Hana

I walk until the heels of my shoes are worn down to nubs, until the white satin of my dress is stained gray with the ash carried on the breeze. I walk until the sun begins inching its way toward the horizon, as if this were any other day.

This should have been my wedding day. Just now, I should be returning to the house on Essex Street. Fred should be closing the door tightly against a herd of press and onlookers, taking my hand and leading me up-

But there is no house on Essex Street anymore.

There is no door, and in all likelihood, there is no Fred.

The strangest sensation begins in my belly, a stir I have not felt since before I was cured.

Relief.

Remorse.

I am glad that I will not be Fred's wife. I think of the sound of the explosion, the deep rumble and then the crashing as all that beautiful marble and hardwood became dust, and the stir in my belly becomes a boil.

Who am I?

Not Hana Hargrove. That name belongs to a life that I will never lead.

Hana Tate?

My parents would never take me back if they knew what I had done. It occurs to me that I don't even know if they're alive. Miraculously, I have not seen a single person since I shut the door of the mansion and turned my back on the promise of the cure.

That will change quickly, I realize. Voices echo off the buildings around me as if the city is part of some ancient ruin newly excavated. Suddenly everything seems aged. I notice for the first time where my feet have carried me almost without my knowledge. I look up and find myself staring into the face of the Governor, the old statue at the center of town along the route Lena and I used to run. I have not been here since the day I slipped the note to Alex into the center of his polished hand. A lifetime ago. That was the last time I saw Lena before today.

Relief.

Remorse.

Lena is alive, which is more than I had expected. She is dirty, and clearly malnourished, but alive. And angry. Angrier than I can ever remember being, even as an uncured. I see again her face as I confessed, pale and twisted. And for a split second I think, This is what the deliria does. It makes you angry and ugly and sick.

But the deliria is also what saved my life. Seeing Lena reminded me of how I was before the procedure-silly, reckless, jealous, daring. Powerful. All those nights I snuck out into the Highlands, I wasn't afraid. Breaking the rules made me feel superior to Lena. And then the morning after the raid, when she told me she'd come to find me. The feeling that surged through me.

Gratitude. Love.

Not what she felt for Alex, not what I thought I might have felt for Steve Hilt. A different beast, but not one wholly unrelated. Something so ferocious that even now, months after the cure, months after I was supposed to be safe, I feel it catch me in its teeth.

She could have left without a word. I never would have guessed.

She loved me enough to save me. Twice.

I know now. That's why I had to let her go.

That's why I have to find her.