Page 21 of Synodic

What was happening to me? How had all of this escaped my knowledge for so long? How had I never cared?

I was merely a ghost living in a shell, my life on autopilot, never really seeing or hearing anything at all.

Something was awakening within me, a dormant phoenix itching to rise and spread her wings of pale white fire from the confines of her cage. A cage I never even knew existed until recently. Something was calling to me, waiting beyond the bars of the prison I was finally expelling. I just didn’t know what.

My phone went off again several times in a row, and I spared it a glance.

Natalie told me everything.

I can’t believe you had an allergic reaction.

I should have never left you.

Forgive me.

Please, let me make it up to you.

My eyes shot to Natalie. “You informed him of all this just now?”

“I had to tell him, he’s worried sick. And if you weren’t going to tell him, I was,” she said defiantly, placing her phone down on the awful purple couch.

The reins on my composure were slipping. Everyone was acting as if this was something that happened tothem. “I planned on it. I just needed some time. Last night wasn’t easy for me either in case you missed it.”

“What’s gotten into you lately? Just promise me you’ll never drink again,” she begged, her eyes pleading. “I hated seeing you like that. You can’t know how sorry I am.”

“I’m sorry too, for how the night turned out,” I said, reeling back my temper. “You know I appreciate all your help in getting me home. Be sure to thank Damon for me as well.”

“He’s so sweet and smart. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” Her worry seemed to lighten as she regaled me with stories of their conversations and flirtatious touches before they’d had to race downstairs to help me.

A silence lulled between us, and I contemplated what I should say to Harlan as I finished my drink. He knew he was in the wrong, and I wasn’t above wanting to see him grovel.

I set the cup between my legs and texted him back.

I am available for acts of the forgiving type.

9

Days passed without a single word or appearance from Rowen. I should have been relieved and overcome with joy, but I secretly worried he was gone forever or that something horrible had happened to him.

It came as quite a shock at how invested I was in his well-being. He wasn’t even real, yet I worried about his whereabouts and safety. More so than my own at this point because I was entirely lost.

I must’ve taken a walk, though I couldn’t remember consciously deciding to do so. Somewhere along the way, I’d taken a wrong turn because I found myself walking through a strange red forest, which was most assuredly nowhere near where I lived.

I searched for a path or trailhead to lead me back home, but none were in sight. How had I gotten so far off track out in the middle of nowhere?

I itched at my throat uncomfortably. I didn’t like it here.

I passed under the red-clouded treetops that, against the white sky, looked like pools of blood splattered on linoleum flooring. The trunks themselves seemed to be made of bone dust, covered in burls that jutted out like thorns, thirsting for the slightest prick of my skin. The woods pulsed like the inside of a body, a body somehow surviving without flesh, sinew, and muscle holding it all together.

But still, it breathed.

The leaves exhaled stale air that left my skin scratchy, dry, and cracked open like the barren salt flats.

Somehow it was even eerier here than in the dead, glass-like forest. Instead of a frozen death, everything here felt half alive, as though nothing truly lived so it could never fully die.

A dryness was beginning to coat my throat as if I’d drunk a mug of talcum powder. I tried to swallow to ease the irritation, but I was depleted of all moisture.

I clawed at my throat. The thirst was growing more and more unbearable by the second.

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