Page 54 of Kylie

Which I was doing.

Quickly.

I wasn’t a medical professional, but my foot was infected. The pain radiated up my leg at this point. The infection would get into my bloodstream if it hadn’t already, and it would kill me. On top of that, one couldn’t survive without food or water, and since I no longer had a desire for either, it was simply a matter of time.

Focusing on breathing in and out, I cleared my mind and thought of Travis.

“How does it feel to be forty-four?” I asked the image of him in my mind.

He smiled back at me, and it was so beautiful, I would’ve cried if I could produce tears.

“It feels good, Kylie. It’s taken some time, but I’m happy again.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, Travis. I am. I want you to be happy. Even though I can’t be there.”

“We understand. We mourned you for a while, but we’re moving on. You should, too.”

“But I don’t want to. I want to come home to you.”

“You can’t. You’re dead.”

“But I’m not, Travis. I’m alive.”

“We had to say goodbye, Kylie. We had to let you go.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Happy birthday, Travis.”

“Thanks. I need to get back to my family. They’re waitin’ for me.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“No, you won’t. But that’s okay, Kylie. We’re doin’ okay without you.”

My tears dripped slowly down my cheeks in the dark. That wasn’t how our conversations usually went.

Maybe hope had finally left me, too.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Kylie

I’d been there for forty-something days.

I was no longer aware of exactly how long because I had stopped keeping track. I wasn’t capable of doing it anymore. The little plastic cap was now in my pocket, no longer needed because I could hardly move. Thirty-nine was as far as I made it. The sun had come up several times since, but I wasn’t counting.

It didn’t matter anymore.

The only thing I tracked now was the sound of vehicles coming and going. It often interrupted the chipper tweet of the birds in the trees outside the windows.

The only time I saw someone was when one of the people standing guard came into the room to throw protein bars and bottles of water toward me. Every so often, I could muster the strength to get to one or the other.

Once in a while, someone would come in and retrieve the red bucket and replace it with a different one, but the need to do so was dwindling. I had no doubt that I was malnourished and dehydrated at this point. I was tempted to stop drinking the water and just let nature take its course, but I’d never been a quitter, and I hated to start now. Maybe one of those birds was gearing up to peck its way through the bars on the windows and help me escape.