Chapter Eleven
I wander through the woods, unsure where I'm going.
It's colder than it has been in days--cold enough that I can see my breath.
I wish it would snow. If it snowed, it would be beautiful.
I would be able to hear the flakes of snow hitting the ground and see the light from the street lamps reflecting off of them.
Back home, when it snowed, I would curl up by the fire and watch it, feeling warm and safe. I want nothing more than to be back there now.
But I'm not.
I'm out here, and I'm lost, and I have no idea what to do.
Not without Parker.
As I walk, I come across the edge of a cliff, and I look down into the water below.
Nothing feels real or tangible.
I keep thinking about seeing Lance kill Parker.
It's like I'm still there.
I don't want to have to relive that again.
I don't want to see Parker die.
I don't want to be here alone, but I am. And it's dark and it's cold, and if I'm going to survive, I have to make a plan.