She told Taylor and Luke she was going to pee and went out into the woods to a place outside of their visual range. She found the sullied shards of a broken beer bottle and, buzzing with adrenaline, drew the edges that were sharpest across her arms. The electric sting that sliced through her forearms as she cut them again and again was more powerful than her overwhelming feelings. The glass, now coated with her blood, became slippery as she used it. She started crying. But the multitude of splits in her arms were still weeping more than she was. The sharp sting had climaxed to an overall burning sensation that induced her body to start shaking. She watched her body forming clots to stop the flow of blood. She could feel the disunity in part of her wanting to be punished and another part, whatever part was forming those clots, wanting her to thrive. She watched her blood fall into the dust and laminate the grass blades.

Aria could see herself in the bruises that hugged Aston’s face. It was a tragedy to be hidden. A cycle of perpetual let-down that neither of them could find a way to escape. It was not even the pain of yesterday that mattered. It was that the pain was back again today.

She wanted there to be a sunrise on the darkness of his life. But she couldn’t make one for him any more than she could make one for herself.

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18

Aria had developed a cold again. Her body ached and her throat was sore. The pressure in her head made her feel disconnected from the world and it seemed like her voice had risen up into her sinuses. Taylor had gone out looking for work and had promised to try to bring something back for her to eat.

In predictable fashion, Ciarra had returned to the camp with Aston a few days earlier and Mike was watching him again. The bruises on his face had diminished and turned yellow-green. Aria didn’t want him to get sick, but she was playing with him anyway because of how sad she felt for him. Aston had spied a way out of his boredom when Aria had exited the Land Cruiser and sat down beside it, looking to get some sun. He had brought his little collection of Hot Wheels cars over to her and asked her if she wanted to play.

“Not like that, like this,” he said, dissatisfied with the method she was using to scoot one of the cars across the dirt.

“Vroom!” Aria sounded, trying to make an engine noise to bring life to their game of pretend. But Aston cut her attempt short.

“They don’t make that sound. That’s the wrong kind of engine. They sound like this … zzzzzz.”