It’s one hell of a long drop. I let my legs swing over the side, stretching out my arms and leaning back on my hands, and I wait.
I always wanted to watch the sunrise from here, even though the signs say it’s dangerous. I nearly did, once, but Max practically carried me away when I tried to edge my way out onto this particular ridge.
Today, I’m doing whatIwant to do.
It’s a beautiful morning. The sun rises across the mountain range in front of me, glints of purple and blue making way for pink and orange, yellow and red. A kaleidoscope of color that sets the world on fire, or so it feels up here.
I don’t think I ever appreciated having this on my doorstep. It’s always too easy to take it for granted. To think it’ll always be here.
I hope it will. It’s a comforting thought, even though I won’t be here to see it.
After another hour, when the sky has changed to a deep, clear blue, I start making my way back down.
I stop off at the trailer on the way, my heart clenching when I see the bike. I forgot they did that. That they fixed it, Max and Jake kneeling on the ground with frowns on their faces.
It felt like before, when I opened the door.
I leave my bike where it is with a small stab of regret. I doubt I’d get back up the mountain with it, not when my legs still feel like jelly thanks to my eventful night and morning hike. I make my way down slowly into Widow’s Peak, stopping off at the bakery.
The owner, an older beta in her sixties, sniffs at me disapprovingly. But she serves me, torn between her integrityand her desire to make a living as she hands over a bag of fresh pastries with a glare.
I hand over the twenty dollars Rick left me, offering her a sunny smile that makes her blanch. “Can I get the change in coins, please?”
I don’t keep my head down. Not today. I meet every gawking gaze, smile in response to every glare.
It’s surprisingly freeing. The only time I duck my head is walking past Brett’s statue. He doesn’t get to ruin today for me.
Although the call I’m about to make just might. Nausea surges up my throat as I step into the call box, pulling the door closed behind me in an attempt at privacy.
“Hello. This is Springfields Residential Center.”
I have to clear my throat. “Hi. My name is Kennedy Traylor. I… I have a key worker with you, Joanne, and I wondered if I could speak to her please?”
“Sure, hon.” Rapid tapping in the background. “Puttin’ you through.”
My Center key worker is a brisk-sounding beta. I’ve only met her once, at Abram’s office, but she seems competent enough, if a little cold. But then, I guess she has to be. “Kennedy Traylor. I’ve been trying to track you down for quite a while, you know.”
My cheeks burn. “Sorry.”
Joanne sighs. “I’m glad to hear from you. You’re an unusual case for us, I’ll admit. How are you feeling?”
Breathe. “I… I think I’m ready for pick-up.”
It feels like I’ve signed my own death warrant. But Eric was first. Who’ll be next?
Joanne is silent for a moment. “Has something happened?”
“Not… not really.” I stare down at the ground, blinking away the mist in my eyes. “But I think it would be better. Am I able to arrange it like that? For maybe… the day after tomorrow?”
“We can pick-up in forty-eight hours. It’ll be around ten on Tuesday morning.”
It sounds so cold. As though I’m a parcel, to be collected and dumped in a room. “Okay. Thank you.”
The logistics are over and done, agreed in the space of a few short minutes. I still have plenty of change left in my pocket when the end of my life has been wrapped up in a neat little bow.
By the time I get back to the trailer, my legs are shaking. I only have a few hours before I need to leave again for the diner.
I debate not showing up, but… it’s not like I have anything better to do, really. It might be nice to be around people.
