21
“Mira!” I scream, though I know it’s futile. Even if she weren’t in a comatose state, knocked out by the drugs Caleb gave her, she wouldn’t be able to hear me from the Quiet.
I take out the gun I picked up from a cop earlier and fight the urge to shoot Thomas in the chest. My finger spasms, itching to pull the trigger. Shooting Thomas would feel wrong, so I shoot the wall instead, over and over until I’m down to one bullet.
My outburst doesn’t make me feel better, so with the butt of the gun, I hit frozen Thomas in the liver, which my weird conscience allows. The strike is as effective as shooting him would’ve been, resulting in a whole lot of nothing in the real world. Not that I’d want to hit Thomas in the liver or shoot him in the real world—not unless, by some fluke, he’s trying
