I retreated for privacy, following the hallway from the living room, past the basement entrance, finally exiting a squealing screen door to sit on the edge of the back step of the old, abandoned house and stare up into the fading night. Past the overgrown back yard, ignoring the sagging roofline of the decrepit place Cable called his headquarters, focusing on breathing and not much else while I tried to sort out what I'd been through. It was hard not to clench my hands into fists, to unwind my fingers and instead grasp the rotting stairs under me, chipping paint leaving flecks on my jeans, to grip them as if they were the only things holding me from floating away.
It felt that way, like I was losing sight of who I was, losing my grasp on myself. Knowing Leah could surge forward at any second and take me over made me want to lean out across the side of the steps and throw up.