Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Was this another sick joke of fate? That this young man would appear before Kyle right now, standing like a guardian between him and the approaching sun?
An annoying, stubborn guardian, who isn’t even aware of what he’s guarding?
But Kyle didn’t come here to be saved.
He came here to die.
And the sun is seconds away. “Get out of my face.”
“Get off of my rock, you naked weirdo.”
“I’m warning you—”
“You think you can scare me? Buddy, I’m no stranger to death threats. Threaten me all you want. See what happens. But I will get my spot one way or another.”
“Just let me—” Kyle chokes. He didn’t expect tears. “Just let me be, please? Leave me alone. Get out of my way and … and just—” His throat grows tight, voice shaking. “Just let me fucking die.”
Elias’s face changes. “You’re … You’re dying?”
Sunlight erupts behind the young man right then, framing him like a fiery halo.
He has now become a silhouette of cold, protective shadow that falls over Kyle’s face and chest.
The only thing standing between him and death.
“And you’re ruining it,” says Kyle. Then he huffs, throws his hands. “Who am I kidding? Nothing’s ever gone right since the day I left home, my real home, since the day I chose to stop suffering. Oh, the irony … I’ve suffered every day since. You were so fucking wrong, Tristan.” Kyle lets out a laugh, at once turning manic. “I wish I was never born.”
Elias scrunches up his nose, confused. “Who’s Tristan?”
“Just move a little to the left, even a foot will do, if you can manage that.” Kyle leans his head back on the rock. A tear falls down his cheek, tickling. “I’ll be gone soon anyway, then we’ll both get what we want.”
“Are you sick? Is it cancer? Tumor? Broken heart? Who the hell is this Tristan guy?”
“Just move already.”
“Wait, what’s that smell?”
“Move.”
“Like someone left the oven on, and—What the fuck, are your feet on fire?” Elias twists slightly to get a look.
That movement is just enough to let loose the fiery beast at his back.
Sunlight pours over Kyle’s face.
“Oh my god,” Elias exclaims. “What the—?”
Kyle, feeling the sunrise coat his body like liquid fire, uses his last bit of strength to shove the bewildered shape of Elias off of him. When the light consumes Kyle in its ravenous rays, he doesn’t even have the energy to scream.
So he decides to tell himself another story, just like Tristan said to do in these troubling situations: He’s merely running a bath and let the water get too hot, scalding him. He’s waiting in the line of an amusement park, baking under the harsh summer sun. It doesn’t matter the story he tells himself, the effect is the same, that he’s dying, that this is at last his end, that after one horrible period of lukewarm pain, he will be no more, Kyle Amos and everything he suffered.
The next moment, he’s pressed to the ground, the sunlight gone. Cold, comforting shadow falls over his body.
Kyle opens his eyes.
Elias is on top of him, face in front of his, aghast. “What in the motherfuck was that??”
“Get off of me.”
“Are you flammable? Were you cursed by a sun shaman? What the actual fuck?”
“I said get off of me.”
“Hell no, I’m not getting off of you. I don’t care if you’re naked. Why are your feet smoking like a Thanksgiving turkey?”
Kyle doesn’t move on the rough, cracked earth as Elias’s weight shifts on top of him. Elias pops the buttons off his shirt. Tie, flung aside. A muscular chest, golden brown. Shirt covers Kyle’s face, but everything is still blinding bright. Hands scoop under him. “Stop.” All his energy to protest is gone. “Get off.”
“I’m not letting go of you. Stop fighting me!”
“I want to die.”
“Fuck me, you’re hot to the touch, like a human iron.”
None of Elias’s efforts are graceful or smooth. Kyle feels like he’s being dragged over the sand by his feet. Then by his shoulders. Then by his feet again, head hitting every rock and ridge. Kyle knows there is no hope. The nearest dwelling isn’t for miles. Elias’s efforts are in vain. Kyle’s life will end while being dragged over the dusty earth like a sack of trash. Not the ideal way he planned, but at least it will be over soon.
Then, he can see them all again.
10.
Elias.
—∙—
Kyle stirs, then opens an eye.
A ceiling fan hangs overhead. Round and round the blades go, buzzing quietly.
A sharp pain scatters through his skull. He attempts to lift a hand to his temple, wincing, only to discover his hands bound by rope. He peers down, groggy. His feet appear to be bound as well. He’s on a twin bed in an unfamiliar bedroom. A tattered white dress shirt covers him at the waist, his only dignity, naked otherwise. It’s Elias’s shirt. He recognizes the blood around the neck and upturned collar. TV is on, the soft murmur of a news station, from the sound of it. A bird sits outside on the sill of the window arranging a thorny nest of odds and ends. It seems to be dusk, barely a sign of light in the sky.