Page 96 of Dark Endures

The pain doesn’t matter.

One foot in front of the other.

Nothing matters but getting to that door.

One foot in front of the other.

There you made it. I tug it and it doesn’t open.

Why? I yank it as hard as my broken body will allow, almost toppling over backward.

The world goes fuzzy.

You can’t pass out.

You need to get to safety.

Focus. This can’t be that—

The latch. Stupid.

He’s wrong. They’re wrong. You aren’t stupid.

I flip it, and the door opens up.

You’re out.

You’re safe.

But I don’t feel safe.

Will I ever feel safe again?

***

There’s no way I can walk to the subway. It’s taken me seemingly an hour just to get out the door of the apartment building. It must be really early because I haven’t passed a single person coming in or out. I need a cab.

Several drive by uncaring that I’m on the edge of the curb. My hand. I need to raise my arm. Can I do it?

Can doesn’t matter, I need to. Ignore the pain and lift.

Just as my arm is about to give out, a cab comes to a slow stop in front of me. I semi-sit and semi-tumble into the seat, then right myself.

“Where to?”

I have no idea. “Just drive.”

“You need to close the door.”

Oh. “Sorry.” I pull shut.

The cab starts moving.

“You want me to take you to the hospital?”

Do I look that bad? You know what, I don’t want the answer to that question. “No. No hospital.”

“Then where do you want to go?”

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