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I don’t know why I want to hear them.
I just do.
It’s a need at this point, as real to me as my need for heroin.
Slowly, methodically, throughout the day, I work my way through the boxes.
One
By
One
By
One.
I am focused on that.
No matter how the room spins, or the blackness threatens to overtake me, I continue.
I lost consciousness
Once
Twice
Three times.
When I wake, it is night.
Early evening, I think. The light is dying on the lake, in oranges and golds and ambers. I stare at it, watching it flit to and fro, and I put my hand on the window.
I loved this place once. I loved the views of the lake and the seclusion.
I can feel Mila here, even still. One of her pictures hangs on the wall, a breathtaking painting of the sun. It is an explosion of abstract vision, and I wish I was in the canvas, and away from here.
But I’m not.
And I only have a short way left to go.
I reach for the last box.
If I finish this, they’ll bring me the very last one.
It will be over.
I will have won.
Even if I die, I won.
28
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mila
It’s been twelve hours since Roger left.
