Amber

Chapter 42

Hailey

November 22, 2015

Hannah disappears as the door opens and he enters, standing there watching with his uncontrollably twitching face. He looks different than before. Less like himself, maybe. He looks panicked. Like he knows something.

I look to Lauren, trying to communicate a message with my eyes. This is our chance. We're not staying here any longer. It's time to leave. Time to go home.

Time for him to die.

This is what you wanted, though. This was all your design. Your idea. Your way of fixing everything.

No. It's not what I want. God, the voices. First Hannah's voice. Then Lauren's. Now mine ...

They all speak at the same time. Except for him. Why won't he speak?

He tosses an apple onto the floor, and we watch it roll in the dirt and settle between us. Then he moves farther inside the room and lets the chair come to rest, leaving it behind to tie up our ankles. When he bends down over me, I notice he smells differently. Familiar. The outside air.

It's so loose this time. You can get away. He won't expect it.

Yes, that's what I need. Encouragement. It's what Hannah would do for me if she were still here.

It's Lauren's turn first, as usual. She crawls along to the beat of him slapping his thigh. She settles under the knife as he cuts along her arm near the shoulder. Her eyes meet mine in the darkness, and I wait for some sort of signal to attack. There isn't one.

He releases her, and it's my turn. I'm actually excited this time, but I don't let it show on my face. He'll know and he'll stop me. He'll ruin everything.

As I crawl I can feel the rope sliding around my ankles, barely tight enough to stay on. I climb onto his knee and turn to face him, my eyes burning directly into his, searching for color and finding none. Then he sways the knife back and forth between our faces as his mouth twitches open.

"You're sick. Like she was. This is for your own good. We have to cut out the sickness," he says—except it's not his voice. It's mine ... speaking perfectly in tune to the movement of his lips.

He brings the against my cheek and then slowly drags it down to rest against my wrist. I feel his other hand close around my forearm, holding me steady. Then I feel another set of fingers higher on my arm, the grip . I'm aware of the impossible. I'm aware of something happening. Only—it can't be.

Both of his hands are latched onto my arm, but the knife is still poised in a third hand, ready to cut.

I don't understand. How is this happening?

Look down. See for yourself.

No. I don't want to look. I don't want to see it.

Look down, Hailey. You fucking rock star. You disease. Look and see what you've done.

My eyes close hard at first.

Close your eyes tight enough to disappear. But you've already disappeared.

They snap open and slowly descend until they see what's happening. My mouth opens to gasp, but the sound is choked in my throat.

His fingers are curled around my arm, both hands locked onto me. But he's not the one holding the knife to my wrist.

I am.

Lauren is beside me now, her hand on my shoulder. "You're going to fight it away. Remember?"

She's smiling. She's so positive. How did she get to be so positive? Why is she always trying to bring out the best in me? Always encouraging. Always protecting me. Just like Hannah. Lauren—my new force field. I was supposed to protect her. But I failed. My eyes scan the cuts checkered all over her skin, and then I look to my own body and see the same cuts on me, matching hers exactly.

"Fight it away, Lee," Lauren says, sounding like Hannah. Sounding like me.

My eyes return to the monster holding my arms, and I know only one of us can leave this place alive. That's what has to happen for this to end. Either he kills me or I kill him. The can't follow me out of here.

"Decide," . "Decide and cut. Make your choice."

I drift away to thoughts of Hannah.

Hannah with her sunshine face and starlit heart. Hannah who encompassed forever. Hannah holding my hand to cross the street. Hannah chasing after the boy who pushed me off my bike. Hannah letting the rain shatter down on her. Hannah disappearing into the leaves. Hannah sliding into the bathwater ...

I wanted so badly to understand and make sense of it. But more than that, I wanted so badly to see her one last time. To tell her how much she meant to me. To thank her for protecting me. To apologize for not protecting her back.

To forgive her.

To forgive myself.

It's not your fault. You couldn't save her. Even if you could, she wouldn't have let you.

I've finally decided why she was crying. It's not because she hurt herself. It's because she hurt me. Because she knows now that even if she would have found happiness in death, she forever stole the possibility of happiness away from me.

But it doesn't mean I can't find it for others.

Be strong. Be strong for everyone.

She wasn't telling me to be strong for Lauren or to be strong for my family or even to be strong for myself. She was telling me to be strong for them: everyone who has had their happiness stolen. That's where Hannah's journey has taken her. That's what she's left me with.: the path to finding strength.

Be a force field. Be a force field for everyone.

Lauren is watching, and I know what she wants me to do. What she needs me to do. Who she needs me to do it for.

"Be his force field, Lee," she says, hope stinging in her eyes. "Please."

I start cutting. Slowly at first but then harder, violent and shaking with emotion. I cut his arm through skin and bone, surprised by the lack of resistance until it splits open and falls away from me, spilling and settling into halves on the floor. Then I cut his other arm until I'm free of him. I look to Lauren, her sideways smile encouraging me to keep going.

I raise the knife until it's against his neck, and I stare for one last time into his face, seizure-like and silent again. The sound of my scream fills the darkness as I cut across his neck, jumping back as the blood waterfalls down and his body collapses into the chair. I let the knife fall from my hand as I step over the body, and my eyes meet the heavy metal door, thrown aside and leaving an opening away from the cold. Away from the dark. Away from the nightmare.

I start walking out of the room and into darkness that's been painted gray. I find the stairs and take them one at a time, falling every few steps but quickly finding my feet. The top of the stairs is capped in black, and I use all of my weight to push against it, lifting the swing-door and blinking in the cavern of light that I find on the other side. I push off against the wall, half-running and half-falling through the rooms and halls, squeezing my eyes shut even as I find the last remaining door leading outside.

And then everything is a rush of warmth and sound and air, and I force my feet to charge forward as if I can throw my arms wide enough around it all to gather it in to me. To hold daylight in my arms.

My eyes blur and close and when they open again there is nothing but a wall of light, and I'm running toward it, not caring to look back. Not wanting to see what I'm running from. I think Lauren is with me, but I can't see her. I think I hear her and Hannah just behind me, calling after me and telling me to keep going, to keep moving forward. To run all the way into the light they can no longer reach.