Social Themes
All I could think was that I was in over my head again. The guy had one hand tight on my throat and I was pinned down. The other hand held a knife. He was snarling at me but I couldn't make out anything. Then I looked in his eyes and noticed that he was as scared as I was. He was breathing hard and he was trying to say something.
"You tell, I kill," was what I finally made out.
Y el problema de tener un ataque de pánico cuando estás a cuarenta pies por debajo de la superficie del océano es que te puedes ahogar, y sabes muy bien que te puedes ahogar. De hecho, sin el regulador es imposible respirar, aun si estuvieras tranquilo. Tampoco debes contener la respiración debido a la presión que hay en el agua. El caso es que si no estás respirando y sacando burbujas porque has perdido el regulador, tu pecho puede expandirse hasta explotar.
Erin sucked in a sharp breath. "And I know you, Nick, because I can smell the stink of trash anywhere."
Shut up, Erin, I thought. Just shut up. Let them shave your head and get it over with. Nick bent over and grabbed Erin by the jaw, pulling her up so she was sitting. She was shaking. There was a smirk on his face, and I could hear how hard he was breathing. He pushed his mask up onto the top of his head.
Yo estaba feliz. Feliz como no lo había estado en mucho tiempo. El mundo de Dana se le venía abajo. Finalmente, se hacía justicia. Pero yo quería algo más. Todavía no era suficiente. Pensé que tenía que hacer algo.
Me dirigí a los baños y saqué un marcador de mi mochila. En el primer baño, dibujé un cuadrado con dos círculos. De los círculos salían líneas semejando un flash. Todos se darían cuenta de lo que era. No parencía exactamente una cámara, pero estaba lo suficientemente claro. Para completar, escribí DANA, SONRÍE, y le dibujé una carita feliz al lado.
The steel bar swings again, thudding against Darius's back. Darius makes a whooshing noise, that's all.
Black smoke bites my lungs. I gasp to get a breath. As I turn away from the police car, there's a whooshing sound and flames spill from the broken windows. People scramble back from the heat. It feels like my jersey is on fire, but it's not. The torched car, the cheering crowd; it's awful and scary and weirdly fun, like we're in a virtual world. But the smoke is real—very real—and all rules are off.
