Chapter 13

I’M SUDDENLY WIDE AWAKE. It’s only seven in the morning. Zahira is still sleeping away.

Outside, the rain is heavy. It sounds like tiny stones pelting on the crappy motel roof. I curl up and try to go back to sleep. I try to think about the road, the cars whooshing by, the radio music. I try to think about Suddence.

Yesterday, trudging on the side of the highway, low-burning pain radiating from my side, the rain and cold soaking me all the way down to my bones, Suddence seemed impossible to reach. But now I have a way to get there, and it almost doesn’t seem real. I could be there by tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the day after.

Soon.

Soon, and the idea should have been comforting.

But the rain is too loud, and my heartbeat is too fast, and I feel sick and my stomach hurts.

I find my way to the bathroom in the bluish seven A.M. dark. I don’t even bother turning on the lights. I just find the toilet and…well. It sucks. But at least my stomach doesn’t hurt anymore.

I scrub my hands with soap and wash my face with the cold, cold water. I flip on the lights. In the mirror, I look thinner. And paler. And my hair is too long. Marisa didn’t get the chance to cut it. The streaks are still there, a dull orangey-gold, and I untangle them from my brown hair to see them better.

Last week, I stood in front of a motel mirror just like this, excitedly pointing to where I wanted the streaks to be, and Marisa pretended she wasn’t happy about it, but I knew she was only teasing me because I caught her smiling in the reflection.

Last week.

How was it only last week? How was I so different? How was I so happy?

Before I can change my mind, I find my army knife and saw the streaks off.

I don’t feel better. I didn’t realize I was expecting to until now, gripping the dismembered hair, my nails digging into my palm. Something curdles in my chest, and I just stand there, trying to remember my breathing exercises, until I realize it’s anger. Deep, deep, deep anger. And disgust. And horror. Because I wanted to feel better, and my first thought was to cut Marisa away. To try to forget her. How could I ever think that? How could I be so—

So—

My arms are burning up to my collarbones, and my ears are buzzing and ringing, and I know something bad will happen if I don’t get a grip of myself. Breathe, Dany. Inhale—

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Exhale—

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Inhale…

Exhale…

When I don’t feel so hot and shaky and the sparks don’t feel one wrong breath away from splitting free, I cut the rest of my hair off.