Page 59 of Severance

“You should tell him to come too.”

“He won’t.”

“His brother got shot and he won’t support the cause?” Her words cut through the air like a hacksaw, each one causing something inside me to snap.

“Look, he hasn’t told me anything… I just know he won’t.” My voice cracks. “He won’t even talk to me about Dakota.”

I expect Jess to bring up the kiss, but she doesn’t respond. I watch her scoop up the rest of the printouts without saying a word.

When she’s finished, she sets her folder aside and says, “Do you know what I dream about sometimes?”

“What?”

“I dream about putting a lot of bullets through Joseph Miller.” Her gaze locks on mine. “Twenty-four. Where it hurts the most, but it’s not immediately lethal. And then I would watch him slowly bleed to death.”

I feel my eyes growing wider as acid rises in the back of my throat.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it?” she whispers, her words floating in the air like ash.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“Well, maybe you should.” She stands up and grabs her folder. “If we all just keep quiet and suffer in silence, nothing’s going to change.”

“What do you want to change? They’re all dead!” My voice shakes and I start to feel dizzy and sick.

“People like him deserve to die, Alana. It’s only fair that there’s a death penalty in every state.”

I can’t tell if Jess has really changed that much or if she’s just delusional, but politics would normally be the last thing she’d discuss. The old Jess couldn’t tell the difference between republicans and democrats.

Our goodbye is cold and I sit on my bed for a few minutes, processing everything she just said until another wave of nausea sends me running to the bathroom where I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and throw up.

* * *

I pull into a guest parking spot and double check Mikah’s text for the apartment number.

It’s an older complex hiding behind a line of trees. The courtyard isn’t very big, but it’s full of flowers, and the smell of spring blooming feels pleasant and refreshing. After the strange conversation with Jess earlier today, I need something like this—something new and uncorrupted by the events of this winter.

Mikah’s apartment is on the second floor, and when he answers my knock at the door, his greeting is quick with a touch of coldness. He’s wearing a t-shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and an old tattered leather jacket I’ve never seen on him. Maybe it’s one he only wears to wash cars.

“Hi.” I look past his shoulder and notice a huge poster of The Cure on the living room wall.

“Wanna check it out before we go?” Mikah steps aside to let me in.

“I’d love to.”

It’s small with hardly any furniture and a stack of unopened boxes in the corner. It has a weird vibe—it doesn’t feel like a place where someone would want to settle down.

“How’s the ankle, Cupcake Queen? You ready for some physical labor?” Mikah breaks the silence as I study the shelves with his book collection and CDs. Some of those CDs used to sit in Dakota’s room.

“Do you still have his vinyls?” I ask.

There’s a pause and it dawns on me. I’m still expected to honor our initial agreement. Dakota and the night of the attack are the things we’re not going to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“Are you wearing that?” Mikah motions at me, changing the subject. “You know you’re going to get wet, right?”

“It’s fine. They’re not new,” I explain. I’ve got tons of jeans and shirts. Besides, they’re just clothes.

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