The shard of glass toppled from my fingertips as I got tugged forward. Gunpowder and sweat drenched me. My head pounded and I lurched backward away from the man I killed. Blood flowed down my hand and the noises stopped. The screams caught in throats.
Only me.
This was only me. Alone in Deliverance, my chest heaved, the pants grating on my ears. Blood dripped onto the floor, onto the bodies.
The bodies.
Revulsion sparked in my throat and bile rose. I let it go coming up with a sad dry heaving that finished into sobs.
I forced my way to the doors, skirting past Liza riddled with bullet holes, past an impaled Charlie.
But Tom was safe. I knew that much
Safe.
What did the word even mean? I reached out for the door with a mangled bloody hand and was cut short. Unrelenting hands caught
