The Run

113

There's got to be a reason.

She's got to have a reason.

I don't understand, Ty. I must have missed something in her story. I get that she wanted to leave her sad excuse of a life. I get she was sick of waiting tables and filling up cups of coffee on a daily basis. I also remember that she didn't have anyone else, except for a useless boyfriend she was fucking scared of anyway. As she said when we first met, she really didn't have anything to lose... but what did she have to gain by coming with me? What's the catch? What did she see in this opportunity that I didn't even offer her, that could benefit her in some way?

There's got to be a reason, right? Why would one do something without a profit of any kind in mind? Did she think she would get me to turn myself in and earn the reward that's on my head? Or did she decide to jump on board when she saw the money in the bag she took from your treehouse? Maybe both? And add a sprinkle of fame on top, "April Jackson, 27, finds missing Twenty One Pilots drummer", boom.

Yeah, that must be it. Because there's gotta be something.

I don't, I'm not sure where we are. Where I am. When we left the hotel a couple days ago (seems like a week, a month, I don't know), I just drove and drove and drove until I couldn't keep my eyes open. She didn't say a word. I think I scared her real good. I settled for a little nap then, forcing her to lay in bed next to me... and then I realized I was the scared one.

Even with my eyes closed, my brain could only focus on her. Her breath. Whenever she turned, my heart would stop and then beat faster. When she coughed, my own breathing would slow down to nothing. And when she finally fell asleep, I swear I could hear her own heart beating into my ribcage, a reminder that there was no peace of mind to be had for me here.

And then the what-ifs. What if she just waited for me to be asleep to fuck off? She'd probably take what was left of the money, right? It's in the safe, behind a secret code, but what if? And then what would she do? She'd hide it away until she could use it, but before that, she'd call the cops on me. She'd tell them exactly where I was. She'd tell them about the RV, about all my fake IDs. She'd tell them what I look like now, and worst of all, she'd tell them about my plan. And that is fucked up.

Because no one can know. It has to happen that way, it just has to. Things wouldn't be right. Why WHY the fuck did I have to go and tell her? It's the only thing I have left. Even that, she took it away from me. Why am I so weak? Why am I always so weak?

It's weakness that brought me here.

I kept tossing and turning, anxiety holding me hostage like I was holding her hostage now. I tried to think of a way. I thought I could tie her up maybe, so I looked for something to help with that, but I didn't even have a rope. The irony. So I decided then that I wouldn't sleep.

I woke her up, and I drove and drove and drove, without thinking of any itinerary. Looking back now, I guess unconsciously I was starting to get closer to Ohio. Finally, when I absolutely could not continue and almost got us out of the road as sleep took over me, I decided to head to a motel once more. At least there, I could lock her in, make sure there was no way out. But even with that, I couldn't fully rest. I dozed off here and there, and the little bit of sleep I could catch was full of anxiety-induced nightmares in which she escaped and came back with a full squadron ready to take me down, and I tried to run towards Columbus, but Columbus seemed farther and farther with every step I took. I would wake up in a sweat then, entirely certain that she'd managed to get out, but she was either asleep next to me, or flicking through the channels on the small tv, or reading an old book she'd found in the bedside drawer.

I don't think I've heard her voice in three days (how is it only three days) and I'm starting to think that this will have to end sooner than I intended too. There's no way I can still go more than a hundred days that way, without sleep, with her by my side.

I know I made of point of honor to keep a single date for your death and mine. But would you really care? After what I've done to you, does it really matter if I don't die on the same day you did? Probably you'd rather have me dead sooner, anyway, right? It's all I deserve. And I think I'm starting to wrap myself around the idea. Who am I kidding anyway? I want to die. When? It doesn't matter.

The only thing keeping me from offing myself right this moment is that girl. She's sleeping right now. She sure has no problem getting some shut-eye. Her eyelashes are so long and dark, I can see them clearly, standing out from her pale skin. If she bats them quickly enough, maybe she can fly. Her mouth is slightly open, and I'm tempted to say she looks peaceful but here eyebrows are knitted together.

Now what the hell am I supposed to do with her?

Should I just leave her when I'm ready, and get it over with quickly before she wakes up?

The only other option floats in my head sometimes. Maybe I could. It would leave me more time.

A part of me says no, I can't simply kill her.

But I've already done that once, haven't I?