Page 46 of The Quiet Tenant

You remember the cameras.

But he didn’t see the pads. Nothing happened then.

Are there cameras?

You can’t be sure.

What about his job in the clouds?

Looking down at you.

Ready to swoop down on you.

Maybe you run. You search for someone’s home, for a store. An open door. Someone who will listen.

And in the meantime? He gets an alert on his phone. He looks atthe livestream on the app. He sees you, hears you. He rushes home. He is furious. You have betrayed him, betrayed his trust. There is no coming back from that.

He finds you before you get to safety. Drives to the woods and does to you what he should have done five years ago. Everything goes black. You can’t believe this is how it ends. No one will know you were alive this whole time. No one will understand you could have been saved.

Or he doesn’t look at his phone. He comes home and realizes you’re gone. He knows what’s coming. Police sirens, a capture, a reckoning. He doesn’t want to be here for any of it. He lifts his gun to his head and shoots.

Another scenario: He puts his kid in the truck. Tells her they must leave now, no time to pack bags. He drives and drives and drives and is never found. He and Cecilia live on as aged-up composites on the FBI’s website.

Or he takes the gun, puts his daughter in the truck, and drives to a remote location. Maybe he kills her before he kills himself. You saw that first night in the house, the terror in his eyes when she called his name, when she almost busted him. You’ve heard sounds at night, steps down a hallway. The girl, she looks at him like he is a certain kind of man. He will do anything to keep that version of himself alive.

You do not want him to die. It confuses you, but you know that you do not. And you do not want his child to die, either.

You always thought when the moment came you’d know for sure.

If this isn’t the moment, what is?

If this isn’t it, when do you get out?

Your mother and your father and your brother.

Julie, the friend you never deserved. Matt.

For five years, they have been waiting.

They need you alive.

You need you alive.

You always thought when the moment came you’d know for sure.

This isn’t the moment.

You are in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged next to the radiator.

Does this mean you believe a second chance will come? Do you trust you will get another opportunity? A better, safer one?

This is your life. You saved yourself on the first day and you have saved yourself every day since. No one has come to your rescue. You have been doing this alone and you will come out of this alone.

This isn’t the moment.

So where does that leave you?

You can’t believe yourself. You bite your lips, tug at the delicate skin, bite down harder and harder and harder until something gives. You taste metal. You taste warmth. A fury grows in you, threatens to swallow you. You want to cry, shriek, wail. Conjure up a thunderstorm with the powers of your mind. You want numbness. You want to soar above it all. You want to stop feeling the many parts of you being torn apart.

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