Sloth

around her. She nestled against him, and they stood in silence, watching the sun blaze toward the horizon. The desert stretched on forever, still and silent, miles of emptiness in every direction. It seemed like civilization, and along with it, her life, her problems, and everyone else in the world were just figments of her imagination.

So it was especially strange that, for the first time in months, she felt like she wasn’t alone.

Harper huddled under her covers with the phone cradled to her chest for more than an hour before she got up her nerve to call.

He didn’t answer, and she almost hung up-but she stopped herself, just in time.

“I know I told you to leave me alone,” she said after the beep, talking quickly before she lost her nerve, “but-”

She couldn’t say it.

I need you-it wasn’t her, no matter how true it might be.

“Just come find me when you get this. Please.”

She told him where she’d be, and hung up. Her parents, who’d thankfully given up on the nightly family bonding sessions, were downstairs watching TV and would be only too delighted to let her go out and meet a friend for “coffee,” even if it was a school night. Harper promised them she’d be home early, then hurried out to the driveway, forcing herself not to look up at Adam’s dark and empty bedroom window.

There were no lights on the road, and she had some trouble finding the right spot, but the thin white cross glowed in the moonlight. Harper hadn’t been back since the accident, and in her imagination she’d pictured a burned strip of land strewn with torn metal and ash. But, aside from the small memorial, the spot looked no different from any other stretch along the road.

She sat down on the ground, tugging her sweater around herself, and waited. There was no reason to expect that he’d come. Even if he got her message, the odds were low that he’d bother to show up. Especially after the way she’d treated him these last few weeks.

But she was holding too much inside. If he didn’t show, maybe she could just scream her pain into the night; maybe that would make everything somehow better. She stared at the thin, white wooden boards and wondered why she didn’t cry. Being here should offer some kind of release, she thought in frustration. Instead, it just made her feel disconnected; it didn’t seem like anything that had happened here could have any connection to her.

The road was empty, and when the headlights appeared on the horizon and drew closer, splashing her with light, she knew he’d come for her. The car pulled off the road and stopped. A door slammed, and footsteps approached.

“Okay, Grace. I’m here. Now what?”

Harper stood up to face Kane. The smirk dropped off his face. “What the hell is wrong?” he asked. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously, Grace, what is it?”

“It’s… everything.” Harper rubbed her hand against the back of her neck, trying to ease the tight knots of muscle. “I just wanted to… I need… I-” She wanted to tell him everything: how she couldn’t even remember what it felt like not to be miserable; how every night she went to sleep dreading the next morning; how she wanted to escape from inside her head and just become someone else, with a normal, happy, guilt-free life. But the words froze somewhere in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning away from him. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” She shook her head. “Sorry I dragged you out here. You should just go.”

“I don’t think so.” Kane grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “Talk to me, Grace. What do you need?”

“What the hell do you care?” she sneered, pulling her arm away.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” Kane said, arching an eyebrow, “if this is the thanks I get…”

“Whatever.” Harper walked away from him, wishing she could just keep walking, into the darkness, and disappear.

“Hey!” Kane followed. “Harper!” he grabbed her again.

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not leaving you here alone!” he shouted.

Harper forced a laugh. “As if you care about anyone but yourself.”

“Insult me all you want, but I’m not leaving.”

She smacked his arm, then his chest. “I am.”

But Kane threw his arms around her and pressed her fiercely against him.

“Let go of me!” she cried, banging her fists into his back. He ignored her and just held her tighter. “Kane, please! Please. Just let me go.”

“And then what? You get to finally be alone? You think I don’t know I’m your last stop?” He stopped shouting. “I’m not like the rest of them-you can’t push me away. Come on, Grace, you know I always stick around until I get what I want.”

She burst into laughter, letting herself sag against him, and in that moment of release, everything she’d been holding down so tightly came flooding to the surface, her laughter quickly turning into gasping, wracking sobs.

And Kane held her as she cried.

“This is natural” she hears the doctor say to her mother as she lies still in the bed, unwilling to move, or speak, or do anything but stare at the ceiling and wait for the nightmare to end. “She’s in shock. Give her a chance to absorb things. It’s all a part of grieving. “

It doesn’t feel like grieving. It feels like falling.

“I killed her!” Harper screamed, shaking. “I did it. She’s dead. I did it.” Tears gushed down her face and she gasped for breath, wishing she could just pass out so the pain would end.

“It was an accident.” Kane insisted. “It wasn’t your fault.”

But she wasn’t listening. She was remembering.

They won’t tell her what happened to Kaia. They won’t tell her anything. Until, one day, when she is “strong enough,” they do.

“Kaia didn’t… didn’t make it, hon. I’m so sorry.”

Harper doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t feel anything- just… empty. It doesn’t seem real. Things like this don’t happen to people like her. She doesn’t cry.

“It should have been me,” she moaned.

“No.”

“Yes. “

“Harper, no.”

The memories flowed faster, beating her back in time through the misery, through the pain.

Everything hurts.

“Where am I?” she asks. Her voice sounds like two pieces of metal scraping together.

“There was an accident,” her mother says, hovering over her. “You and Kaia… Do you remember what happened?”

She doesn’t remember anything. She feels like the past doesn’t exist, that there is only the present-pain and confusion.

It isn’t the first thing she asks. But, eventually, it occurs to her: “How’s Kaia?”

“It should have been me,” she said, letting herself fall limp in his arms. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she would have fallen.

“Stop.”

“It should’ve,” she insisted.

“It shouldn’t have been anyone,” Kane said softly, smoothing her hair down.

“I wish I could just go back.” She closed her eyes and lay her head against his shoulder. It was wet with her tears.

“It’s going to be okay, Grace.”

The tires screech as she spins the wheel, but the car won’t move fast enough. The van is bearing down, and next to her, Kaia screams and screams as the car shakes with a thunderous impact and rolls off the road. The world spins, Kaia screams, and everything goes dark.