Leah's Hero - Miranda Martin Page 0,8

sure?”

“No,” I snort shaking my head. “But I’ll try.”

“That’s all any of us can ask,” she says. “Even Mick.”

We laugh together, and it feels good. Cleansing. A relief from the constant storm clouds that fill my thoughts. The dark swirling mist that seems ready to invade any moment. Like shadows that dance in the corner of your vision, it’s there waiting for any chance to pounce. Having it gone, even if it’s temporary, greatly lifts my spirits.

“Thanks,” I say.

“For what?”

I shrug and shakes my head. “For… being here? Not hating me?”

“Like I said, be glad you got the new me,” Ziva smiles. She pushes herself to her feet then offers her hand to me. “Come on, there’s lots to do.”

“Right,” I say, accepting her hand.

We leave my room, the safe space I’d retreated to after my confrontation with Mick. I wrinkle my nose at the musty odor, and there’s a hint of wetness to it as well. I shouldn’t be surprised, since it hasn’t stopped raining in what feels like forever, so of course there’s too much humidity.

The hair on my arms stands on end as we get closer to the main room. Will they really be okay? Will Mick yell at me again? I take a deep, shaky breath, then let it out slowly trying to calm my nerves.

Inside our stolen compound, it’s dim even at the brightest part of the day. Since the rain started, it’s worse. Throughout the building there are hidden windows that let the light in without letting you see out. It’s clever, and I’m sure serves for protection. The kind of thing I never would have thought of before this planet.

This planet of violence and imminent death at every corner. Our Zmaj protectors, which is how I’ve come to think of them, have carefully taught us which plants to avoid, because even the plants here want to eat you.

We’re still exploring our new home. There are parts of it none of us have entered yet. The dragon-men blocked off the section we’re using to live in to make sure no surprises could find us, and we’ve been working to make it inhabitable. I’m glad we found something before this eternal rain set in. The cave we were living in would have been wet. When it had rained the water would run from the opening and throughout in tiny rivers soaking everything. It was miserable. This is less miserable at least.

The end of the hall is in sight, where it opens up onto the main room. Where everyone will be waiting. I stop, heart racing. I can’t catch my breath and I’m getting dizzy.

“Hey,” Ziva says, turning and taking hold of my arms.

I can’t meet her eyes. Can’t focus. Blood pounds in my ears.

“No—” I’m shaking uncontrollably.

“Allie,” Ziva says, tightening her grip.

She puts her hand under my chin and forces my head up until I meet her eyes. She glistens through the tears filling my eyes. Her smile is dazzling with too-perfect, brilliant white teeth. She wipes tears from my cheeks then rests her hand on my face.

“I’m… sorry…” I sob.

“No,” Ziva says, brow furrowing and her mouth turning down at the corners. “Enough with the sorry.”

A sharp pain pierces my chest, driving into my heart. It’s enough of a shock it cuts through the cacophony of voices telling me I’m going to die, that I’m not good enough, and that they all hate me anyway. I’m left breathless and wide-eyed.

“I mean it,” she says. “It’s okay that you’re hurting. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you quit trying to hide from it, the better. You got that?”

“Ye-ah,” I say, still trembling.

“Good. You can’t heal if you won’t admit that you need healing,” she says. “Now come here.”

She pulls me into a hug, squeezing me so tight I feel, for an instant, safe again. Maybe she’s right? The noise in my head, the constant buzz of fear and uncertainty has receded, for the moment at least.

I dry my eyes with a sleeve, rub my face to try and ease the flush, then swallow hard and nod.

“Right,” I agree.

She pulls me forward and kisses my forehead. “I know it’s rough. You got this.”

Squaring my shoulders, I nod, and she turns, leading us the rest of the way. My stomach churns, cold sweat runs down my back, and every step is heavy. I feel I’m walking to my own execution, but I’m walking it. I’m upright, back straight, head held high. That’s the best I’ve got.

We