Luke breathes next to me, his bare body twisted in my sheets. It’s creepy of me to watch him sleep, but watching him, for just a little bit, makes me feel safe. His chest rises and falls. Its smooth now, healed. His arm is fine too. I glide my fingers along my neck. No wound persists.
I stare at the collage on my ceiling. My uncle and I made the man and the girl using images from a spectrum of magazines. The darkest pieces were saved for the long shadows. My uncle used to say we could hide in those shadows. In the shadows you’re safe. You’re safe from every mistake. You’re safe from all your fears. All your faults. No one can find you, no one can see you. No one can hurt you. Whatever you did, whatever shame you have, it’s hidden in the shadows.
I told Mandy that. Sometimes we’d lie on my bed, after a night out or in the morning when she wanted to talk but I didn’t want to get out from under my comforter. We’d stare at the collage. Safe in the shadows.
Mandy’s in the shadows now. Outside the quarantine, with the help of some not-so-vigilant state troopers and some roofies. She’s anonymous. On the run. She’s safe from her dad. She’s safe from the law. For now. She ran from her shame, her guilt.
I forgive her. I do.
But I can’t protect her this time. I have to think of Danny. I have to think of the greater world out there, beyond the quarantine.
I turn to Luke. I rub his shoulder until his purple eyes crack open, and he stretches, sleepily. His hands reach for my hips, and he pulls me across the sheets until our bodies are close. “What is it, baby?”
“I have to tell you something.”