Page 3 of Does It Hurt?

He barks out a short laugh. “I fucking hope so.”

I nod, reaching out my hand for him to give it back to me. He looks at me like I’m strange, a beat passing before he does as I ask.

Another inhale, and it tastes a little better with the reminder that I’m ingesting death into my lungs.

Yeah, that tastesmuchbetter.

Loud waves crash up the shore, rolling up and reaching toward my chipped baby blue painted toes with outstretched claws, before sinking back down and dragging sand with them.

The ocean is beautiful. But it’s also unforgivable. Within seconds, it can turn against you. Drag you down so violently, you don’t know which way is up, and feed you into its cavernous mouth until you drown or end up between the teeth of something much scarier.

I inhale again deeply, closing my eyes as I feel the smoke fill my lungs and stick inside of them.

Cigarettes are also unforgivable, with the way they eat at you from the inside out. Kill you slowly, and then all at once.

I decide I like the ocean, and I like cigarettes.

Because I… I am also unforgivable.

“That will be $68.10,” the cashier says pleasantly, a smile on his face.

“For a pregnancy test and a pack of cigarettes?” I ask incredulously.

The guy chuckles. “’Fraid so.”

“That’s literally robbery,” I mutter, but I’m not sure if he heard me because he’s still smiling.

I’d love to siphon some of that happiness for myself, but after three weeks in Port Valen, Australia, I don’t feel any safer than I did in America.

After landing, I checked the news online, and authorities were informed that I was possibly sighted at the airport and presumed to have escaped on a plane. The lady at the ticket counter may or may not be able to identify me and confirm my flight to Australia, regardless of using a different name. At the very least, she could say I was acting suspicious and give them a reason to look.

I’m not safe in this country—they’d turn me in to U.S. authorities if caught—but it’s too risky to fly to a country that’d grant me mercy. So, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m staying here for a while yet, and that it’s time to take on the life of someone else again.

There are worse places to be, I suppose.

Port Valen is a beautiful seaside town on the east coast, surrounded by a bright aqua blue ocean and crowded with tourists looking to shark dive or explore the coral reefs. Outside of the beach, it’s rich with massive waterfalls and diving holes surrounded by wildlife and miles of bright forests, attracting hikers from around the world.

It’s also expensive as hell here.

I dig through my ratty coin purse, strings frayed at the edges and getting caught in the zipper. I count out the bills and coins, berating myself for winding up in this situation. Precious money down the drain because I can hardly stand to be alone, plus the extra cost since now I feel the need to get a buzz just to take the edge off.

Problem is, that edge is sharp and jagged, and there’s not a drug in this world that will prevent it from cutting me.

“Here ya go,” I tell him, forcing a smile on my numb face. Feels like when Mom used to take me to the dentist, and I walked out with lidocaine injected in my mouth and no control over my facial muscles. I always used to giggle at the odd feeling, but I don't feel much like laughing now.

He hands me the change and my purchases, another smile on his face. Now it’s almost annoying how happy he is.

“Have a good day,” he chirps.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

I snatch the sack and rush toward the exit of the grocery store, my bright orange flip-flops clacking against the dirty white tile.

This stupid fucking pregnancy test really cut into the little allowance I give myself. Still, I’d rather know if a little alien is invading my body than live in fear, obsessively checking my stomach on any reflective surface I come by just to see if it grew an inch.

I live with enough fear, I don’t need any more.

They can’t find you, Sawyer. You’re safe.

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