Read Online Into the Abyss by Stefanie Gaither - Free Book Online Page B

him now—the way she bites her lip and tilts her head to the side like that, the way her body sinks deeper into her seat, bit by tiny bit, as if absorbing whatever perceived hurt she senses rolling off someone.
    Empathy. I know the word for it. And Catelyn has tried, several times, to explain when I need to put myself in someone else’s shoes, so to speak. It’s difficult, though.Maybe the shortness of a six-month life is to blame again; it seems as if it would be easier to sense someone else’s hurt if you had spent a lifetime collecting and recognizing pain for yourself.
    I don’t think it would be worth it, anyway, however much or little time it took. I have no plans to become more like Catelyn—to be any more in touch with hurt, whether mine or anyone else’s. Whatever pain I notice, all I want to do is file it neatly away where I don’t have to feel it. Where I can control it, and not the other way around.
    Because the second I start worrying about other people hurting, I end up in places like this, with my mind racing with all these things I don’t understand. I end up forgetting about myself, and the danger I might have put myself in by staying because of Catelyn.
    â€œIt’s been calm outside for a while now,” I say quietly. “The president is probably wondering why I haven’t come to see her yet.”
    Anger is one of the simplest, easiest emotions to read. And now it’s unmistakably written all over Jaxon’s face. “Yeah. You should go,” he says, and I can feel him glaring after me, all the way out the door.

CHAPTER SIX
    The hallway outside the president’s room is dimly lit, aglow only with the pale-white security lights that line the bottom half of the wall. The headquarters are almost completely quiet, wrapped in an uneasy hush and forced calmness as members follow protocol to finish restoring order. Our walk here didn’t contribute any extra noise either. Yes, our walk, and not simply mine, because Catelyn supposedly wanted a change of scenery. And Jaxon didn’t want her to go alone, so he came too.
    I am not sure why they had to walk with me, though.
    They remain quiet company, at least. Quiet enough that all three of us hear a voice long before the person it belongs to—a middle-aged man with graying hair and a sharp chin—rounds the corner ahead. Catelyn averts her gaze, but I keep staring at the man walking toward us as she whispers, “That’s Silas Iverson. Josh’s dad.”
    I already know this, but I don’t bother to point it out. I’ve seen him before, and all it takes is once; I remember him the same way I remember everything I see and hear. And he and Josh look so much alike that I don’t think he could deny his son even if he wanted to.
    His attention remains fixed on the conversation he ishaving over his communicator, his pale-blue eyes staring straight ahead until he has almost walked right past us. Only then do those eyes dart toward Jaxon. He gives a curt nod. Indifferent, still—at least until he truly catches sight of me. Then his step slows. His voice starts to trail off, almost to complete silence before he realizes it, and he has to apologize to whoever is on the other end of his communicator.
    He doesn’t say a word to us, though. He just averts his gaze and picks up his pace again.
    â€œI wonder where he’s heading off to,” Catelyn says, once he is well out of earshot.
    Something in her tone strikes me as odd; she sounds too concerned about what looked like nothing more than a man going for a walk to me—especially since half the CCA is awake right now.
    I think it might be simply because she is still worrying about my run-in with Josh earlier, until Jaxon turns to her and says, “Probably off to another of his committee meetings. I’m sure they’ll have lots to discuss after tonight.”
    â€œThat’s what I’m afraid of.”