Page 223 of Deviant

But my relief is short-lived because just as suddenly come all the memories of the last couple of months to the forefront of my mind. Especially the last memory I have of Elias, him jumping off the cliff, his smile getting lost in the fog.

Tears well up in my eyes as I try to recall all the other tender moments I spent with him.

If I’m alive, I have Elias to thank.

He saved me.

In more ways than one.

And now that he’s gone, I feel just as lost as when he found me.

Maybe even more so… for how can I be expected to go on without him by my side?

Do you trust me?

Why would he ask me such a question just seconds away before killing himself?

And why did he wink at me? Did he think flinging himself from a cliff would be funny to me?

Maybe I lost my mind in the mansion, like so many others before me, but there must be a reason he would do such a thing.

Or maybe I’m just asking all these questions because a part of me wants to believe that Elias survived such a fall. I mean, Isaw how he dived off that waterfall when we were hiking to our deaths that one time. He made the dive look like child’s play.

He’s a strong swimmer, of that I have no doubt.

He could have made it.

It’s not impossible, just unlikely.

‘No, Rowen. No one could have survived that fall,’my subconscious warns, and I know it’s right.

It must have been at least a hundred-foot drop from the cliff down into the water. Deluding myself that Elias is somehow alive is just setting me up for more heartache.

Still… wouldn’t I feel him gone?

After he jumped, I felt such excruciating pain that made me consider jumping in after him. It was only when I remembered his wink—that little wink of his just before he took that fatal leap—that I found the courage to pull myself off the ground and continue following the remaining rules of the game.

Why would he wink?

Knowing that would be my last memory of him?

There has got to be a reason for it.

Or maybe he did it just to give you a glimmer of hope to cling on to, knowing that it would be the only way for you to survive without him.

Hating that thought, I turn my attention to the window and watch the scenery pass me by.

It’s nothing like back home.

There are no mountains here.

No large dense forests.

No clouds or fog.

Just a clear night sky hovering over city buildings and highways—a total different civilization from the one I came from.

Once I arrive in Boston, I prefer to walk rather than hail a cab to the nearest and cheapest hotel I can find. With the cashHenry gave me, they’ll probably expect me to go to some fancy hotel to live it up and celebrate my win. But what’s to celebrate?

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