Page 33 of Heart Sick

“It’s also a really good place to hide things.”

I have no idea what he means until he points to the walls.

I squint and am almost doubtful I see them, but when I reach out and feel the indents made into the walls, my stomach roils in disgust.

They’re fingernail marks, as if someone was clawing at the walls to stop from being led down this nefarious path.

“I don’t like what’s behind door number one,” I say in a mere whisper as it suddenly feels very wrong being down here.

We continue walking until the tunnel opens up and we’re faced with two pathways. When I see the claw marks continue to the right, I gesture with my head to the left.

Bowie nods as I need time to prepare for whatever faces us on the right.

We take the tunnel to the left and I notice it’s not as cold this way. It’s probably my imagination playing tricks on me. I’ve never done anything like this before. Having Misha when I was so young meant I couldn’t do all the stuff teenagers my age did.

When my peers were out causing trouble, I was scrambling for money to feed my son. I don’t regret it, but doing something like this does feel a little fun.

And when I see a ladder up ahead, the fun it seems, has just begun.

Misha stops by it and peers up at the manhole. He waits for me to give him instruction.

I nod because there is no way we’re turning back now.

“Wait down here.”

Scoffing, I gesture he’s to climb the ladder as I will be following close behind. This isn’t negotiable.

He takes the steps carefully as they are pretty narrow and they lead up quite high. I follow behind, the cool steel rungs stinging my bare feet, but I persevere. He reaches the manhole and this is the moment of truth.

There aren’t any handles, so he places his hands on the steel and attempts to shift it. It doesn’t budge. But he doesn’t give up.

He tries moving it from different angles, putting everything behind it. I hold my breath. This can’t have been for nothing.

Just when I’m about to tell him it’s useless, I hear it—the shifting of dirt.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, straining my head back to see if he in fact did it.

He did.

When he’s able to slide it across just enough for him to slip his fingers through, Bowie grips the edge of the manhole and using his body weight, he moves it across until we are staring up into a star-filled sky. I don’t believe my eyes.

Sliver by sliver, the world is unveiled before me and it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.

Bowie bolsters himself through the hole with ease and when he’s out, he offers me his hand. I accept and when I join where he stands, I take a moment to appreciate our surroundings.

We’re outside—and I mean that in every literal sense there is.

Turning around, I see we are standing outside the east wing of Parkfields. And when I say outside, I mean we are standing on the other side of the fence. No longer are we trapped inside looking in; we are outside looking in.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” I can’t believe we are out.

Bowie’s cheeks bellow and a puff of smoke escapes him. “That was easy.”

A laugh spills from me because it really wasn’t. But here we are.

I feel like a bird being freed from her cage—this is my freedom. But am I ready to spread my wings and fly free?

I take a moment to peer into the skies and just be present with the universe. I’ve not done that in a long time because I haven’t wanted to be a part of this world. I still don’t want to be, but I want that choice to be mine.

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