Page 17 of Swallow Your Sorries

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” she says, cramming two rolls of toilet paper and a bottle of cheap shampoo into a new bag.

“So…you got Jarett a room and a phone, but not us?”

“There wasn’t enough time. Things escalated so quickly.”

“But you got Jarett all sorted out! What are we going to do? What about school?”

“How the hell should I know, Eloisa?” she snaps.

You knew what to do for Jarett. But not us. Not me. Your kid.

“We’ll figure it out as we go. We don’t have time to fool around while these people surround the house and take us out.”

Take us out?!

Forget about Jarett.Us.I’d involvedus.

What had I done?

“But why do we have to leave? Jarett cheated. It’s him who they want. W-we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Liar!

You spread the tape.

Not Gant Auclair.

You.

“You think a man like Bart Auclair cares? He can’t undo the affair, but he can make sure it never happens again, at least with the same man. And if he can’t find that man, who do you think he’ll come after next?”

I swallow.

“Get your bags. They’re already packed in your room.”

“But—”

She gazes over her shoulder, and for once I can find some strength in her when she hisses. “Get in the fucking car, Eloisa. We’ll sort the rest later.”

And I do, scrambling into the passenger seat of Mum’s old wagon ten minutes later, with so many trash bags on my lap I can’t see out the window as Mum books it to the highway.

I guess I got my wish. I’m never returning tothatside of Èze.

Because I’m never returning to Èze at all.

Gant

Two years later. Summer time.

Suffocating despite a surplus of air all around you is a special kind of torture.

You know it’s there. You can even feel it against your pores if it’s blowing hard enough, but you can’t swallow it. You can’t get enough of it.

Something in my throat and nose blocks my airway. It’s wet, thick,and warm.

It’s not blood.

It’s not blood.

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