Page 95 of Irreversible

Christ, I have a problem.

I exhale, immediately regretting it, since it means taking another breath of garbage air.

Forget the girl, Porter. You’re a dumbass.

But being out of that room has given me clarity, and I can’t shake the feeling that after two years of surviving in that tiny room, Everly Cross won’t be leaving this building alive. That after coming this close, she won’t be seeing me, or anyone else, at all.

I feel it in my gut.

As the men leave, and I lift myself out of the dumpster, I remember something she once said:

“Have you ever made a decision you regret, Isaac?”

I look out into the expanse of dry grass and freedom, then back to the basement window.

And I’m afraid I’m about to.

23

Four-hundred-and-seventy seconds.

That’s how long I’ve been trapped inside my room with Roger’s body. His head is in fragments, and the stench is suffocating. At the five-hundred-second mark, I pull myself up from the mattress, rush over to the toilet, and heave. Sweat and tears trickle down my face as I hold my hair back, emptying my stomach contents into the bowl.

Depleted, I slide down to the tile floor and collapse.

I spare a quick glance at Roger.

Then I yank myself back up and vomit again.

Alarm bells continue to sing from ghostly hallways, making the building come alive. Pressing forward on the toilet rim, weak and out of breath, I turn to look at the wall, imagining Isaac’s voice seeping through. My eyes water. The sirens give me hope that he hasn’t been caught yet. My captor was bluffing, trying to shake me. That monster would love nothing more than to watch me crumble before slitting my throat as my final breath falls out like heartbreak.

I start to pace.

Medicine churns through my bloodstream, keeping my fever at bay. Antibiotics were also given. I’m not sure why, but they have a plan for me.

Or maybe they’re just waiting for the egg transfer to prove successful before tossing me in an incinerator.

Combing my hair back with trembling fingers, I move in tight circles, avoiding the bloodbath at my feet. I refuse to give up, fall, or break. Not yet. I’m not dead, and Isaac is free. He’s hiding. Assessing his surroundings, constructing a plan. I just need to hold out for a little while longer until he?—

My head snaps up when I hear something.

No!

They’ve come for me.

Thinking quickly, I rush over to Roger’s corpse, hoping he has a weapon on him. A gun, a knife, anything. Something for protection. I try not to gag as I search his pockets. I need to?—

“Everly.”

I freeze, my hands stalling midair. Instinctively, I glance up at the wall, blinking rapidly as the voice registers. It can’t be him. “Isaac…?”

Nearly tripping over Roger, I rush over to the wall and plant both hands against it.

But he speaks again.

And he’s not on the other side of the wall—he’s at my door.

“You said you knew the code. I need it.Fast.”

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