Page 57 of Together We Rot

And she’s got every right to be.

My body is a ticking time bomb.

When it goes off, I need to be as far away from Wil as I can. I love her.

And for that reason alone, I’ll do the unthinkable. I’ll turn myself in, my life for hers. Because at the end of the day, what does it matter if I stay breathing if her life is in danger? My staying here would kill her. You don’t keep a lion as a house cat. There are creatures that can turn on you in the blink of an eye, and now I’m one of them.

Nothing is funny, and yet I could almost laugh. My family was right. Breaking this cycle, saving myself, none of these things were ever really an option, were they? The seed’s been planted, and the roots have tethered and grown. My family will dig the blade into my chest and my blood and bones will be laid among moss and earth. I don’t want to die. I want to run fast enough to escape myself. Flee my life and my body and this horrible fate.

But there’s no stopping the demon inside me. Once it comes to full fruition, my transformation will be worse than death. There’s no outrunning it. I steel myself for what’s to come, but it’s not enough to stop the sickness rising in my throat. I’ve chosen to die.

I search the room for something to write on. I sneak over to the vanity, searching aimlessly for a pen and paper.

All I find are eye shadows in every possible shade of blue; eyeliner sticks so dull, they’re rendered useless; spilling, half-empty bottles of foundation; bubble-gum-pink blush; and a couple thousand tubes of red lipstick. I grab one of the latter, popping off the top and examining the inside. The one in my hands looks fresh from the store, unused and still pointed at the top.

I lean closer to the mirror, brandishing the lipstick like a pen. It feels like a horrible cliché, one step away from scrawling XOXO and pressing a kiss to the glass.

The lipstick snaps off with the end of the sentence. There’s so much more I wish to say, but what I wrote will have to suffice. My last look at her will have to last a lifetime.

My fingers rest carefully on the knob and I twist, ever so gently. By some miracle, it drifts open on quiet hinges. Portraits line the wall, painted eyes watching my every move. Questioning whether I’m truly doing the right thing.

I am.

Change is coming. Disaster is imminent. If both paths of fate lead to bitter ends, allow me to choose my demise.

I creep up the staircase to the foyer. Five more steps and I’ll reach the front door.

“You’re leaving?” Cherry calls from the couch, stopping me dead in my tracks. My breathing stops. I twist to look at her. She speaks as though she’s discussing the rain, calling out a storm already brewing in the distance.

My fingers freeze on the doorknob. “Are you going to try to stop me?”

She sniffs. “Is this because of the cards?”

“You and I both know what’s coming.” Cherry stares at me, her eyes penetrating. “Don’t let Wil come looking for me,” I beg her. “You told me that we’re all allowed one big mistake in our lives. Please. Don’t have me make another. I don’t know who I’ll become soon.” The words fly out from me, free at last after spending so long imprisoned in my mind.

She huffs, easing herself up from her chair and unlocking the door for me. “You are not captive here.” Her words are a massive relief. “What you’re doing is reckless, but it’s your decision. I can’t promise anything, but I will talk with Wil. We all know that listening isn’t her strong suit, though.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, bracing myself to cross the threshold. To leave the safety of her home and race out into the night. To abandon the very last of my humanity.

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet,” she says, guilt spreading across her face. “I fear releasing you might be my biggest mistake.”

I try to respond, but the woods call and I answer them instead, running out into the wild night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

WIL

“How did you sleep—?” My voice dies in my throat. I expect to see Elwood’s dark hair, his sleepy eyes lifting my way, but I see nothing. He’s gone.

No. He must be upstairs with Cherry, drinking a warm cup of elderberry tea, sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me to come up.

Or he left. The bitter thought drags back up, reminding me of last night. The moment where I felt like I honestly, truly loved him.

My skin runs ice-cold, my throat clenching on its own like a phantom hand has curled around it. Outside, the screaming wind has died down, and the snowfall is no longer one monstrous veil of white. It’s all coming to an end.

... And then my eyes fall to a note on the mirror:

I’m sorry, Wil. Please don’t look for me.

---