about? No wonder
she’d quit speaking.
Lydia closed her eyes, riding a wave of pain, then
she opened them and her voice was so soft I had to
strain to hear it. “I can let the pain flow naturally—
that’s easiest on both of us. Or I can take it from you.
That way’s faster, but sometimes I take too much.
64 / My Soul to Lose
More than just pain.” She flinched again, and her gaze
shifted to something over my shoulder, as if she could
see through all the walls separating us from Tyler.
“And I can’t give it back. But either way, it’s easier if I
touch you.”
She waited expectantly, but I could only shrug and
shake my head to demonstrate confusion, my lips still
sealed firmly against the scream battering me from the
inside.
“Close your eyes and let the pain flow,” she said,
and I obeyed, because I didn’t know what else to do.
Suddenly my hand felt both hot and cold, like I had
a fever and chills at the same time. Lydia’s fingers
shook in mine, and I opened my eyes to find her
shuddering all over. I tried to pull my hand away, but
she slapped her other palm over it, holding me tight
even as her teeth began to chatter. “K-keep your eyes
cl-closed,” she stuttered. “No m-matter what.”
Terrified now, I closed my eyes and concentrated
on holding my jaw shut. On not seeing the fog things
in the back of my mind. On not feeling the thick
current of agony and despair stirring through me.
And slowly, very slowly, the panic began to ebb. It
was gradual at first, but then the discordant ribbon of
sound leaking from me thinned into a strand as fragile
as a human hair. Though the panic still built inside me,
it was weaker now, and blessedly manageable thanks
to whatever she was doing.
I dared a peek at Lydia to find her eyes closed, her
face scrunched in pain, her forehead again shiny with
Rachel Vincent / 65
sweat. Her free hand clutched a handful of her baggy
T-shirt, pressing it into her stomach like she was hurt.
But there was no blood, or any other sign of a wound;
I looked closely to make sure.
She was funneling the panic from me somehow,
and it was making her sick. And as badly as I wanted
out of Lakeside, I would not take my freedom at her
expense.
I still couldn’t talk, so I tried to pull my hand away,
but Lydia’s eyes popped open at the first tug. “No!”
She clung to my fingers, tears standing in her eyes. “I
can’t stop it, and fighting only makes it hurt worse.”
The pain wouldn’t kill me, but from the looks of it,
whatever she was doing might kill her. I tugged again
and she swallowed thickly, then shook her head
sharply.
“It hurts me, Kaylee. If you let go, I hurt worse.”
She was lying. I could see it in her eyes. She’d
heard my aunt and uncle and knew that if I had another
screaming fit, Uncle Brendon wouldn’t be able to get
me out. Lydia was lying so I wouldn’t pull away, even
though she was hurting herself worse—maybe killing
herself—with every bit of panic she took from me.
At first I let her, because she seemed determined to
do it. She obviously had her reasons, even if I didn’t
understand them. But when the guilt became too much
and I tried to pull away again, she squeezed my hand
so hard it hurt.
“He’s cresting…” she whispered, and I searched
her eyes in vain for a translation. I still had no idea
66 / My Soul to Lose
what she was talking about. “It’s going to shift. Tyler’s
pain will end, and yours will begin.”
Begin? Because it’s all been fun and games so
far…
But before I could finish that thought, Lydia’s
hands went limp around mine, and she relaxed so
suddenly and thoroughly she almost seemed to deflate.
For a precious half second, she smiled, obviously
painfree, and I started to think it was over.
“He’s gone,” Lydia said softly.
Then the panic truly hit me.
What I’d felt before had only been a preview. This
was the main event. The real deal. Like at
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