Page 22 of Viper's Salvation
"Freedom often comes in small packages," I say. "What do you want to do with yours?"
She looks around the now-empty picnic area, then toward the lake. "Can we go back to the dock? Watch the sunset?"
"Lead the way."
We gather a couple of water bottles and the last of the snacks. Chips and some cookies Emma baked that they left behind, andhead back to the dock. The wood is still warm from the day's sun as we sit side by side, our legs dangling over the edge like before.
"This is the first time I've watched the sunset... I don't even know how long," Amy says, tearing open the bag of chips. "The room they kept me in had one small window, but it faced east. I could see the sunrise, but never the sunset. It was only a few days, but in my head it has been months."
"And you still got up each day," I observe. "That says something about you."
She shrugs, but I can tell my words affect her. "What choice did I have?"
"There's always a choice. Some people would have broken, given up. You didn't."
The sun touches the tree line now, the sky ablaze with color, deep oranges and reds fading to purple at the edges. The lake mirrors the spectacle, turning the water into liquid fire.
"I thought about it," she admits. "Giving up. Especially after Kelly escaped and they started... when things got worse." She absently touches her ribs, a gesture I've noticed she makes when remembering. "But then I'd think. What if she made it? What if she found help? I had to stay alive for that possibility."
"And here you are," I say. "She did find help. You survived. Against fucking incredible odds, you both made it."
Amy nods, her eyes on the sunset. "I still can't quite believe it sometimes. That I'm really free. That I can just... sit here and watch the sunset if I want to."
"Believe it," I tell her. "You earned every second of this freedom."
"I need to figure out what comes next. I can't hide in the clubhouse forever, dependent on all of you."
"You've been free for literally one day," I point out. "Cut yourself some slack."
"I know, but—"
"No buts. Recovery isn't a race, Amy. There's no medal for healing the fastest."
Her lips quirk up. "Is that experience talking?"
"Maybe," I admit. "Took me nearly a year after my father died before I could sleep through the night. Another six months before I stopped jumping at loud noises that sounded like gunshots."
"And now?"
"Now I sleep okay most nights. Still have dreams sometimes. Still get triggered occasionally. But it doesn't control me anymore."
She nods, absorbing this. "I had a nightmare last night. About Mike. In it, he shot me, but I couldn't die. Just kept feeling the pain over and over."
"Those will fade with time. Not disappear completely, but fade."
"Promise?" There's that vulnerability again, a crack in her armor that makes me want to shield her from everything that might cause her more pain.
"I promise," I say firmly. "One day the nightmares will be the exception, not the rule."
The sun slips lower, half-disappeared behind the trees now. The temperature is dropping with it, the air cooling around us.
"We should head back soon," I say reluctantly. "It'll be dark within the hour."
"Just a little longer," she pleads. "Until the sun's completely gone. Please?"
How could I refuse her anything when she looks at me like that? "Of course."
Chapter 9 - Amy
