She dug her fingers into her skull as if that would somehow block out the emotional babble of a thousand people pouring through her mind. Someone was there, close, too close, there was a shadow between her and the light—
Issac. Issac was speaking, frowning, blue eyes dark; Issac was worried. Breathe he said.
“Can’t.” It was almost a sob. “Hurts.” And that was a sob. “Too many, too much, make it stop, please make it stop.” She kept her eyes open, kept them on his, because it would hurt less if she just fell into him, right? One person, that had to be easier than the crowd of thousands roaring in a hot-light jumble, overwhelming all her senses.
But if she just looked at him, just at those eyes, those hands arms shoulders chest heartbeat he was afraid of her why was he afraid of her a ribbon of grey leading back and back and back fear and control and helplessness what was that in his past why was it so cold—
Something sizzled against her skin — why was she crying? A spark rose lazily off her skin and drifted up between them. Summer became aware that her hands were shaking. That her whole body was trembling, great long shudders that jolted her teeth together and wormed pain through every muscle.
“Please,” she managed, through clenched jaws, “get me out of here.”
“Try. Just breathe.” He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to touch her in case she lashed out. Not because he was afraid of getting hurt but because of all the people around that would see the demonstration of her power.
It pained him to see her like this, crying, overwhelmed by everything around her. Everyone reacted to it differently. Some needed to be held, others needed to be alone — though having the ability to control fire was definitely a game changer. He took a deep breath of his own before moving closer, desperately hoping she didn’t expose herself.
”Come on, the car is right over there,” he whispered soothingly into her ear as he tried to get her to walk in its direction, his hands grasping hers — perhaps the warmth of his fingers would be calming.
They were maybe a five minute drive from the auto shop to the nearest part of the forest. It might not be the best idea because she could start a forest fire but he was out of options and could only hope if she started one, she’d be able to put it out.
He touched her, took her hands; it increased the sensation of falling down a deep well. She wasn’t sure which was worse — his fear or the half-distinct emotions of the people all around. She could almost feel his pulse.
A breath. A step. A breath, a step. A breath a step. Breath step.
Her hand hit the door of the car, and she groped for the handle, almost fell into the seat. The shaking didn’t stop, but the sparks didn’t appear, either, and she knew that was a good thing. She couldn’t completely control the fire yet. It worked, but she couldn’t control it. Better to convulse.
So she curled herself in the seat as small as possible, trying to lock her bones in place, trying not to shake out of her skin.