thirty three

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Peter handles most of the police questioning, which I'm grateful for

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Peter handles most of the police questioning, which I'm grateful for. I need a minute to calm down, to catch my breath and organize my thoughts. 

After a long, reuniting hug with Charlie, I sit with him and Kat next to the Firebird as he rambles. He's going on about how he called the cops and asking us a hundred questions about what happened inside.

As far as I can tell from his all over the place storytelling, Charlie recognized the truck and explained to Peter how we were followed. Peter told him to call the police while he came inside to check on me and Kat. The knowledge that he knew what he might've been walking into and came in anyways overrides me with guilt again. It's my fault we all almost got killed-- what was I thinking, bringing Charlie to meet a guy I knew nothing about? Hell, what was I thinking bringing myself

Still, even though I'm grateful for how brave Peter was to try and mediate the situation like he did, there's still the whole keeping-Isaac-a-secret thing that keeps switching my admiration back to disappointment. He knew what it felt like to be lied to-- why would he put me through that, too?

As my mind swirls, I'm thankful Kat is able to hold a conversation and keep Charlie occupied. Her voice is still froggy and her hands are still shaking just as bad as mine, but she's listening to his side of the story and answering his questions as gently as she can. He seems equal parts amazed and scared, which is pretty much all I can say for myself, too.

I watch Peter raise a hand to the last officer as she gets in her car. The other units took off before I even made it outside, chasing after the purple truck, but Officer Vasquez stuck around to get our statements, which didn't take too long-- it's astounding how what felt like the longest ten minutes of my life can be boiled down to such a short story.

Peter strolls over to where the three of us are sitting on the dirt, our backs leaning against the side of the Firebird. I'm trying to take everything in: the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, the warmth of the sun on my skin, how it feels just to breathe in the fresh air. 

After my last near-death experience, all I got to see for a while was the inside of a hospital and the view from my window, which was mostly obstructed by another wing of the building. It felt like I was in purgatory for weeks. This time, I get to feel life, life that I'm starting to enjoy, and I'm trying to feel every single second of it as best as I can.

"Well," Peter stops in front of us, "Boris and Lars crashed about a mile away. They've been arrested. Isaac... still no sign of him."

I'm relieved to hear we won't have to worry about the duo anymore. As far as Isaac, I guess it doesn't really matter. When I said goodbye to him, I meant it. Our lives are separate once again, just as they were always meant to be. 

"Oliver, I was hoping we could talk?" Peter motions his head towards his car, letting me know he means without Kat and Charlie. I still need to talk to Kat, really talk to her, and see if I can reverse all the fucked up things I said. But right now, my head is so messed up that I wouldn't even know where to start.

Oliver Ausman Lives AgainWhere stories live. Discover now