broken down into a few minutes of begging my pack to understand the terrible choice I was about to make.
I stopped the recording.
I thought about deleting it.
Just… deleting it and forgetting about all of this.
It would be so easy.
I’d delete it, and then I’d stand up. I’d leave the office. I’d sit on the steps on the porch until someone came home, and I’d tell them what I’d done and what I was about to do. Maybe it’d be Mom. She’d be smiling at the sight of me, but that smile would fade when she saw the look on my face. She’d rush forward, and I would tell her everything. That I thought I was losing my mind, that I didn’t know what Gavin was, not until it was too late. That I should have fought harder for him, that I should have told him that he couldn’t leave with Robert Livingstone, he couldn’t leave with his father, he couldn’t leave me. Not when I understood. Not when I knew now what I should have known a long time ago.
Or maybe it’d be Kelly. Maybe he’d know something was wrong.
Dust would be kicking up from the tires of his cruiser, the light bar across the top flashing, the siren wailing. He’d throw open the door, the look on his face a mixture of worry and anger.
“What are you doing?” he’d demand.
“I don’t know,” I’d reply. “I’m lost, Kelly. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know what’s going on, please, please, please save me. Please tie me down so I can never leave you. Please don’t let me do this. Please don’t let me leave. Scream at me. Hit me. Destroy me. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
I saved the video instead.
I stood up.
It was now or never.
Before I left the office, I looked back once.
For a moment I thought I saw my father standing behind his desk, hand stretched toward me.
I blinked.
There was nothing there.
A trick of the light.
I closed the door for the last time.
AND YET….
I hesitated on the porch, duffel bag at my feet.
I told myself it was because I was taking it in. This place. Our territory. A last few breaths of home for whatever lay ahead.
But I was a liar.
I looked down the dirt road, snow falling in flurries and clinging to the trees. No one came.
And still I waited.
One minute turned into two, turned into three, into seven.
When ten minutes had passed, I knew it was now or never. I had stalled long enough.
I picked up my bag.
Stepped off the porch.
And went to my truck.
I climbed inside and closed the door behind me.
I stared up at the house.
I imagined Kelly was with me, sitting in the passenger seat.
He said, “Hold on to me.”
He said, “As tightly as you can.”
He said, “I know it hurts.”
He said, “I know what it feels like.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know you do.”
I sighed and reached over to my bag. I unzipped a small pocket on the side and pulled out a photograph. I touched the frozen, smiling faces of my brothers before putting it on the dashboard behind the steering wheel.
And then I left.
AS SOON AS I’D GOTTEN FAR ENOUGH AWAY, I stopped.
I gathered the last of my strength.
I found the bonds within me, bright and alive and strong.
Could I do this?
I found out I could.
It was easier than I expected, slicing through them. At least at first. It wasn’t until the end that I opened the door of the truck and vomited onto the ground, my face slick with sweat.
I gagged as the bonds faded.
My mouth was sour. I spit onto the ground.
“Kelly,” I muttered. “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.”
It was enough.
The tether.
It was enough.
I pulled myself back up and looked into the rearview mirror. The stranger stared back. I flashed my eyes.
Orange.
Still orange.
I closed the door.
Took a breath.
I looked at the road ahead.
There wasn’t another car for as far as I could see.
I pulled back onto the road.
A few minutes later I passed a sign telling me I was leaving Green Creek, Oregon, and to come back soon!
I would.
That was a promise.
like this/got you
It went like this:
I was born.
I didn’t remember.
I was one.
I didn’t remember.
I was two.
I didn’t remember.
And then I did.
Because my mother was there, and she was sitting in a chair. She was tired but smiling. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her skin looked soft.
She said, “Carter, would you like to meet your brother?”
He had