Warm Up (Villains, #0.5)

by V.E. Schwab

Gotta capture the moment, Jackson had said, snapping a shot. Memories fade. So do pictures, David had thought, but he’d smiled and posed anyways.

Some people forget, he thought. A bad thing happens to them and their mind sweeps in and buries the bad thing deep, and all that’s left is a stretch of white in their heads, like fresh snow. Looking at it—at them—you wouldn’t even know anything was trapped beneath.

The truth was, David had. He’d fallen so far, and the climb back up had been slow, agonizingly so—some days inching forward, others slipping back—but little by little, he’d fought his way back to the summit. He could see a life from here. Not his life, that was gone, but a life. It was time for a fresh start.