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I wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for her.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
When she crashed on my island, I thought it would ruin me and my home.
But the opposite is true.
She brought me something no one ever has. Acceptance. Unconditional love.
It’s all I needed to feel alive after living in such solitude. Even if only for a while.
I’m still grateful.
“For what?” She frowns.
I caress her cheeks and whisper, “For saving me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Accompanying Song: “Hungry Faces” by Mogwai
Juliet
The doctors said Lock would finally be released tomorrow, so I can finally take him home. They’ve even arranged for him to get a temporary ID so he can travel with me.
We spend our last day in the hospital playing games that I got from one of the nurses—an old board game called Game of the Goose as well as a card game. At first, he didn’t understand why he was supposed to find it fun, but after a while, he got the hang of it and started trumping me with rolls of the die and with his cards, which made him grin like crazy.
When we’re done, I turn on the television and show him all the different channels, except the one that’s talking about us, showing my picture as ‘the girl that survived.’ I quickly switch to stop Lock from reading too much into it. I don’t want to bother him with that. He already has enough on his plate as it is.
His eyes light up every time I change the channel, and the moment he saw a tiger on some animal documentary, he immediately jumped out of bed to grab a weapon … in this case, a coat hanger.
I laugh out loud as he approaches with that thing held out in front of him as if he can chase the animal away. “No, silly, it’s not real. Stop.”
“If it’s not real, then what is it?”
“An image. You know, like a drawing,” I say. There’s a puzzled look on his face, so I go to the cabinet and grab a piece of paper and a pen. I draw a tiger, or at least what looks like one, and hold it up. “Like this.”
“Doesn’t even look the same,” he replies.
“That’s because the television shows images that are real.”
“Is it real or not? I don’t understand you,” he says, and I shake my head.
How do you even begin to explain how the world works to a man who hasn’t lived in it? He’s like an alien on his own planet. Only now do I begin to see how much of a recluse he is. Kept in a cage for most of his life … it only shows how badly his father treated him.
“It’s just not here, right now, okay?” I add, and I quickly grab the remote control. “Let’s watch something else.”
My head’s already hurting at the thought of all the things I’m going to have to teach him once he comes home with me. It’ll be a daunting task, and I don’t think I can combine it with work. If I leave him alone, he might burn down the entire house. Nope, not happening. Guess I’ll have to stay with him until I’ve taught him everything there is to know.
However, when I switch the channel, Lock places the coat hanger on the floor and stares at the television as if he saw a ghost. There’s a drawing of a face being shown, probably a man wanted by the police.
Only … this man bears a striking resemblance to Lock.
And seconds later, his name appears in the corner.
My lungs refuse to suck in oxygen as I stare in disbelief.
Is that really … Lock?
Someone’s out there looking for him?
Lock approaches the screen and gently touches it with his fingers, running them along the drawn lines … And with his other hand, he touches his own face, precisely on the same spots. He marches toward a mirror and looks at himself, then back at the television, repeating this over and over again until the reporter starts to talk.
“If you have any information on the whereabouts of this man, please call …” There’s a number at the bottom of the screen.
A shiver runs up and down my spine. I press the pause button.
“Me …” Lock mumbles, and he turns around to face me, his lips parted as though he’s waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I reply. I don’t know what to do, don’t know what to think about this.
Is this real?
Is someone out there really looking for him?
And if so … who?
And why?
Suddenly, I’m cold to the bone.
What if it’s those people … the family of the girl who Lock killed?
I can’t let them take him away.
“Who’d be looking for you? Do you know?” I ask, grabbing him by the shoulders.
“No,” he says. “No one.”
“What about the girl?” I whisper, making sure no one else can hear us.
