Page 37 of Molt

“August.”

He stands.

I hear it and panic hits me.

Sudden and violent.

“Wait.”

He stops.

I don’t understand why I said it. I don’t want him here. I don’t trust him. I should be calling the police. Instead, the thought of him walking away makes something inside me hurt.

“Don’t go.” The words are barely audible.

Silence.

Then August sits back down.

My eyes burn. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why did you stay?” I ask.

“Because you asked.”

“No. All these years.”

He doesn’t answer.

“You said you hide from me. You move. Change names. Why not disappear completely?”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“You always find me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why keep trying?”

His answer comes without hesitation. “Because I don’t want to die.”

I flinch.

There it is. The ugly truth. Whatever this is, I kill him. Maybe not intentionally. Maybe not consciously. But I do.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You never do.”

That hurts. “Do I remember eventually?”