Any attempt to explain is choked when I take off my mask and spit black sludge onto the floor. The Grace turns in bed as best they can, whimpering, free hand reaching for me. I grab their fingers as I straighten up, murmuring, “I’m okay, it’s okay.”
Screw practice. I need to make sure this Grace is okay.
“Does it follow orders?” Nick asks.
“They’re not a dog,” I retort. I don’t like the way he says it, and I can’t tell if it’s just the flat way he talks or if he truly doesn’t give a shit about the person in front of us. My skin burns warm, then hot, the way it did when Alex pinned me to the wall.
This is it. I said I would control it. I’m going to control it. I’ve spent years swallowing down anger the way girls are told to do, so I can learn to do this too. Breathe. Ask the question calmly. “Do you see a handcuff key anywhere? A little metal thing?”
Nick frowns. “What?”
Calmly. “Do you see one?”
“I heard you the first time. Why do you want one? You’re not thinking about…”
I bristle. No, no, get it together. “I am.”
Nick says, “Absolutely not.”
“They’re not going to hurt anybody.” They’ve been trapped here for years, this isn’t right. If I can help them, I have to. That’s what it means to be good. “Just help me look.”
“It’s dangerous,” Nick says. His calm voice isn’t matched by the look in his eyes, nervously flicking from the Grace to me. “I understand that this is important to you”—Don’t take that tone with me—”but this is taking it a step too far.”
“It’s not. They’re just stuck. They won’t hurt us, I swear.”
“No.” Nick pulls me back. “This is too much.” I wrench out of his grasp and shove him away. It burns where we touch. “If you’re going to act like this, we’re leaving.”
I bare my teeth. Even though it’s behind the mask, even if he can’t see it, it feels right. Showing my teeth like a Grace, like Seraph. “No.” I’ve never said no to anyone before. Not in any way that mattered. “We’re not.”
We watch each other. I’m skimming him for weapons the way I did in the office that first day. He has a knife in his pocket. He could have it at my neck in a second and slit my throat in another, and I know it.
I have a knife too.
And an idea.
I snap it open and dive for the Grace.
I jam the blade into the crook of their thumb and shove it between the bones and wrench it until something snaps. The Grace shrieks, and Nick’s body slams into mine, taking us both down to the floor. He bashes my knife hand into the concrete and the blade clatters away.
“Get off!” I howl. His knee digs into my hip. I try to twist him off but, God, why are cis boys so much stronger, it isn’t fair, I remember when Theo held me down almost just like this and I hate it, I hate it. “Motherfucker!”
Nick’s weight disappears from my chest. A mass of flesh hits the cot beside us, sending it across the floor with a screech and taking Nick with it.
I sit up. The Grace has Nick trapped against the floor, strings of saliva trailing from their gaping mouth. The thumb I broke hangs limply by the rest of their clawed fingers, just enough to help them slip their cuffs.
Nick has gone completely still, dark eyes wide and jittering.
It’s beautiful, and I come back to my senses immediately.
I clap my hands as if scolding a puppy. “Hey!” The Grace’s head snaps up. “Don’t hurt him!”