Seth fancifully frees the knife from my hand. If I was any optimistic it would alleviate some of the guilt I am carrying at being the one to deliver the first cut. There is no such optimism—even if my hand was chopped off it would still be the hand that inflicted the initial mark of death. Although I am frozen my mind is sizzling like a million live wires. I feel like I should know what to do next but I don't.
It amazes me, momentarily, how ritualistic it feels to be out here. The amazement passes, however, when Lily slips her hand around my forearm and starts leading me away from the epicenter of the scene. Shockwaves still travel through me and make my joints rattle. Lily whispers something in my ear but, again, I hear nothing distinctly. The voice cannot worm through the wires tangled
