Page 54 of Don’t Let Me Go

Riley is shaking in my arms. He’s gasping and fighting back tears, clinging to me like his life depends on it. I hold him

tight, fighting back my own tears, as we huddle on the floor of Jocasta’s kitchenette.

I don’t know what time it is or how long we’ve been out. The sun is setting, casting its dying orange light and long purple

shadows across the empty hotel room. There’s no sign of Jocasta or her things. Not even an overturned teacup.

“They were killing us,” Riley whimpers, his voice choked with fear. He clutches me even tighter. Like he’s afraid that if

he lets me go, even for a second, I’ll slip away forever. Or he will.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, my own voice little more than a whisper. I’m still in too much shock to say or do anything more,

so I find myself repeating that phrase as much for Riley’s sake as my own. “We’re okay. It was just a dream. We’re okay.”

My words are hollow, though. I don’t believe them.

Riley and I both know we are far from okay. Just like we know that that excruciating dream wasn’t a dream. It was our past.

And unless we listen to Jocasta, it’s our future.