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.
