Page 5 of Survive the Night

“Film noir?” Charlie shakes her head. After a year of dating, has she taught him nothing?

“Yeah, one of those. You’re being held captive against your will and the only way to get help is by speaking in code to your worried boyfriend.”

“What’s the code?” Charlie says, playing along, grateful for the way Robbie’s choosing to wrap up this goodbye.

Not sad.

Cinematic.

“ ‘Things took a detour.’ ”

The way Robbie says it makes Charlie assume he’s trying to imitate Bogart, even though it sounds more like Jimmy Stewart to her ears.

“And if everything is fine?”

“ ‘It’s smooth sailing, sweetheart.’ ”

This time he really does sound like Bogart, and hearing it makes Charlie’s heart crack open a bit.

“I love you,” she says.

“I know.”

Charlie can’t tell if Robbie’s response is an intentionalStar Warsreference or if it’s just a happy accident. Either way, she doesn’t care, because now he’s kissing her again and hugging her one last time and saying goodbye for real, in a way that’s sadder than any movie. The pain in her chest grows—an acute ache Charlie expects will stay with her the entire ride home.

“You’re still special, Charlie,” Robbie says. “I need you to know that.”

Then he’s gone and it’s only her. Standing alone at the curb with her box and two suitcases, the situation finally feels real.

She’s doing it.

She’s actually leaving.

In a few hours she’ll be home, probably watching a movie with Nana Norma, maybe on her way to returning to the person she used to be.

Charlie opens her backpack and fishes out the orange pill bottle that’s been rattling around at the bottom of it since September. Inside the bottle is more orange—tiny tablets that always reminded her of M&M’s when she took one. Back when shedidtake them.

She lied to Robbie about that. It’s been three days since she gulped one down, even though the psychiatrist who prescribed them promised they’d keep the movies in her mind at bay. And they did. But they also made her both drowsyandrestless, her body constantly veering between those two extremes. The result was weeks of sleepless nights and lost days. A vampire. That’s what the orange pills turned her into.

To counteract that, the psychiatrist also gave Charlie a prescription for little white pills to help her sleep.

Those were worse.

So much worse that she had already gotten rid of them.

Now it’s time to say goodbye to the orange ones. She’s through with pills of any color.

Charlie steps off the curb and walks a few yards to a storm drain carved into the asphalt. She pours the pills into it, enjoying the twinge of satisfaction she gets from watching them bounce off the metal grate before dropping into the darkness below. The bottle goes into a nearby trash can.

Returning to her box and suitcases, Charlie pulls her red coat tighter around her. The November night is pitched precisely between autumn and winter. The sky is clear and the stars are bright, but there’s a sharp chill to the air that makes her shiver. Or maybe the shiver comes from the fact that she’s now alone outside while there’s a killer on the loose.

Even if she didn’t realize that danger on her own, she’d be reminded by the Take Back the Night flyer taped to the streetlamp next to her. The flyers are a direct response to Maddy’s murder. As were the candlelit vigils. And guest speakers. And grief counselors who descended onto campus armed with pamphlets and good intentions.

Charlie avoided all of it, preferring to grieve alone. As a result, she also missed out on the sense of fear that’s gripped campus for the past two months. She spent most of her time locked in her room and thus had no reason to be scared.

Now, however, she feels a frigid tingle on the back of her neck. Not helping is the list of rules printed on the flyer, most of which she’s currently disobeying.

Never go out alone at night.

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