I wonder if he did it on purpose.
When it gets to be too much, and I have to look away, my eyes fall on the sliding glass door in the back of the room, unlocked and the blinds pushed aside, just like it was that night. I stare out into the darkness and wonder if someone is out there watching me now—if they saw him fall from the balcony or lying lifeless in the backyard.
I can't eventhinkhis name now. It makes him too real, too human.
I remember how heavy he was that night; my muscles still ache from dragging his corpse across the rough terrain. I remember he was still warm, and that I wished rigor mortis had set in because his limp limbs made him so difficult to maneuver through the woods. Normal people don't know how that feels, and now that I do, I don't feel normal anymore.
I remember being angry at him because his belt kept catching on rocks and tree roots. I feel guilty for that, too.
Tears sting my eyes, and I squeeze them shut. I wonder how long it'll be before I'm able to sit in silence without thinking of him. I wonder why he hated Elias so much, and why they're all so sure Miles is the bad guy.
Maybe they were friends.
As the credits roll, Nolan moves somewhere in my periphery, startling my attention back from the ominous backyard. I breathe an audible sigh of relief when he locks the door and pulls the blinds closed.
"Arcadia, let's go," Elias calls, patting his leg. She gets up from the floor, stretching before following him toward the staircase.
"Elias?"
He pauses, turning to face me, his eyebrow raised. "What do you want?"
"Can I have the dog? Please?"
"No."
He turns, heading up the stairs with the dog at his heels. My shoulders slump, and I drop my head into my hands before raking them through my hair.
"Damn," Dax says. "You're really scared, aren't you, Ripley?"
I look up at him and nod. I don't really see the point in lying about it.
"I told you nothing is going to happen to you here," Nolan says.
"Everythinghappened to me here," I tell him. "What's stopping the person who broke into my car and my bedroom from busting through that glass door?"
"The three of us."
"That doesn't necessarily make me feel better. I don't find the presence of three men who relentlessly bullied me for years particularly comforting."
"Well, why don't you go find all of those other people who care about you so much and ask them to keep you safe then, Saige?" Dax asks. "Oh, wait…"
He has a point. I don't have any friends—not any who care about me enough to do something like that, no one I truly trust. A wave of hopelessness washes over me.
But that's their fault, too, isn't it? They made sure of it.
I blink back tears; I'm too tired for this shit. Sighing, I get up from the couch. "I'm going to bed."
"Wait a second, wait a second," Dax says, stopping me with a hand on my shoulder.
Sighing, I turn around. "What?What, Dax?"
"I'm sorry. Open your mouth."
I shake my head. "I don't want to."
"Relax," he says, coaxing my mouth open with his thumb. "I'm trying to help you, sweetheart."
I give in, opening just a little, and with his other hand, he sets something small and bitter at the center of my tongue.
