The One Without Words

❀ chapter thirty-two | 12 more hours of night ❀

Under the dimming daylight, I thought of a moment from weeks ago. Stranded with a drunk Jack on that boat in the middle of the lake. The way he'd fallen, splash, into the water—and then pulled me down with him.

Now he fell again.

I ran to the ledge, expecting to see him bleeding out on the snow below, irises rolled back as the whites of his eyes stared at the sky.

But no. He'd landed on a flat patch of ground not too far below the ledge. The snow broke his fall. I let out a relieved breath as he sat up, disoriented, hair covered in snow as he stared in horror at the fall he'd narrowly avoided.

He was less than a few feet from a much steeper ledge. From rolling down the hills to his death.

Tears welled in my eyes. The sickening pang of regret. This was so much worse than anything my family, my therapists, or anyone had ever thought me capable of.

Sociopath.

How could I have been so stupid? How did I not think of this before? How did I not realize that Jack's silence, a deeper silence than normal, meant something?

It didn't matter. This was reality

Footsteps behind me. I turned around, ready to pull Penelope by the hair and throw her off myself.

But instead of going for round two of our fight, she ran away. Away from her altar. Away from me.

Should I go back to the trailhead? Get to the car and call for help? But one: I'd risk facing Penelope. Two: Night had fallen, and the sky would be completely dark by the time I got back. If I got back.

Why didn't I bring a flashlight again? I could use my phone, but the battery was at 40%, and what if it died on the way back? Then I'd be screwed, and Jack would still be up here.

Alone.

Endless snow and dropping temperatures. No way of navigating in the night. A looming sense of death cloaked around me. But instead of adrenaline, I felt dread.

I had to find a way to get to Jack.

Which meant climbing down the ledge.

Maybe this was when the reckless sociopath thing finally served me. Without thinking, I started making my way down. Slowly, my fingers so cold I barely felt them, slippery in the snow. But I got my feet into wedges in the rock, and I inched down and down and down and—

I slipped.

I expected snow. Worse, I expected to roll off the ground entirely and tumble to the bottom of the mountain, but I landed on something solid. Arms wrapped around me.

I stared up at Jack's flushed cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

He didn't answer. Was it because he was mute, or because he was hurt? His silence felt the same as before. The awkward car ride, the walk on the trail to get here.

Now, in the moment I needed to reach him most, I couldn't.

"You caught me," I said. "I... thanks."

He winced.

"Did you break something?" I asked, getting off him as gently as I could. "Take off your jacket."

Expression blank, he took off his jacket, leaving him in only a thin sweater underneath.

"Is it your arm?" I asked.

He nodded.

Carefully, I reached for his arm. I had absolutely no first aid training, but I needed to make sure a bone wasn't sticking out through his skin.