Page 100 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

“Killer of the unprepared.”

“What?” Lou stares at me.

“Killer of the unprepared. It’s a term for death by hypothermia. In Canada, it catches a few tourists every year. Windy and wet climate with temperatures around forty degrees are the best conditions.” I eye her somberly, feeling a touch of anger I don’t want to feel. “What were you thinking? Running through the wilderness at night and even crossing a river… I thought you couldn’t swim.” With a bitter taste in my mouth, I shake my head.

“Well, I can’t,” Lou whispers. “But what choice did I have?”

Something in my stomach convulses. “None, I guess,” I reply far too harshly and far too mockingly. “It seems I’m more terrible than death.” Better not to get used to the feeling of closeness. Better not to let hope hurt me.

Without paying any more attention to her, I pack the sucked-empty breakfast bag. “I’ve already fed Grey. I’ll wrap your ankle and then take you back.”

A strange sound comes out of Lou’s mouth, maybe not a real sound at all, but a shaky breath.

“Back? Back to where?”

My hand, reaching to close the backpack buckle, stops mid-air. I realize what I said. Lou’s question hangs between us, leaving a thick silence.

“To the RV, of course, where else?” I say after a moment as if it were a matter of fact. I pull the leather strap through the loop and stare at the buckle.

“Of course,” I hear Lou whisper next to me, hoarsely as if speaking against a flood of tears.

Crap! I can almost physically feel her desperation, cutting into my gut, tugging at my heart. I have to say something to her. Something to comfort her because it’s not her damn fault she’s sad, it’s mine.

“Lou?” I whisper softly, looking at her. She sits hunched on the sleeping bag, rocking back and forth, tears rolling down her face.

My throat starts to burn. “You thought something would change because I drank that stuff, didn’t you?” I ask hoarsely.

She nods and keeps looking at me, crying.

“I’m sorry.” From far away, I hear my voice echo. Everything’s kind of easy for you, isn’t it?

“I wish I could let you go,” I say honestly. “I wish I could show you what you mean to me.”

“So do it!” she sobs through tears.

“I can’t.” I look past her to the golden willow tree on the other bank. Just the thought drains me and leaves me empty. I cannot do it. I will never be able to.

I notice she tries to lock eyes with me, but I keep staring past her. “M-maybe…maybe someday?” she asks haltingly.

“I took the drug because I was a danger to you,” I reply softly. “I was in the middle of a blackout and anything is better than hurting you. At that moment, even losing you is better than hurting you or you falling.” I force myself to look at her again, as to do otherwise would be cowardly and unfair. Only cowards look the other way.

Her shoulders tremble and she wraps her arms around herself, a lonely consolation. “Maybe someday? Bren,” she repeats and there’s an unbearable helplessness in her words. “Please tell me…maybe someday? Only someday.”

She looks at me. I can’t stand that look. She believes in something in me. She could make me a good person. A good person who does good things that he fears. She could make me who I would have been if my stepfather hadn’t existed.

I smile sadly because I don’t think I can ever overcome those shadows.

I silently wrap her ankle, but her words haunt me the entire time. It tears me up hearing her cry, knowing I could change it. I think of my answered prayers that night and my promise to make things better for her even though she probably didn’t hear it. I think about how she spoke to me every time I had a flashback. She brought me back with words I can’t even remember.

When I’m done, I look up at her. How to make it better for someone?

I gently place my hand on her wet cheek. I stroke her skin with my thumb, wiping away the tears still streaming down her face.

I always thought hope could break a person. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe it’s also hope that keeps us alive for so long even when all we see is darkness. Was I hopeful back on Thorson Ave? If yes, for how long? I can no longer recall. But maybe it’s not important at all. This is about Lou and all she needs right now is a light.

I take a deep breath, look at her, holding her gaze. “Maybe can mean never—and someday ten years.” She swallows and trembles. “So, okay…Lou.” I wipe a few more tears from her face. “Maybe someday. Maybe someday. But don’t ever ask me that again.”

Chapter

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