Font Size:

Alone in the wilderness again.

Without another soul.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. The Yukon suddenly feels like a hostile place and there’s nothing I can do about it. In the end, I was so happy there.

Were you really?

I hate that little voice inside of me.

Grey licks my fingers as if sensing my tension, trying to calm me down. I scratch his ears, bury my hands in the short summer fur, and avoid Bren’s gaze.

“Don’t do that, Lou,” he suddenly says quietly.

“Don’t do what?”

“Be afraid. Of me and your decision.”

“I’m not!”

“Liar,” he grumbles, but he says it tenderly. “Of course you’re scared. Anything else wouldn’t be normal.” He looks at me with concern. “Did you ever have nightmares…about, you know…the box…or the flashbacks?”

“No, never,” I reply a tad too quickly, but I don’t want him to worry.

“I’ve been thinking about how the past few months must have been for you, Lou.” It feels as if he’s peering deep inside me, as if he’s testing the truth of what I said before. This still feels as strangely haunting as it did a year ago; at the time, it also seemed he had X-ray vision.

“Bren, if I had had nightmares, I probably wouldn’t be here!”

He nods thoughtfully. “Let’s hope it stays that way, then.”

Because otherwise, you will definitely leave me.

I swear that’s what he thought! I want to take away this fear somehow and force a smile on my face. “Maybe we can work through the list of my fears,” I suggest, deliberately cheerful.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Like a to-do list?”

I nod eagerly.

“So, what scares you the most right now?” he asks in a rough voice and winks at me. My heart flutters, a storm of butterflies in my chest. This time it’s not fear, but excitement and strange happiness.

“To get inside.”

As if in a dream, I walk through the RV less than a minute later, running my fingers carefully over the furniture. Nothing has changed. The kitchenette is still yellow, the sink plain steel, and the curtains checkered. Up front is the driver’s cab with the sleeping alcove above it. The toilet is further back on the right, the shower on the left, and the tiny room for sleeping in the very back. I take a deep breath and walk toward the double bed. This is where I initially spent most of my time. This is where I was afraid and wept for my brothers. The duvet is pristine white and exudes the smell of organic soap. I stop at the foot of the bed and recognize the crescent-shaped mark on the floor, the first thing I saw after Bren pulled me out of the box. My chest tightens and I tug nervously at the cover. My fingers are shaking. It’s crazy. Why is this sight suddenly so hard to bear?

“Did you throw the box away?” My gaze wanders to the walls and I spot the metal plates with the eyelets that held my chains and shackles a year ago.

Why didn’t he unscrew them?

“I tried to dismantle it, but I almost ripped out the walls,” he explains from behind, probably guessing what I was thinking by the direction of my gaze. “You're welcome to look under the table up front, that’s where I tried first. There’s a fist-sized hole now, almost reaching the outer panel… Lou, go take a look if you don’t believe me.” He says the line firmly but not harshly.

Of course, he knows how I’m doing. What am I really afraid of? That he immediately pulls out the shackles, chains me up, and screams, “You fell for it”?

I turn to him. His eyes are full of warmth even if his smile is still as rare and unnatural as it was a year ago. But I know all this. I fell in love with him despite his seriousness or perhaps because of it.

No, it’s not because of him that I feel such anxiety, it’s the atmosphere in here that makes it hard to breathe. “Bren, I…”

“Bad memories, huh?” He takes my hand and his warm fingers show me how cold they are. Damp really.

I nod.