Page 36 of Corpse Roads

The kitchen is blessedly empty. I tip my mouth under the tap and take several frenzied gulps of water. Dribbles run down my chin as I fill my belly, wiping off my mouth when I’m done.

Water on tap. It’s a crazy thought to me. I often had to lick droplets from the walls of the basement, relying on leaks and the occasional mercy of my tormentors.

These people have everything.

It reminds me of all I’ve lived without.

It’s raining outside—slanted, silvery bullets that pelt the ground in a rhythmic shower. I trail over to the sliding door that leads to luscious greenery as far as the eye can see. The garden is beautiful.

Lucky trots to my side, her breath fogging up the glass. Petting her head, I twist the lock and step out into the cold air. She breaks into a run, bounding across the lawn with a yip.

My feet carry me into the falling rain. With my head tilted upwards, I can catch the droplets on my tongue. They taste sweet, unlike the putrid water that sustained me for so long.

Lucky finds me in the middle of the lawn, a ball locked between her drooling fangs. She drops it right at my feet.

“You’re a real softie, you know that?”

Bending over with gritted teeth, I manage to pick up the ball and toss it across the grass. She chases, her satisfied barking disturbing a cluster of birds. I watch them take flight with awe.

Instead of returning inside, I ease myself down onto the wet grass to watch the world wake up. My bandages are already soaked through, but I tuck my plastered arm inside my hoodie for protection.

The rain is coming down thick and fast, hammering into me like the beat of fists on flesh. It feels exactly as I imagined. My skin is being sloughed off, stripped down layer by layer. I’m being cleansed.

There’s this weird smell in the air that comes with a fresh rainfall. I can’t get enough of the heady scent. If I could, I’d bottle it and keep it close so it can’t be stolen from me again.

That’s where Enzo finds me, what feels like hours later, drenched and shivering violently, but more content than I’ve ever felt. Even Lucky has abandoned me and gone back inside to get warm.

“Harlow? What on earth are you doing?”

His voice startles me from the meditative state I’ve slipped into. Looking up, I find his angry amber eyes staring down at me.

“Hey,” I reply with a smile.

Enzo scans my sopping wet clothes and the tremor of my cold body. He’s wearing a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and a tight tank top that exposes the chiselled expanse of his chest, covered in a smattering of dark hair.

“Hey,” he echoes. “You’re soaking wet.”

“So?”

“I don’t want you to get sick again. Come inside and warm up before I lose my mind.”

“I’m fine out here. It’s nice.”

“Harlow, it’s raining.”

Sighing, I wiggle my toes in the wet grass. “I never saw the sky. Raining or not, it’s beautiful. The wind makes me feel less alone.”

“Why?” Enzo asks with interest.

“It’s like the world is screaming along with me.”

Sealing his lips, he crouches down and slides his hands underneath my arms. I’m too cold to protest as I’m cradled against his chest, our bodies pressed tightly together. He turns to head back inside.

“Are you hungry?”

I nuzzle his tank top, loving the blanket of warmth his skin provides. “No. I’ve been drinking the shakes you left for me.”

“How do you know it was me?”

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