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Her vision cleared. Brandon’s horrified face swam into view. She hit him back, as hard as she could, and his jaw came apart around her fist.
A moment stretched to eternity.
She watched her fist.
It was weird – in this gloom, her skin almost looked red.
A deeper red than the blood, though, the blood that exploded in glorious slow motion from the wreckage that had been Brandon’s face. Was she doing this? Was this happening? In that moment, that luxurious moment, Amber found the time to wonder if she was imagining this part. Surely this was some sort of bizarre hallucination, brought about by adrenaline and those increasingly painful headaches.
There was no headache now, though. There was no pain of any sort. Instead, she felt … wonderful. She felt free. She felt …
Powerful.
Time started to speed up again. Blood splattered her T-shirt and Brandon hit the ground and, now that she could perceive normal sound once more, Amber registered his gargled screaming. Both hands were at his face and he was crawling frantically away, leaving a trail of blood as he went. Dan backed off, staring at her, his face white and his eyes wide and utterly, utterly terrified.
She had done that. The blood and the screaming and the shattered bones. It had been no hallucination. She had done that.
She raised her blood-speckled hand. Normal skin again. That was good. Normal was good.
Something in her mouth. Something that tasted of copper. She spat. Brandon’s finger hit the ground.
Amber turned and ran.
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