I scrunch my face. “Owe you?” I would no sooner employ Jason for protection than I would a toaster in a bathtub.
He frowns. “You can’t just walk around here looking the way you do and expect me not to notice. You’re a prime target, especially with all these fish monster shenanigans going on around us. One of them might snatch you up. Eat you alive. I see what happens to women like you on the street. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like them.”
My jaw drops. “Looking the way I do? Like a human?”
“You flaunt your body. I see it. Everyone sees it. And if you wanna do that, that’s fine, but then don’t come crying to me about the consequences. Suddenly, you’re out and about all the time. Coming and going all hours of the night and day. It’s wrong. You’re going to get yourself into trouble, get tangled up with the wrong kind of people.”
How the fuck does he know? The feeling of being watched. That familiar agoraphobic fear. Reassured. Confirmed. Right in front of my door.
My hand tightens on my keychain with the spike. I almost want to touch my fingertip to it just to feel its sharpness.
But also, I don’t need a confrontation with Jason. I fucking hate Jason. And if he knew about what was going on with me, who knows what would happen? Nothing good. Probably something fatal. He might get the rest of the police force involved. What if they found Mack? What would they do? I’m ready to spiral right down the drain.
But instead, I purse my lips, close my eyes, and offer a tight smile. “Can you move? I have to feed my crab.”
Chapter 28
I’m in my apartment, writing my last assignment. When I’m finished, I’ll collect my items and what’s left of my dignity (wasn’t much to begin with, if I’m honest) and drive back to Mack’s. I would take my work to his place, but it’s so barren, and besides, I don’t want any distractions while we’re together. Especially not any distractions with protestors and police officers. I want to stay in the bubble. Don’t cross any lines in the time we have left. I’ve rented a car because time is of the essence.
And we have seven days.
Seven days, four hours, fifty-five minutes until the portal opens and Mack jumps into the ocean and out of this entire universe. At least, that’s the plan.
Who knows where he’ll actually end up? A black hole, a deep, dark pit? Evaporated? Dead. My stomach churns acid when I even think about it. So, I just won’t think about it.
Mack was right when he said we were at a stalemate. We’re completely stuck in our positions.
Mack can’t stay here anymore, and I know that. His transformation has blossomed from the inside out, and he’s no longer a being fit for this world. And I get that too. He deserves to live where he’ll be accepted. Where he’s not hidden away. Where his family can’t be ashamed.
And me . . .
Well, let’s face it. There was a reason I fired my last therapist. Because she didn’t manage to fix me. And that’s because I’m unfixable.
These last few weeks of leaving the apartment—trying new things, falling in love, having sex, being brave—are nothing more than a blip in my timeline. Every time I leave my apartment, I risk the hurt and pain of the outside world. And I’m not ready to be a walking target or a raw, exposed nerve. I want to hide away instead. Revert to the old me. The only way I’ll stay safe.
Maybe that makes me a coward. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
If I take the pills, everything can go on as normal. Miserably, oppressively normal.
I like it that way.
Except for the part where I’ll sacrifice the love of my life. Except for that one small, insignificant, teeny, tiny detail. But who’s keeping score?
I flip on my computer screen but then jerk around, looking over my shoulder. I shiver, and goose bumps coat my arms.
There’s that eerie feeling again. The feeling that I’m being watched.
Maybe I’m off kilter from all the craziness that’s been going on. I don’t know.
I push the thoughts aside and begin typing.
In the end, researcher Theodore Lake can only posit educated guesses based on theory. Do portals exist? And if so, when or where do they exist? And why do they exist? And if scientists do create the technology to locate portals, can the human body withstand the impact of interdimensional travel? These questions and more remain as we continue our research on this very important topic.
I push oxygen through my lips, leaning back in my chair when I’m done. Again, I’m not going to think about it.
Don’t fucking think about it!
Once I’ve sent the assignment off, I feed the crab and check the features of his tank. Water temperature and pH, plant distribution, food varieties. I can’t tell if he’s happy or not. It’s hard to say because he’s only about an inch wide and half an inch off the ground, but still, I care about his comfort. He might just be a little bug, but he’s a little bug who’s far away from home.
Once he’s sufficiently cared for, I run into my closet and change, choosing another long-sleeve shirt. I close my eyes so I can’t see the shimmering forest-green scales on my forearms. My hands tremble lightly. I’m nervous because we’ve got to make the most of this time together, but all I can seem to feel is bone-crushing despair.
I wonder if, after he’s gone, I’ll still read our text messages.
Jules: I want to see you every day, okay? I want to spend as much time together as possible.
Mack: So do I.
Jules: And we can just pretend. We can pretend nothing’s happening. We can play house. Make believe that everything’s okay.
Mack: We can pretend.
This is what he’s agreed to. But deep down, there is no pretending.
Before I run out the door, I grab the orange bottle off the table, uncap it, and dump a singular blue pill into my palm. I throw it into my mouth and force a dry swallow. I almost choke it back up, but I will it to scrape down my throat.
What’s done is done.
I hustle down the steps and make my way to the coffee shop, keys in hand.
