Page 127 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

This didn’t just happen. I didn’t let her go. I couldn’t!

Lou, wait. Please wait! For a moment, I want to rush after her and bring her back. Tell her I’ll never ever let her go, but of course I won’t.

Knees shaking, I sink onto the RV’s steps and sit there. I fight back the tears with difficulty while Lou’s outline turns gray and merges with the surroundings. My little, brave, strong, crazy, warmhearted girl. Soon, she’s merely a dot, and then, she’s gone. Just gone.

Everything is kind of easy for you, isn’t it?

But this was not. She knows how hard it is for me and she made it easy for me. The way she made everything light, even my heart.

I stare at the parking lot, paralyzed, unable to do anything. I can’t move, I can’t breathe, I can’t scream. My fists want to smash something, but I just sit there and stare off into the distance. Everything is surreal. It’s like I am experiencing a flashback, like I’m not even here.

Grains of dust float by. The parking lot fills with cars, the sky turns lead gray, and a gusty wind sweeps maple leaves and plastic waste across the asphalt.

I don’t know how much time passes. Maybe it’s only minutes, maybe hours.

Where are you now? Are you already on the bus? Are you okay?

Suddenly, a shadow falls across me. At first, I think it’s Lou and raise my head hopefully, but it’s only a little blonde girl. Wind plays with her long hair.

My stomach knots in disappointment.

“Why are you crying?” she asks me bluntly.

I make an indistinct sound. “I’m not crying. I never cry.”

“Yes, you are.” She points to my face.

I wipe my cheeks in irritation. My hands get wet.

“My brother cries too, sometimes. That’s okay, I think. He’s still quite little.” She studies me, her eyes almost as blue as Lou’s. For a moment, she seems to consider if it’s okay for a man to cry, too. “William cries when he falls and hurts himself. Are you hurting, too?”

“Yes,” I whisper, new tears welling up in my eyes. The numbness that gripped me is leaving me. Hot sadness fills my heart, heavy and dark, clutching my chest, squeezing it. I can’t breathe for a second, thinking I’m choking on the pain. I groan, grabbing my hair in my fists and yanking at the clumps to feel something else.

“Harper!” A nervous woman’s voice echoes over to me. “You’re not supposed to run away!” Footsteps approach. I rock back and forth, back and forth, fists in my hair. I suck in air convulsively, a whistling sound. A young woman with a toddler in her arms and a shopping bag in her hand appears next to the RV. She reaches out to the girl. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she scolds her.

“But he’s crying. He hurt himself.”

“Well, he’ll know what to do.”

I lower my arms, palms full of dark hair.

The woman purposefully looks past me.

Harper looks at me pityingly and holds up her hand. “I have to go.” She grabs her mother’s fingers and lets her pull her along. At some point, she glances over her shoulder. “Put some medicine on it!” she calls out to me. “It will definitely help.”

I wipe my face and stand up, limbs stiff. The dull pressure inside me makes me light-headed and dizzy. Everything hurts, every muscle, every bone, every fiber of my body. When I take a breath, my chest burns as if I had pneumonia. With a jerk, I pull the door of the RV closed behind me and sink to the ground. I curl up on the spot and feel my shoulders shake. I clutch my hair again. Deep, heavy sobs break out of me, and I feel like I’m crying for everything right now.

For Lou, my lost childhood, my mom, the person I could have been, and for all my missed opportunities.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

The world has become empty and meaningless. The days don’t want to go by. It takes an unbearable amount of strength to cope with each and every one and to do everyday things. I’m exhausted, dead tired with grief. The weight lies like lead on my shoulders, making any movement excruciating. Sometimes, it seems to me that someone else is living my life and I am watching him from a great height like an eagle. Occasionally, I give him instructions. Feed the wolf, drink water, wash yourself. But he doesn’t always do what I tell him.

I couldn’t go back to my piece of land after that September day. The mere idea of sitting there alone by the campfire almost killed me. It will never be the same without Lou, there are just too many memories right now.

I drove back to the Yukon, somewhere into Unorganized Canada, an area as jumbled as I feel.

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