21
Liam
Ginny climbs up onto the stairs and the panic that consumes me when I think of flying, of falling, starts to scrape along my insides. I drag in a breath. I can do this. The panic clenches at my throat and presses down on my chest. I blink as my vision goes in and out. The memory of my spine crunching against concrete clashes around my skull.
I drag in a deep breath, beat back the panic. Ginny’s already ten feet up. She’s going without me. To save Bean. To get Finick.
I look up at Finick’s arm, hanging over the edge of the silo, at least a hundred feet up. Dizziness. I stumble.
“Do this,” I say. “You can do this.”
The panic is there, a beast waiting to consume me. Keep me here, planted on the ground. Safe in its grasp. For years I’ve run from it. Fought it. Retreated from the
