My heart shatters into pieces, and every piece leaves with her.
When you have been as lonely as I have, when there is only one living thing that makes you feel less alone, losing it leaves a hole that nothing can fill. Now there is only empty space where she used to be.
If I could turn back time, I would turn it only for her. If I could give away every year I have left to live, I would give them to her. I would trade them without hesitation, just to give her the full life she deserves.
And whoever says this was meant to be has never lost a best friend. Someone who never wanted anything in return. Someone who never asked for more than a walk and a full bowl. A simple life. The kind of life we humans forget how to live.
I wish I had hugged you a little tighter. I wish I knew. I am sorry, Daisy. I didn’t think it would be the last time.
Arms wrap around me from behind. I jerk away, tightening my hold on Daisy. I refuse to let her go.
Then a sharp sting bites into my neck.
I turn my head.
Rourke stands there, a syringe in his hand. A clear drop slides from the needle and falls to the floor.
“Why?” I whisper.
My eyelids grow heavy. Dark creeps in from the edges of my eyes. I still cling to Daisy, pressing my face into her fur. I want to hold her until I can’t feel anything anymore.
He says nothing.
He just watches.
My knees buckle. I sink to the floor, the room spinning, the weight of the world slipping away.
Then everything goes blank.
***
I blink once. Then again.
A thin line of light leaks in from somewhere ahead, a narrow window or a gap in a wall.
I don’t know.
It cuts through the dark like a blade. The space in front of me feels wrong, too long, too narrow. Not a hallway. Not quite another room, it was like something in between.
I try to stand.
My legs shake as soon as my weight shifts. I manage one step before pain snaps tight around my left ankle. Metal scrapes against stone. The chain yanks me back, hard, and I stumble, crashing to the floor.
My breath leaves me in a sharp cry.
“Hello?” I shout.
No answer.
I crawl back to the thin mattress on the floor. It smells stale, damp. I collapse onto it, and the sob breaks loose. My chest heaves. Tears soak my face, falling down my cheeks, unstoppable.
Years without crying. Years of pretending my heart was frozen solid. It all fractures now, shattering within a week of my arrival in Eureka Springs.
I curl into myself, my back pressed to the wall, knees pulled tight to my chest. My face disappears against my legs as I choke on my breathing.
I can hear footsteps.
The hard clap of boots against tile is coming closer. My body stiffens.
