And if I only could, make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places

Now the door is open The world I knew is broken

“Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here
Even if it takes all night or a hundred years
Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near
Wanna feel alive, outside I can fight my fear”

The camp that Yigit took her to was deep in the woods, outside of the city. It had indeed taken them a while to get there, the car getting stuck occasionally on the dirt and gravel roads. It was worth it though. The cabin was quaint, if not a little run down. She kind of liked the shabby look of it, but thought to herself that it might look rather spooky at night time.

She was appreciative of Yigit’s efforts, she could tell he had tidied as best he could on short notice, but it was still pretty rudimentary. It was Spartan in fixture, just a futon and one large armchair to sit on, but it had a bathroom and a tiny kitchen with running water. He set to work getting her extra pillows and him a glass of water, while she sat down and dug out her notebook and pen.

The breeze drifted in through the windows he had opened to air out the mustiness. She closed her eyes and inhaled. It smelled like grass, and pine, and water, and old things. It transported her to the dream world in her head and she leaned back on the cushions of the futon to write.

He sat on the arm chair, alternating between reading a manuscript and checking his phone. She wasn’t really paying him any mind. She was finally making good progress and didn’t dare distract herself. Time moved at a different pace when she was in her head, so she didn’t realize how late it was, or how hungry she was until it was getting dark outside.

She could smell rain, so she got up to close the windows, observing that there was indeed another room at the back of the cabin that she hadn’t noticed before. When she walked to the bathroom she peered in. It was intended as a small bedroom, but only contained traditional floor cushions and an antique wash basin and chamber pot set. She remembered vaguely something Yigit said about his grandfather owning it, or bringing him here as a child. That would explain the decor and general state of it.

When she exited the bathroom she saw Yigit on his phone, pacing back and forth. Something about him struck her, but it was a few seconds before it dawned on her.

He wasn’t using his cane.

Her breath slowed and her heart sped up.

She looked at him again, his long legs making graceful strides, with no visible limp. She looked at the armchair where he had been sitting, his black cane lent up against it.

Was he miraculously cured? He did say his doctor recently okay’d him to drive again. Why wouldn’t he have said something to her about it before today? He looked almost like he had never been injured at all.

Maybe he never was.

Her blood ran cold.

He was preoccupied with something and didn’t notice her emerge. He didn’t hear her quietly step around the back of the futon to where the chair was. She picked up the cane he’d been using for almost a year. It was the same as it always was, but now something about it felt malevolent, almost like it was heavier in her hand.

“Sanem?”

She looked up when he called her name. His eyes were guarded, his skin paler than normal.

She didn’t respond. A million questions and accusations flooding out of her eyes.

“I can explain.”