She exhales a soft laugh, and I swear it does something to me. It calms me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It also brings me a sense of relief—for her. The horror isn’t swallowing her whole anymore. It’s something she can step outside of long enough to make fun of.
Back inside the cabin, the air feels warmer than it did last night. The vibe in here somehow feels familiar, too. Lived in. There’s towels draped over chairs, a half-empty bag of marshmallows on the counter, the bed still unmade.
Evidence of us.
I pull off my beanie and watch her move around the small space like she belongs here. This was always temporary, I know that, but it’s still significant.
For both of us.
“We’re almost done,” I say, clearing my voice slightly.
Alma turns to look at me. “You’re sure?”
I nod. “Another day or two, at most. What’s left won’t last long.”
Her nostrils flare the tiniest bit, teeth gently embedding into her bottom lip as she processes what I’ve just said, Relief is complicated. It doesn’t always arrive cleanly. Sometimes it brings other things along with it—reality, next steps, the fact that once this is over, there’s nothing forcing us to remain in the same orbit.
She can go back to her life and I to mine…
“You handled today well,” I follow that up, sauntering into the small kitchen area. “Really well, actually. I’m proud of you.”
When I glance over my shoulder, her head’s tilted aside, brow lifted curiously as a smirk plays on her full lips. “Is that my performance review?”
“Exceeds expectations. Great listener. Strong adaptability under pressure. Minimal screaming.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection threaded through it now. Chucking softly, she gives a little shake to her head and I note how it fades as she scans the room. Her throat bobs through a swallow, gaze flicking over to where I stand. “This is the last night, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer immediately because the truth of it feels heavier than I ever expected.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “Tomorrow we’ll pack up, check the pit one more time on the way out. Then we’ll go…back to real life.”
Real life.
How can two small words feel so overwhelming?
Alma nods and closes the space between us, stopping within arm’s reach. “Does that make you nervous?”
I consider that for a moment. Ishouldbe, I suppose. I’m an accomplice now, and if the guilt becomes more than she can bear, I could find myself in a prison cell. But for whatever reason…I’m not.
“No,” I admit. “I’m not worried about the pit, or the timeline. I’m not even worried about the logistics of everything.”
She takes another step toward me, her voice now lower and much softer. “Whatareyou worried about?”
“You,” I say simply, and I don’t miss the way her breath catches slightly.
“Why?”
“Because once this isn’t about survival anymore, it’s about choice.”
That last bit lingers. Choice hits differently than if I had said necessity.
“And you don’t like variables,” she whispers, shaking my head of its own accord.
“I prefer controlled environments.”
“And I’m not controlled.”
“No,” I agree with a small laugh. “You’re not.”
