Something rips through my chest and I fall to the ground, letting out a shout. Fire bursts through my limbs as I find my feet again, turning to find Etem once more as he opens the door, standing in the doorway and backing up slowly.

He's wanting me to follow him so I won't hurt Cayla.

But I'm smarter than that.

I growl at Etem as I take another step toward Cayla, moving quickly as I cross the room and pick her up in my large hands.

Bang!

Another bullet rips through my thigh, making me stumble to the left. I drop Cayla and she scrambles to the back of the house, screaming.

My brain is torn between the chase and taking out the stronger of the two when there's a sudden shudder in the air. Too familiar to ignore. A pull like a compass in my chest, leading me right to where it came from.

I spin to stare out a window, another building facing it.

Suddenly, a moment of clarity breaks through the storm in my mind, guilt and shame and terror rushing through me.

My friends. I will rip them apart if I don't channel this rage elsewhere.

Another shudder in the air.

I grit my teeth and push past Etem, out into the night, letting the animal push the anger elsewhere. I know what I can do to get out these frustrations, and she's not that far away.

But why is it always her?

I run and run, past the second worlders that stand in awe as I pass them, fully Raged Out, as some let out cries. As some drop their jaws, amazed to see a living Bleeder after getting rid of all of them, of all the zombies.

An abandoned building stands before me, a warehouse.

I shove the cracked-open door, hearing it slam against the wall as moonlight and streetlights pour in. I huff, walking inside with fists clenched. My skin buzzes with excess energy, needing to get rid of it. Fear and shame fuel the anger, not letting me return to my natural form.

"I know you're in here," I call, my voice echoing off the metal walls, the dirt-covered cement below. "Come out, Mikey."

"Boo, I was wanting to play hide-and-seek."

She swings down from a chain overhead, hanging from a pulley, landing in the center of the empty room.

"Fight me," I demand.

She watches me, Raged Out as well. "No."

I grit my teeth, taking three fast steps forward, fury building. "Why not? Fight me!"

"No," she says, more forceful this time as she stands her ground. "Not this time."

I let out a cry as I swing my fist, but she stops it, her green-rimmed dilated irises watching me closely. Meeting her eyes, the memory of the kiss makes me shudder and I stumble back, ripping my fist from hers.

"Why not?"

"Because I know what's happening to you."

Clicks erupt from my throat, but I don't know if it's a warning for her or me. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't control your emotions as easily as you could before. Remember? I told you that last night."

I grit my teeth but say nothing.

She sighs, resting her hands on my shoulders. "Close your eyes."

"Around you? I don't think so," I spit.

Shaking her head, she pulls me closer, her transformed face inches from mine. "If you don't, you'll never return to your natural form. Do you want to go home without people freaking out about there being a live Bleeder? The rioting will only get worse."

I try to pull away but she holds fast. "Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

She grits her teeth, a flame igniting in her irises, but she stifles it.

"Close your eyes, dummy," she breathes, wrapping one hand around the back of my neck and pulling me forward. She puts her forehead to mine, blurring my vision of her. "Trust me. I was in your shoes since I was five."

I attempt to push her away but she pushes down on a pressure point between my neck and shoulder, making my muscles tense as I grunt in pain.

"Zeke. Do it."

With teeth gritted, I finally does as she says, breathing heavily.

"Slow your breathing," she instructs, a gentleness in her voice I haven't heard since that night she soothed me back to sleep and I woke up with her arms around me. It startles me, forcing my eyes open as they snap up to her. Her eyes are locked on mine, even if they are blurry. "Push away the guilt you feel, the anger. I don't care if you forgive yourself to get rid of it, and I don't care if you lock it away for later, to use to change, but do something. If you want to keep your friends in one piece, you'll do as I say."

I struggle to find a fighting argument. A harsh word to spit in her face so she'll let me go. But... I can't.

Reluctantly, angrily, I close my eyes again and breathe, trying to calm myself down. Slowly, eventually, the tension leaves my body, anger following. Guilt and grief stay, my hands shaking as shivers run down my body. Sadness rises between them, linking its hands with the emotions that are left behind.

"Breathe," Mikey whispers, the pressure of her hand on the back of my neck, on my shoulder, and her forehead against mine somewhat comforting. But why? I should hate this girl for what she's put me through.

A ball rises in my throat.

"Anything can trigger the transformation as a human-turned Bleeder," she continues, her voice quiet in the empty space. "Anger is the most potent, the one with the most bang for your buck, but sadness, guilt, fear... they'll change you. Don't let your emotions control you, Zeke. You control them. Always."

My jaw is clenched tight, holding back the confessions of the thoughts pulling me to the ground.

My knees give out and I collapse, Mikey coming down with me as soon as she notices I'm falling.

She holds my shoulders as I stare off in the distance, still Raged Out. I could have killed my friends. I could have ripped those guys in the alleyway apart if I wanted.

