“Let me out!” I roar at the door, still beating at it although my fists throb and ache.
In my mind I see Chris’s blood-drenched body on the ground. How it jerks and writhes even as fresh blood pumps from the cuts in his stomach.
“Open the door!”
I bang my forehead against the hard metal and sink to my knees as my fingernails tear desperately at the door.
At last the hatch slides open and a frightened eye stares down at me. It’s Elsa.
“Help,” I croak.
I’m drowning. My body just keeps sinking even though I’m already in a pile on the floor. I force my way upward and reach out my arms, but the air is too thick. It’s like trying to swim in cement.
“Mom! Mom!”
Elsa orders me to back away from the door and slowly I manage to crawl away as I hear Elsa calling for help.
I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling as they examine me. Their voices are far away, like faint whispers in the distance.
The image of Chris dying comes back over and over. That pulsating, bloody body on the ground.
A medic slaps my face. I explain that I’m having trouble breathing, that there’s something wrong with my throat. He brings a glass of water to my lips, but most of it ends up running down my chin and cheek. He gets help from a guard to sit me up.
There are several strange hands in my face. Rubber gloves feeling inside my mouth. Someone shoves two pills into me and says I’m going to sleep.
“No!” I roar, flailing my limbs.
Sleep is dangerous. I don’t want to go back there.
“I don’t want to!” I scream.
They’re behind me, restraining me.
I take a deep breath and hold it. I can actually feel the oxygen streaming into my blood and my pulse starts to calm down.
I see Elsa, backed into the corner and trembling, looking like a lost child.
“The police,” I manage to say. “I want to talk to the police.”
I don’t know what I’m going to tell them: the whole truth, part of the truth, or something that has nothing at all to do with the truth. I just know I need to talk. I have to tell, before I explode.
73
Chris wanted to come over to my house.
I want to see how you live, he texted. I’d love to meet your parents too, but maybe we should hold off on that. Anyway, it’ll be perfect since they’re off on their trip.
I looked around. Clothes, bags, and random objects were strewn all over. The kitchen smelled like something had died in there and I had built a mountain of underwear and tank tops in the laundry room.
Okay, I responded. But give me two hours.
I had to talk to him. This couldn’t continue. Even if I enjoyed his laid-back attitude and his desire to live in the moment, I had to make sure that we were on the same page about what we were doing. I was afraid someone was going to get hurt.
After the incident with the car, it sure couldn’t hurt to make the house look nice before Mom and Dad came home on Friday. I started with the living room. I straightened, vacuumed, and scrubbed the table. On to the kitchen. I emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it, put stuff away in the cupboards, and scrubbed the counter until it gleamed.
At last I had a whole pile of garbage bags in the entryway. The stench prickled my nostrils as I lugged them through the door.
I absolutely adore those warm summer nights when the sun has set, but there’s still a little bit of light left in the sky, when the air stands perfectly still and the birds are singing lullabies.
After I’d dumped the garbage bags in the bin, I lingered on the driveway, just enjoying a rare sense of peace in my body.
Suddenly something flapped around in the bushes. A quick movement. A bird, maybe?
I walked over to check. More flapping. A large shadow against the wall.
My heart flew into my throat. I didn’t dare breathe.
“Is someone there?” I asked out loud.
Five meters away, the bushes moved again. Rustling leaves, the crack of a twig.
“Who is it?”
I dug through my pockets for my phone but realized I must have left it in the house.
I ran back and pulled the door shut behind me. I flipped both locks and listened to my own gasping breath.
Was I imagining things? Was I becoming paranoid?
Maybe it was just a bird. A large bird. Or some other animal. A cat?
Or was someone sneaking around out there?
* * *
Chris brought a bouquet of roses. I didn’t mention what had happened when I was taking out the trash.
He walked through the house like a museumgoer. The first thing he did in my room was sit on the bed and bounce as if he wanted to check its durability. Then he caught sight of the wall with my map of Asia on it, with pins in all the spots I wanted to see.