His entire life, his parents had told him that they loved him, and not once had they shown it. His grandparents, his aunts, his uncles, they said the same. Teachers said he had potential, urged him onward, but even the most supportive of those relationships hadn’t seemed to mean anything. He’d written an email to a favorite teacher from the library, thanking her for her support and letting her know he was happy now. He’d signed with his name. The reply had been a telling ‘who is this?’

His parents had been fine as parents, but they hadn’t felt like family. He could imagine sending his parents a status update and getting a reply like he had from his teacher.

That might be the delirium talking.

“I want to see her,” Kel said, insistent enough to cut through his rambling. “Don’t worry about hurting me. I can’t feel anything. I haven’t been able to feel a lot for a while now.”

He wasn’t positive she was telling the truth, but he set to work, using the knife.

“Eyes forward,” she said. “Focus on what comes next.”

He’d had moments where he’d faced down a crisis and he’d been calm. A past landlord who had pushed his way into the apartment. Dealing with hostile and drunk campers who seemed convinced this was their spot. Leaving the van and the tent they’d hooked up at the rear as an extension to the van only to find himself ten feet away from what might have been a pair of coyotes. Moments he’d faced down danger with composure and came away from it feeling like a man.

He didn’t feel like that here. Panic set in, and Kelly’s voice didn’t help like it had after the horn had given out. The situation was too messy, there were too many question marks.

In the midst of it all, he ceased feeling like himself. He was an outside observer, somehow cataloguing every detail and not registering or keeping a one. Time blurred and the act seemed endless.

And somewhere in the midst of all of that, he found himself being swept up by a current. Lost in the midst of a greater flow of connections that threatened to distract him. He wanted to focus on this, on the future, like she’d said, and this rush of sensations and images threatened to pull him away from it.

He flew among planets, but he really only wanted to be in this planet, in this van, in this mud, with Kelly.

In the midst of it, he felt it give way. There was almost a sentiment to it, a sigh, a frustrated concession.

Power crackled along the knife, and it glowed faintly, illuminating the work he was doing. It was just hot enough to cauterize the open cut.

Kelly, silent, touched his face.