Summertime Sadness

FLASHFORWARD

I rush into the bathroom and climb over the stained tub. The small window, big enough for me but probably not for Blue, takes force to push open. I pop my head out the window. The ground's not that far down. But for me, someone who is terrified of heights, not that far is far enough. I don't fancy the idea of jumping. Especially head first.

I turn and stand on my hands, pushing my legs backward through the window. I slowly lower myself against the rough exterior, until all that's left inside the room are my head and my arms glued tightly to the window sill. One more look down and I gauge it's about an eight-foot drop. There's no rational reason this should scare me as much as it does.

I hear the door break open, and Blue screams, "Put your gun down!"

I try to pull myself back into the window. God knows why. It's not like I could actually do anything to help Blue. Then there's gunfire and my vision goes black. I lose my grip and drop to the ground, landing squarely on my feet.

"Blue!" My feet pound against the grass as I circle the back of the motel, racing toward the front. My bare feet press against the cool grating of the metal steps. Once I reach the top of the stairs, I trace my palm against the railing as I carefully pace toward our motel room. I'm half terrified that I'll find Blue dead, equally scared that Rake will be lying on the floor. The two scenarios mean two different things, but both mean that Blue's life has come to an end—either figuratively or literally.

I pass room 24. With every foot closer to our room, the worry in my gut escalates. I'm sure everyone in this motel, out here in the middle of nowhere, heard the gunshot. The police will be here whenever they can manage. My guess is that the nearest police station is at least twenty minutes away. I'm worried about what they'll find almost more than what I will.

Room 23. If there's an argument, a fight, or fists being thrown, I think I'd be able to hear it. But all I hear is silence. It's time to start thinking about best-case scenarios. Otherwise, I might just fold over the railing and puke.

Room 22. The only thing I hear is the buzzing white noise of a tenant tuned into a porn station with a bad signal. That's what you get when you don't pay extra for cable, though I'm pretty sure that's not an advertised amenity.

The edge of room 21. I hesitate, my feet pushed tight against the floor. I search for the deepest of breaths from the furthest reaches of my lungs. My head begins to spin as I lurch forward to the opening of the door.

"Blue!" He's lying face down on the floor with his arms sprawled out above his head. I shift to run toward him, but a rough hand wraps around my mouth.