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I had to toss the tarp, the needle nose pliers, the clothes, the rope, syringe. I’d keep the tranq bottle since that led back to me. I had to toss the plates, the clothes I had been wearing, everything.
So wasteful.
But necessary.
It would have made my life easier had I taken Quin up on his offer to lend out Finn.
But within a day, it was all over.
All just another memory.
Just another black mark on my soul.
But it didn’t give me nightmares.
Some things were just, even if they were ugly.
—
It was two days later when my phone beeped on the counter.
I wasn’t surprised to see it was Miller.
I was surprised, however, to find it wasn’t her usual tirade against my character.
You?
The text had a screenshot of a news article.
– Will you be done being mad at me if it was?
No. You’re still a fuck, but at least a little good came out of this.
– Have you been keeping an eye on her?
I was annoyed at myself for asking. I had no right to. I lost the privilege of knowing about her life the day I made her leave.
But I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t bother me. Not knowing. If she was getting the help she needed. If she was on the path to recovery.
Or if the opposite happened.
If she refused to reach out, if she let the memories eat at her, if she was getting darker, if she was putting marks on her skin, turning to pills or bottles, or, and this was unthinkable, thinking thoughts of self-conclusion.
It had only been a few days, I reminded myself as it took Miller ages to answer me. Or maybe it had been longer. It had to be well over a week, maybe closer to two.
She’s back at her place.
– That’s not an answer.
She’s back at her job.
– Still not an answer.
What do you want to hear, Ranger? That she’s a zombie in heels? Because she’s a zombie in heels. She does her job, she shops, she fakes smiles at clients and strangers in the grocery store, but her eyes are hollow. There. Is that what you wanted to hear?
– Yes.
Now you know why you’re a fuck.
That was the end of the conversation. But, let’s face it, not the end of the thoughts.
She wasn’t getting better.
But it hadn’t been that long.
She likely couldn’t even get in to see a shrink in that time. Not a decent one anyway.
A zombie phase was to be expected. Especially since she had been in the woods, hiding away from the world for so long.
She would be okay.
Eventually.
I had to believe that.
Because if there was one thing I was pretty sure might break me in this life, it was the guilt attached to her never getting better.
She hadn’t been a zombie in the woods. With me. Her smiles had been real.
But that didn’t necessarily mean it would stay that way forever. That the nightmares wouldn’t get worse, wouldn’t take a toll, wouldn’t start to ruin her waking mood too.
And by then, she’d be too attached.
To the life, to the woods, maybe to me.
I didn’t want to be the fuck who kicked her out, but I also didn’t want to be the fuck who let her stay even if I knew it wasn’t healthy for her.
I’d done the right thing, damnit.
“I know, bud,” I agreed, dropping down on the couch later that night where Captain was already curled, sticking his nose into the cushions, taking a sniff, trying to get her scent again. “I miss her too,” I admitted.
It felt more real to say it out loud.
It put words to the aching hollowness I felt inside. Like a part of me left with her.
Which was ridiculous, of course, but that was how it felt nonetheless.
Reaching in my pocket, I drew out the ring on a chain, turning it in a circle, running my fingers over it, picturing her touching it. She did it without realizing even though the necklace had been missing. When she was unsure of herself, when she was sitting drinking her coffee, staring off into space, maybe thinking about her grandfather. Her hand went to the center of her chest out of habit.
I had no right to be keeping it from her.
But it was all I had left.
Well, the ring and Captain’s sighs and Gadgets sad bleating and Red’s newfound attention to my ankles and the tiny little chamomile seedlings starting to pop up out of the dirt.
I promised myself that the next time I went into town for supplies, I would mail it out.
Then I could move on.
Or, at least, that was the story I was telling myself.
Sighing, I got back up, walking aimlessly around the cabin, looking for something to do, some way to occupy my time.
It wasn’t bad during the daylight hours – when I could throw myself into physical work, could beat myself ruthlessly until my body couldn’t take any more strain.
