stay by the bus.” I manage to get the words out with only a slight slur. I know Jesse has to have heard me, but he doesn’t stop walking away. In fact, he breaks into a hobbled run, a jog-hop that jolts my aching head with every step. “Please, I need sugar. You have to stop. Please, I—”
    “I can’t stop. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” He shakes his head and casts an anxious look over his shoulder. “And I can’t leave you there. It could hurt you. It could be real.”
    The words prick at something inside of me, that part that knows what it’s like to be afraid for no reason, to be out of your mind believing in things that aren’t there, people who aren’t there.
    I haven’t thought about Rachel in years. Dreamt about her, woken up screaming with her ruined face burned onto my mental screen—yes. But I haven’t consciously thought about her. I’ve done my best to erase those memories, to wall them up inside my mind and let them suffocate from lack of oxygen.
    But now the wreck, the fear, the smell of smoke, and the horrible ache in my head …
    The walls are crumbling. I can almost sense Rachel slipping out, stealing out of her prison with a tap tap tap of her best dress-up shoes.
    No. She’s not real. You’re just going into shock. You need food.
    I shiver; the sweat on my neck feels like someone is holding an ice cube to my bare skin. “I need sugar,” I say. “I have to eat or I’ll get really sick. I’m diabetic.” I hold my bracelet in front of his face and watch as understanding creeps across his features.
    His incredibly handsome features. Even now, even afraid and delirious, the strange temptation of his skin remains. I want to trace the strong line of his jaw, feel if his lips are as soft as they look. When my hand drops, it doesn’t fall back into my lap. It moves to his chest, feathering over where his muscles clench tight beneath his sweater. It’s all the confirmation I need that I’m not in my right mind. If I were, I would never dare to press against him, to explore the place where his chest bone becomes muscle with my fingers.
    “Okay … okay,” he mutters beneath his breath, not seeming to notice my touch though he pulls me closer. “So you need to eat? You don’t need … a shot or something?”
    “I took my insulin before I got on the bus. I just need some candy or juice, some kind of sugar or I’ll get sick.”
    But even as I speak, saying things I know are true, I can’t help but notice how much easier it is to form words than it was a second before. Except for the odd rattled feeling in my head, I’m starting to feel better, not worse … which doesn’t make sense.
    Jesse slows, but doesn’t turn around. “Okay. I know a place we can go. It’s not too far, and I think they have food. They should, anyway. At least a Coke or something.”
    “Jesse, please. Just let me go back to the bus. I’m sure the police—”
    “The police can’t help. They might not even be able to … ”
    I watch him, watch his throat work as he swallows, and wonder what has made this big, bad boy so afraid. “Might not be able to what?” I ask.
    “Nothing. You’ll … think I’m crazy.” His eyes are icy blue, but burning from the inside out. My arm that’s still around his neck flexes, responding to the need to hold him without my conscious permission. “You probably think I’m crazy already.”
    I should, but I don’t. He isn’t crazy, he’s just … scared. Scared half to death, the way I’ve been scared for most of my life. There’s something about being afraid of a monster no one else believes in, that no one else can even see , that pushes fear into the realm of mind-blowing terror. That kind of terror destroys things inside you, things necessary to leading a normal