Alive If

Chapter 25

I walk until my feet forget where they're going.
Until I can't smell him on my jacket.
Until I forget the look on Hickey's face.

Not to the park, not to school, not the mall or even the nightclub. Just... away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

I don't know how I feel about him anymore. Everything feels strained, like holding onto smoke. 

I need to breathe.

My brain switches to autopilot. My feet carry me through streets I've never seen before. The buildings are unfamiliar, the alleys winding and narrow like a maze. I should be afraid—but I'm not.

I don't know how long I've been walking.

The soles of my shoes are soaked. Water seeps in with each step, squelching like a broken heartbeat. Neon signs flicker to life in the distance—cheap motels, a pawn shop, a liquor store. Everything glows pink and blue and wrong.

I wanted to go home, but I took a turn and then another, and somehow, I ended up here.

The bridge hums beneath my feet with the weight of the city's traffic. Below, water churns like it's hungry. The air is damp and heavy—like it's holding its breath, waiting for something to fall.

I lean on the railing. My fingers grip the rusted metal. The rain slides down my back, past my sleeves, into the spaces where warmth used to live.

I'm not thinking about dying, not really. I just want quiet. Just want to stop hurting. Just want everything—Santhy, Claire, Mom, Richard, all of it—to go still.

A flash of memory hits me: Claire, brushing burrs out of my hair after I fell off my bike. My mom, humming off-key while braiding my hair before school. A sharp ache blooms in my chest.

What am I doing?

I wipe my face with my sleeve. Rain or tears—who can tell anymore?

"I'm not going to jump," I mutter, trying to convince myself more than anyone else. "I just needed... perspective."

I take a breath. The rain doesn't stop, but I do.

...

The downpour hits harder, soaking through my jacket like it's made of paper. I yank my hood up and break into a run, spotting a small shed near the edge of an empty park. There's a wooden bench inside—wet, uncomfortable—but I collapse onto it anyway, breathless.

The rain on the pavement brings that familiar smell: damp asphalt and something like memory. For the first time today, I feel... still.

Then a car pulls up.

Through the mist—Charlie.

He disappears into a neon-lit shop across the street. I squint.

An adult shop?

Seriously?

Curiosity wins. My legs move before I can stop them. I cross the street and stand outside the shop like a lunatic, trying to peer through the glass.

"Fie, stop being so nosy," I mumble to myself. "Charlie's a grown man. He can buy... stuff." I groan and cover my face.

What am I even doing?

But still, the image of Charlie buying something spicy won't compute in my brain. I feel weird. Off-balance. Is he okay? Does Sally know?

I edge closer to the door, my heart racing.

My hand touches the door handle just as a firm grip grabs my wrist.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie asks, eyes wide, voice low.