The Words We Keep

I wake again, this time for real, in darkness, on the floor by Alice’s bed.

The blood is gone.

But Alice is here.

Her eyes are open, small white lights in the blackness. A fresh gauze wrapped around her head.

“You’re home,” I say, because it’s all I can think.

“I’m home,” she whispers.

I reach up to hold her hand, and to my surprise, she lets me.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say.

“I know,” she says. “I didn’t mean to get hurt.” She rolls over to stare at the ceiling. “I just kept thinking maybe I could fly as high as I feel. I could fly out of myself and finally be free.” A tear streaks from the corner of her eye onto the sheets, making a dark, wet circle.

“I told Dad,” I whisper. “About the medicine.”

“I know.”

“What happens now?”

Alice breathes out, long and slow. “They’ve pumped me full of all sorts of meds,” she says. “So I guess, first, I fade away.”

She says this so hopelessly, it crushes me. And all I can think is how she swam out to save me. How she must have been terrified, but she pretended to be fearless—for me. And I’ve failed her.

“Maybe you won’t.”

She laughs, a forced chuckle full of hurt. “I will. But maybe that’s not so bad. Maybe everyone will be better off without me.”

I don’t tell her that I feel the exact same way. We’ve had enough truth—enough pain—for one day. I lay my head against her bed, our hands clasped together as we drift off.

—

When I open my eyes again, the room spins. I steady myself on Alice’s mattress to stand up, trying not to wake her. My head feels light, disconnected, like it could topple off my body if I let it. My side hurts, too, and I lift my shirt to examine the infected wound, which now has angry red streaks that reach, like little fingers, toward my heart. I’m chilled to my core, but my skin is sticky with sweat.

Even though I’m tipsy, a strange energy surges through me.

My mind is alive with a million scattered thoughts.

And Alice’s words burst through the rest, loudloudloud.

Better off without me.

The words take my breath way.

And yet, there’s something familiar in them. Like the answer has been there, staring me in the face, waiting for me to wake up and listen. Like I’ve known it all along.

Isn’t this what the monsters have been telling me?

You don’t belong here.

Isn’t that why I slip out of myself? Why the tug of the ocean felt so easy? Why I imagined jumping into the Grand Canyon?

That’s when I see the box, tucked under my bed. I slide across the floor, sweep my arm, and pull it out. I run my finger across all the razors and pencil sharpeners and scissors. Maybe Alice had it right on the Night of the Bathroom Floor. If pain is all we’re going to feel anyway, why not bring it on?

No!

I shove the blades away from me. I can’t do that to Dad. To Margot. To Micah.

They won’t miss you.

You’re a burden.

They’d be relieved.

I push the box back under the bed and grab my phone instead. I could call someone. Micah. Or Sam. I could tell someone that my brain is finally breaking. They could help me.

If they even believe you,

and they’d probably tell Dad

and stick you in a room with a cop in the corner, too.

I hold my head, try to shake out the monsters. But they won’t go. Won’t shut up.

Other words swirl through me. Dad. Margot. Micah. Alice.

That’s my girl.

Suck out your soul with a kiss.

One for all, right?

The monsters always find me. Why try?

Better off without me.

I grab a pen and a hot-pink Post-it note off Alice’s desk and write down the words I can catch.

Fight or flight.

That’s what they say.

So what do you do

when your body

is too weak

when your mind

is too crowded

and your lungs

are out of air?

When you’re tired

of waging war

on yourself?

When you don’t want to live,

and you don’t want to die

but your fight has left

drop

by drop

by drop

and the only thing left to do

is fly?

My heart has gone wild, bursting through my chest.

This room is shrinking.

I have to get out.

I put on my sneakers and make my way down the stairs, gripping the handrail all the way so I don’t fall.

I step into the night air.

And I do the only thing I can.

Run.

Ridgeline Underground

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Listen up, Undergrounders. Micah Mendez is looking for Lily Larkin tonight. Please message if you’ve seen her. URGENT.

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