It was like having ice run through her veins, something sliding around her mind, quiet and cool. “Oh, god.” Her voice was ragged with relief. “That’s so much better.” She splayed her fingers, looking at her hands, then back up at Allison. “Where do we start?”
“I’m so glad you think so.” Now that the girl was being controlled by her shadow-self there was no need to pretend anymore. Everything was set and perfect. “Give me your best ideas. I’m all ears.”
“Depends what result we want. Mass chaos? Heartbreak city? Death and destruction?” Summer looked down at her hands again, then lifted one finger and lit the end of it. “You did know what I could do, right? Personally, I kinda want to set some fires.”
Summer closed her eyes, heart pounding. “Please,” she whispered. “Make it stop. I’m ready, please.”
As soon as she said the words, a dark chuckle escaped Allison’s lips. The change in the girl was almost immediate. As the Darkness took over, Summer’s face took on a more sinister expression and there was a glint in the redhead’s eyes that matched Allison’s. The girl’s body was more alert. ”Well, well then. Welcome to the club. And how do you feel now? Better?”
It was like having ice run through her veins, something sliding around her mind, quiet and cool. “Oh, god.” Her voice was ragged with relief. “That’s so much better.” She splayed her fingers, looking at her hands, then back up at Allison. “Where do we start?”
Quietly, “Do you know, courage is not being without fear. It’s acting despite that fear. I suspect you find that easy in the heat of the moment, yes? When you don’t have to think. But when someone you care about is hurting, you worry over everything. You’re always unsure if what you’ve done is right.”
“The way that I was raised has a completely different way of describing courage. But I think I like yours better. Actually that’s pretty accurate. I’m always worrying about whether what I’ve done has actually helped more people than it’s hurt.”
“One of my favourite books has a fun way of putting it: ‘we are never given to know the count of the living’. It means, you can’t know the good you’ve done. Help is so … subtle. Like dropping a pebble into a pond — you can see the ripples on the surface, but you have no idea what it changes underneath.”
“Like, not being there for them? Or not knowing what to do?”
“Both. I feel helpless half the time. I can barely do anything.”
Quietly, “Do you know, courage is not being without fear. It’s acting despite that fear. I suspect you find that easy in the heat of the moment, yes? When you don’t have to think. But when someone you care about is hurting, you worry over everything. You’re always unsure if what you’ve done is right.”
“You think that you’re so special, don’t you? That everything is going to go right for you just because you have a little love or friendship. You think that you’re powerful? Well, sorry to break it to you dear, but you’re so very far from it. Caring doesn’t make you strong, it makes you weak. And weakness makes it possible for people to break you. Do you really want to be that way? Or do you want to have real power?”
How did she know just where to cut with those words?