"Hey." She shakes me gently, my eyes drifting to hers. Genuine concern in there, forcing to stare at her in disbelief. "Hey, if you want to talk about it—"

"I don't," I snap, but my voice is so weak. So hoarse. Transformed, it's already raspy, but this... It comes out like sandpaper.

Mikey watches me for a moment before letting me go and sitting on the floor, her body shrinking as she returns to normal. Her platinum blonde hair glistens in what moonlight seeps through the door, her emerald eyes murky.

"I coped with jokes," she says suddenly, breaking eye contact. "Joking about it pushed it away. Talking about the worst things that happened in my life with complete strangers I'd met became repetition for me and I soon felt nothing when I told my life story. I learned to act from the internet so I could recall any emotion I wanted to transform. Anger was always the easiest. I've always been angry." She meets my eyes. "And so have you."

I swallow, my heart palpitating in my chest as I bite my tongue, keeping the tears inside.

Mikey sighs, placing her face in her hands and breathing slowly. She doesn't look up as she speaks. "I've done horrible things. To the people I love, to the people in the city... to you. It's hard to forgive yourself when twenty-twenty hindsight is like your disease. But if I never turned you..." she meets my eyes. "We would have never met."

I open my mouth to say something snarky, but nothing comes out. Her demeanor has me shocked into silence.

"I know that's what you wish," she continues, pulling her knees to her chest. It's hard to believe that girl I met in the ring with a cruel smile and blood splattered all over her is sitting before me, vulnerable and apologizing for the wrongs she did in the past. "But I... I would never wish that. I think we met for a reason. A reason beyond the riots I started before the humans took back this world."

She pauses, my knees beginning to ache.

"I tend to do things without thinking sometimes, selfish things." She sits upright, wrapping her arms around her midsection, still not looking at me. "And last night was one of those nights. I was alone, hiding in the old bunker where the Mindless used to walk. That was Tanya's pride and joy." Her bottom lip quivers as I watch, my heart chipping as I take in a quiet, sharp breath. Water lines her bottom lid. "And now she's gone. That's what I did to her. Because of my actions, she's gone. Did you know that she believed in Heaven? Did you know that her religion thinks those that take their own lives don't go there?"

I swallow hard, something within me wanting to help her. To console her like she has me. "I don't believe that."

"Neither do I." She sniffles. "But can you imagine what went through her head leading up to that? If she believed wholeheartedly that's not where she'll end up..."

Mikey covers her mouth, a sob slipping out and a tear falling from her lash.

I instinctively reach out to touch her, to comfort her. For a moment, I hesitate. What has she done to deserve my help? My care?

I grit my teeth. Nothing. She's done nothing to deserve it.

But that's not a good enough excuse not to help her.

I exhale and lean forward, wrapping my arm around her, using my free one to stabilize myself. She lets out another sob, my heart cracking. Why...? Why?

"She was like a mom to me," Mikey whispers. "And I didn't go to her funeral. I was angry with her, with the world for taking her."

I swallow hard. Me too.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. She shifts and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my neck. I push my other arm to the ground to catch myself, her weight throwing me off balance. Her tears stain my collar as I sit down before her, shifting to hesitantly wrap my arms around her torso.

I clear my throat. "I was angry too," I confess. "For her leaving me here, for leaving her family, her husband. I... didn't go, either. To her funeral. I... lost myself after she died."

Mikey grips my shirt tightly, sounding like she's holding in a sob. I can feel her emotions spilling into mine, mixing with them, stirring them. The two of us are the start of a shroud of Bleeders. We know each other's whereabouts at all times. We share and can read each other's emotions. We are connected.

"You're back to normal," she whispers after a long moment, pulling away as she wipes at her red face, pulling her collar up to wipe away the water making her cheeks glisten.

I release her and look at myself, realizing that she's right. I'm back in my normal from. When did I change?

She sniffles. "Sorry."

I shake my head. "Don't be."

The two of us sit in silence, looking at the warehouse around us, the sounds of the night filling our senses.

Mikey gulps. "Do you... want to visit her? With... with me?"

I turn to her, her eyes trained on me.

"Ernesto told me where she was buried. He wasn't happy with me... He gave me a lashing with his words when I went to visit you guys."

I pull my eyebrows together. "You visited us while we were still in the moving shelters?"

She nods, wiping at her nose, eyes bloodshot. "Yeah. He wouldn't let me in. Called me a traitor. And a few other things."

I grit my teeth and turn away. "I didn't know."

She shrugs, her inhale wavering. "That's okay. I... didn't think you wanted to see me, either."

I fall silent again. Then, "Sure."

I stand, my eyes trained on her for a moment longer as she stares off in the distance, worry in her irises. Through the new sense of calm sadness working through my veins, I offer my hand out to her.

"Let's go see Tanya."