Not Anymore

You only stop to catch your breath once you are outside the building. You had long ago mastered the art of running silently without sacrificing speed. It doesn't mean you're invincible to human shortcomings. Like limited oxygen.

Regardless, you are safe now.

Safe from the horrors of another normal person. Ghastly!

You huff in annoyance. But you curse yourself on the inside for your initial panic. You had been so wound up looking for Them that when you heard a Normal call out, you did the one thing you had perfected within these three days. Running.

Has it only been three days? you ask yourself, ignoring the passive insult. Running is what kept you alive after all. It's felt like a lifetime. They have completely changed everything…

Thinking about Them, you instinctively reach for the Seer. Then you freeze. Your hand moves from one pocket to another in a quickly growing panic. The pockets in your booty shorts are surprisingly small. And surprisingly empty. No, that's the wrong word. Terrifyingly empty. That's better, right?

You are too busy trying not to be consumed by panic for the second time in ten minutes. You shake your short, thick curls trying to remember where the hell you put it.

Or more accurately, where the hell you lost it.

You stop panicking. It's replaced by embarrassed hatred. Most of it is self-directed, but not all. Such is your ways. Ah, well.

You force yourself to turn back, put one foot in front of the other, and head back inside the building you ran out of not five minutes ago.

***

I run down the stairs, and only slip up once or twice. I finally reach the lobby.

And my heart stops.

She's beautiful.

Another person.

She's wearing dark sunglasses, a bandana on her face, and gloves, but she's the most amazing sight I have ever seen.

"Hello?" I manage to croak out.

She stares at me. Her eyebrows twitch.

"Are- are you real?" I ask. This could all be a fever dream.

She clears her throat.

"Yes," she says, "Have you seen a black triangle with white hair?"

I realize she's the one who dropped it. She wants it back. She will leave if I give it to her.

"No," I say, like a liar.

She frowns.

"Really?"

"But I can help you look for it!" I say. The crack in my voice makes me sound maybe a bit too eager.

She looks around her shoulder. She's quiet for a moment, like she's thinking really hard.

"Okay," she says.

She starts to walk towards the stairs. I follow close behind. Maybe a bit too close, because I can feel the heat radiating from her body, and she keeps casting nervous glances in my direction. But I don't care. I can barely think straight. I want to hold her, to touch her, to really know she's real.

"Hi," I say after a while.

She hesitates. "Hi."

"What's your name?" I sound like a love-struck fourteen-year-old boy.

She's quiet, almost like she's listening to something.

"Hope."

"Hi, Hope. My name's Daniel." My heart has still not calmed down. I swallow and laugh nervously. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I ask without thinking.

She stops and takes a long, hard look at me. My face is burning red.

"How long have you been alone?"

"I haven't seen another living thing in two days."

"Ah."

There's a bout of awkward silence.

"Can I," I hesitate, "Can I hug you?"

She seems very uncomfortable. I feel a pit start to grow in my stomach.

Finally, she sighs and shakes her head. I'm entranced by the way her hair bobs around her face.

"Yes, I guess," she says, and opens her arms. I immediately pull her into a tight hug. I feel her breasts against my chest, my hands around her back, my nose in her hair. I breathe her scent.

That's when I lose it.

Bawling, sobbing, crying, "I'm not alone, I'm not alone!"

My knees go weak and I fall to the floor, dragging Hope down with me. She tries to help me down gently, but we both end up on the floor. My nails dig into her skin. I hold onto her with a vice grip, as if letting go means letting go of reality. She is Hope. She is Hope. She is Hope.

My relief.

My rescue.

My island in an empty sea.

I black out.