“You should come next time.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Sure.” I sat up. “I have to go, I think I’m going to throw up again.”

After I heaved for another five minutes, I dozed off on the tile with a towel as a pillow. When I woke up, it was noon. Justin had texted good morning three hours ago. I replied with “not feeling great today” and a green-faced emoji. He called immediately, but I didn’t answer.

I got up and managed to make it to the kitchen. My legs felt wobbly. I gulped cold water from the Brita in the fridge. It sloshed in my stomach and came back up a few minutes later in the sink.

I couldn’t remember ever being this miserable. I was sweating through my pajamas, my ribs hurt.

I pawed around the pantry. I was hungry, but we didn’t have soup or broth. I didn’t have tea or crackers or anything else that would settle my stomach. I tried to eat a granola bar I found in my purse, but I knew the second I swallowed it, it wasn’t staying down.

I decided to try to take a shower and just sat in the tub with the water raining down on me with my head between my knees.

If I could stop using the bathroom and throwing up, then I could take the boat and go get groceries and medicine. But even as I thought it, it felt too hard. I was shaky. I sat in the water until it ran cold and then dragged myself out and managed to get into some clean clothes, but I was too out of it to brush my hair so I just left it in the towel.

I climbed into bed with the bathroom trash can, but the stomach cramps curled me into a fetal position. I lay there, hugging the plastic basket with one arm, willing myself to stop vomiting.

I just needed to sleep. I might be able to keep things down if I was asleep. But I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop throwing up.

A smoke alarm somewhere in the house started to chirp low battery.

Chirp.

Chirp.

I was too weak to go looking for it.

I threw up again, holding the can on my lap. Nothing came out.

I drifted off. Woke up to vomit. Woke up to run to the bathroom. My stomach was so empty all I could do was dry heave. My head hurt. My throat hurt. My bones ached. The smoke alarm chirped.

It was six o’clock.

I had a fever. I was shivering and freezing. My hair was still wet from the shower. The towel had come off and my head soaked my pillow. It felt soggy and it smelled like wet feathers.

Chirp.

Justin had been texting me all day and he’d called again but I didn’t answer.

The sound of the smoke alarm permeated my dreams. Taunted me. Kept me from falling asleep. Like a finger poking me every time I drifted off.

Chirp.

Driving me mad.

Chirp.

Chipping away at me.

Chirp.

By midnight I was starting to become concerned about dehydration. I’d been sick for a full day. It would start to pass soon, right? Maybe I’d feel better in the morning?

But I didn’t.

By the time the sun came out again, I was so weak I couldn’t even get up to dump the contents of my trash can. The diarrhea had stopped, but only because there was nothing left. All the water I’d tried to drink just came right back out the way it went in. I sat there in my bed, hot and flushed, sweat soaking the sheets.

A creeping sense of panic began to set in. I was really, really sick.

And I was alone. On this island. A million miles from shore and nobody was coming. I was in a cottage with no address. What would I say if I called for help? Look for the rosebush? How would they find me? How would they get me to shore?

I started to cry, but no tears came.

Where was Mom? I wanted my mom. I vaguely remembered dialing her. It went to voicemail. She always went to voicemail.

Chirp.

I was dizzy. I was awake. I was asleep. I was eight years old and Mom was gone. The food had run out and the smoke alarm was chirping and I was too small to reach it. Couldn’t drag the ladder. Couldn’t ask for help.

Chirp.

Nobody was going to come.

Do I die here? Do I dig up carrots from the yard? Boulders falling on me in a fever dream. Kittens slipping through my fingers like Slinkys, a truck and headlights, Justin. The docking station. The chirp won’t let me sleep. Just be quiet. Be quiet. Be small.

Chirp.

So hungry. My bedroom light was on. Couldn’t get up to turn it off. It screamed into my eyes, burned into my brain.

This is why people need people. For flicking switches.

My phone ringing. Justin calling.

Justin…

“Justin, I’m so sick. No, don’t call an ambulance. I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t.”

Silence.

Chirp.

Nothing…

CHAPTER 31 JUSTIN

The second I hung up with Emma, I was out the door.

She’d sounded bad. Really bad. Disoriented bad.