Best Way Out

10

CHAPTER TEN

—

“I can't believe it,” Amirah says. “I made it. I am triumph. I am strength. I am resilience.”

“Fucking annoying is what you are,” Victor retorts, taking a seat at the ledge of the building and dangling his legs over precariously.

A frown graces Amirah's lips and she reaches over to shove Victor in the shoulder, before realising that they're twenty feet above the ground and pushing him may not be her greatest idea, not unless she wants to spend the rest of her life living with the guilt of killing a man.

Though, if she did push Victor off the edge, it would simply be payback for all the walking he made her do.

"Truly ableist of you to make me climb six floors."

"You climbed one floor, Amirah. We took the elevator."

"Semantics."

A sigh leaves Victor as he wriggles on the ledge, likely making himself more comfortable. It really is a tiny ledge. "That's the second time you've used that word in the wrong context. Starting to believe that nothing I say will change you."

"Why tamper with perfection?" she muses, scooting closer to Victor. Just for some safety, in case she accidentally falls off. "Also, that one floor was still too much," she adds as an afterthought.

"I literally told you that I live on the first floor, you're the one who wanted to come up to the terrace."

Pursing her lips, she resorts to only lightly nudging him in the shoulder, such that if, on the off-chance, he does tumble off the ledge, it can't be pinned on her. "I wanted to see the stars."

At that, Victor smiles. "Yeah, okay, can't argue with that."

Gazing out at the open sky is a vastly familiar experience. A camouflage of a single colour but different hues. Rain clouds— they're always there during this time of June, but it never really rains, just drizzles— lay etched as scattered ornaments. The moon winks at her, a tiny nod of acknowledgement, as if to say, we meet again.

Except this time, it isn't really a meeting with the moon. It's just co-existence within Victor's little bubble. Victor's little bubble is a good place to be.
 
"What are you thinking about?"

Nothing, Amirah's first instinct is to say, because she would rather jump than let Victor know that she was thinking about his little bubble— an oddly inappropriate statement to make, but instead, what leaves her mouth is, "I thought that not being in a relationship would kill me."

Victor coughs. "Sorry?"

Now that she's started, she may as well go on.

"My entire self worth was in Alice's hands," she mumbles. The fabric of Victor's flannel brushes against her fingers. She's grateful for it, it's grounding. "I thought I was nothing without her. She told me what to do, where to go, and I went with it, because it's always easy to just go with it."

"Amirah..." Victor trails off, and he sounds so much like a disappointed parent that she has to laugh.

Clearing her throat, she shakes her head, because Victor is looking at her like she's absolutely insane for laughing. "I know. It's fucked up," she agrees with a sigh. "I just— I really did like her. I liked the idea of some day, being in love, and being loved back. I love the idea of being loved."

But I let myself get absolutely fucking ruined in the process, she wants to add, but she doesn't, because she isn't ruined. She refuses to speak the idea that Alice could ever possibly ruin her into existence.