Five hills over, my legs collided with something solid and sent me tumbling to the ground, knocking the breath out of me on impact. My right palm landed in a puddle of dampness in the midst of the desert. Blinking the dust out of my eyes, I brought my hand close to my face. It was shiny and dark, the only details I could make out. Dropping my hand, I looked over to see what I ran into and met a hollow set of eyes barely detectable in the darkness. The sticky dampness on my palm and the metallic scent in the air both showing me the direness even though I was unable to actually see it clearly.

“Pa . . . ,” I breathed more so than spoke.

Lying on his side in the rut between rows, his eyes locked on mine but he made no acknowledgment of my presence.

“‘Have you ever seen the rain . . .’”

“Pa.” I spoke firmer this time, cutting off his singing.

His eyes drifted shut as he rolled away from me to his other side.

I wrapped my hand around his wrist to stop him, finding it slippery. I wiped and wiped but a flow of liquid continued bubbling from his arm. “Pa! What’d you do?” A sliver of moonlight pushed through a cloud and gave just enough illumination for me to see the long, angry slashes on his arm, wrist to elbow. “Why? Why would you do this?”

“I needed to get it out . . .” His murmurings made no sense.

“Get what out?”

“The darkness.” His thick arm pulled out of my grasp as he flopped on his back. “Get on to the house now.”

“I ain’t leaving you out here. . . . We need to get some help.” I looked around us, trying to figure how in the world to reach him. The glint of a knife in the dirt caught my eye. Snatching it off the ground and pressing the blade to my own arm was what it took to conjure a response from him.

Pa blinked and then blinked again before drawing his eyebrows together. “Give me that,” he said in a tired voice void of any emotion.

“No.” I scooted on my butt until I was out of his reach. “I live your darkness. Just like you, Pa. I need to get it out too.” The blade pinched the skin at the crook of my elbow as I pressed harder.

Pa sat up and lunged for the knife. I dodged away from him, his big form sluggish from his comatose state or the blood loss, I wasn’t sure, but it gave me enough time to keep away from him.

“Austin,” Pa groaned as he slumped against a tobacco plant, breaking it in two. His lethargic reaction was worrisome.