Page 118 of Eternal

My chest burns as I hurry toward the road. And that’s when I hear it. A horn in the silence as I freeze on the dotted line.

It slices like butter through the night.

Headlights cut around the corner.

A car.

A memory.

I’m frozen in the center as it drives straight toward me.

32

Sunflowers

Teal

Three Years Earlier

Headlights.

I stare into them like a sunflower watches the sun move across the sky. Absorbing every ray and drinking them down until night makes the petals curl and wither in on themselves.

I stare into the headlights, and I’m wide awake.

Eyes open.

Heart ripped at the seam.

My skin prickles, and blood thunders through my veins. It floods my body with every beat until I’m floating.

Floating away.

Is this what it’s like to die?

I stare into the end of the tunnel, expecting to see my life flash before my eyes. I expect to feel all the good things slipping.

But all I see are fingers. Hands gripping so tight I can’t escape them. They leave their prints on my skin while I sit in this fog, and they think I won’t remember.

Sometimes I don’t remember.

Sometimes I pretend I’m asleep so I don’t feel them manipulating me.

How many years has it been that I still can’t scrub myself clean?

A new therapist. Another dose. The doctors always say that one more hit and I’ll be okay. One more day to survive, and then everything will be okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

Everything is not okay.

No matter how deep I bury the memories of him, he always creeps back in and threatens whatever stability I’ve found. He turns from a shadow in the corner of the room to a figure looming over me. And I’m too weak to stop him.

I can’t stop this no matter how many years pass.

The headlights are so bright I can almost feel them. A bristling against my skin. Wind rushes as the air parts in two, like the Red Sea. Slicing through the darkness the same way tiny pebbles cut into the soles of my feet.

Where are my shoes?