CHAPTER 10
It takes about a week for me to work up the bravery to take my first life. Well, notactuallytaking a life, since I plan to find people who are already dying. The days have been bleeding into each other, marked only by the shadows crawling across my bedroom with the rising and setting of the sun.
I occasionally go downstairs for food, but I never stay down there long. Seeing Ambrose’s smug detachment about this entire situation only infuriates me more.
But at this point, anything would be better than another day of confinement. I need to dosomething, and the most productive use of my time involves getting through this bargain I’ve made as quickly and painlessly as possible.
“I’m leaving,” I announce as I stand in the entryway of the living room with my arms crossed.
Ambrose raises an eyebrow from where he sits on the couch. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’m going to fulfill my end of this bullshit deal you tricked me into. I need directions and car keys.”
His lips curl into a smile. “Wow, look at you taking initiative.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
He stands from his spot on the couch. “Where do you need directions to?”
“The nearest hospital.”
He flashes me a questioning expression as if to say, “Are you sure?” but when I stay stone-faced and expectant, he brushes past me into the dining room where a notebook lays open on the table.
He writes out directions, tears the page from the perforated edge, then hands it to me. I skim the elegant cursive handwriting, though I’m not sure why I’m checking it over. It’s not like I know my way around here enough to know if anything was off.
“Keys to the Camaro are on the key ring by the door. And here,” Ambrose says, pulling the necklace over his head and holding it out to me. “I think you’ll be able to channel a portion of its power, but I’m not sure, so don’t count on that for your plans.”
I snatch it from his outstretched hand. “How do I do that?”
“Just focus on what you want, envision yourself becoming invisible to anyone whose attention you don’t want, or vice versa. You’ll be back tonight?”
I wish I could say, “No, fuck off, I’m leaving forever,” but I can’t. Instead, I answer with a muttered, “Yeah,” before snatching up the keys and slamming the door behind me.
I probably look like a teenager throwing a tantrum with my attitude, but I really don’t care. I need some sort of release for this anger churning inside of me, and Ambrose is annoyingly calm about all of it thus far. Still, no reaction ismuch better than the reactions I had come to expect back home.
A jolt of fear still pierces me whenever I snap at him, but the violence I’ve come to expect as a result of my disobedience never appears.
I slide into the leather seat of the old black Camaro in the driveway and turn the key in the ignition. It hums beneath me, the gravel crunching under the tires as I pull out of the driveway. After checking Ambrose’s directions one more time and memorizing where my next two turns will be, I turn onto the serpentine mountain road and accelerate.
The road twists and turns, rises and falls, and the speedometer climbs.
Soon, I’m flying down the sharp curves of the winding mountain rounds with the wind whipping my hair in every direction. I’m going too fast, taking the turns too sharp, but I don’t care. The recklessness is exhilarating, the combination of danger and liberation stirring something deep within me.
For the first time in a very long time, I feelalive.
My stomach swoops as I crest a hill too quickly and I smile. It makes no sense, since I know I’ll need to head back to the cabin before the end of the night, but the temporary freedom overwhelms me with euphoria.
It’s funny how such small, simple moments like this can be so profound. These infinitesimal slivers of happiness are like pinpricks of starlight in the black sky—transient, but enough to shine a little light in the darkness. And for now, that’s enough to keep me going for one more hour, one more day.
I manage to follow Ambrose’s directions without getting lost, passing by the occasional dilapidated buildings with rusted tin roofs and caving walls being consumed byovergrowth. Finally, the hospital comes into sight as I pull off the highway exit.
I park on the far end of the hospital parking lot, in the shadows cast by the perfectly straight line of trees. I don’t plan on doing anything overtly suspicious, but it feels right to be obscured in the shadows. Or maybe it’s just my subconscious telling me to stay hidden because of what I’m about to do.
WhatamI about to do? Even I’m not entirely sure.
I figured a hospital would be the best place to find what I’m looking for: someone who’s about to die anyway but is young enough that they may have a couple decades to give. Ambrose had said the years collected go by how many years the person would “naturally” have, so if someone’s in the hospital due to an accident, they’re probably my best bet. I don’t know if I’ll manage to find someone who fits the bill, but at the very least I can get a few months from an elderly person.
Maybe.
