Epilogue
Five days ago
I keep walking.
The night is humid and quiet, and everything is wrong. Anger rushes through like a knife as I let the pitch-black swallow me, till she can't see me. Till I'm gone.
Why can't she understand? Thought she knew that my choices and chances are slim to none. In the end, when it mattered most, she couldn't understand.
I left. She called out my name. I heard it, and ignored it.
I keep on walking.
I did not want to be here tonight. But Zoe always pushes. She pushes till she gets what she wants.
I wanted to stay home; she wanted to dance during the last days of summer. Before reality knocked, unwelcome and scary. Before she left and I stayed. Before I was nothing but a memory.
Would it be so bad to become a memory?
I keep on walking.
A roar blew into the summer night. A fire shot. Screams. Another shot. More screams.
Zoe.
I stopped in my tracks with my heart racing. I turned to face the old red barn, where the party was being thrown. The post lights were blurry; so was the old barn.
Salt fills my lips; I'm crying.
Fires keep being shot. More people scream. I can see the small silhouettes of those who got to run away, and in my heart, I pray to God that one of them is Zoe.
Sirens blast, passing by me. The patrols drive in a straight line to the barn, leaving trails of dust behind their wake. My eyes are glued to the road; tears roll down, getting lost at the collar of my shirt.
Would it be so bad to become a memory?
