I stared up at the house.
I imagined Kelly was with me, sitting in the passenger seat.
He said, “Hold on to me.”
He said, “As tightly as you can.”
He said, “I know it hurts.”
He said, “I know what it feels like.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know you do.”
I sighed and reached over to my bag. I unzipped a small pocket on the side and pulled out a photograph. I touched the frozen, smiling faces of my brothers before putting it on the dashboard behind the steering wheel.
And then I left.
AS SOON AS I’D GOTTEN FAR ENOUGH AWAY, I stopped.
I gathered the last of my strength.
I found the bonds within me, bright and alive and strong.
Could I do this?
I found out I could.
It was easier than I expected, slicing through them. At least at first. It wasn’t until the end that I opened the door of the truck and vomited onto the ground, my face slick with sweat.
I gagged as the bonds faded.
My mouth was sour. I spit onto the ground.
“Kelly,” I muttered. “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.”
It was enough.
The tether.
It was enough.
I pulled myself back up and looked into the rearview m
irror. The stranger stared back. I flashed my eyes.
Orange.
Still orange.
I closed the door.
Took a breath.
I looked at the road ahead.
There wasn’t another car for as far as I could see.
I pulled back onto the road.