Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(86)
He starts toward the woods on soundless feet. Just as he’s about to walk out of my life, I realize that there’s one more thing to say. “Revenge,” I call. He faces me. Eggs darts around him and prances toward me. Kneeling to pet her, I keep my focus on him and swallow. “For what it’s worth … you made me forget, too.”
The Choice smiles. His shirt flutters in the breeze. Watching him, I remember when Eggs ran from me—after I’d bathed her and fallen asleep with her warmth against my back—and I’d realized that some things can never be truly tamed. Revenge doesn’t belong to just one person. He belongs to everyone lost or bound or broken.
I bury my fingers in Eggs’s thick fur and watch him vanish in the trees.
TWENTY-NINE
The bell rings overhead. It’s the last day of school, and the Emotions following my former classmates around are Relief and Excitement and Joy. I stand in a corner and wait for the tide to slow. At the end of the hallway I can see Georgie and Briana. It’s as if nothing has changed: Georgie talks without taking a breath and Briana listens intently, nodding and smiling in the right places. They’re the reason I’m here—I wanted to experience this last day with them, even if I ruined my chance to be part of it. The sight of my friends brings Regret to our tiny school. He leans his hip against a locker and folds his arms. He observes Briana and Georgie with a pinched mouth.
“You know what I’ve learned?” I ask abruptly. Georgie slings her arm around Briana and they head for the doors. Neither of them looks back.
Regret focuses on me now, and he actually seems curious. “What?”
“I may regret what I’ve done, but I regret what I didn’t do more.” The Emotion stays where he is, even after I’ve pushed away from the wall. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away, and then I’m the one that’s gone.
On my way out, a couple kids wave at me. They say have a good summer or I’ll see you soon as they pass each other, and I think of what Forgiveness said about time. It’s always moving even when we feel like it’s stopped completely.
Dong. Dong. Dong. Bag in hand, I halt on the front steps and listen to that damn clock boom over the mountain. It stands there so piously next to the school, like it’s all-powerful and untouchable. Acting on impulse, I march toward it. There’s a small door around the back, right at its base, and after testing the knob to find out whether it’s locked, I go inside. I climb the stairs and enter the tiny room that’s awash with the gold of sunset. One wall is entirely overtaken by the face of the clock, and the shadows of the hour and second hands fall over me. The air is so stifling in here, the heat so overwhelming, that I open the tiny window beside the door. For a moment I watch the seconds tick by. Then my stomach twists and, dropping the bag, I grab the giant hand.
“What are you doing?”
His voice makes me jump, and I spin around to face him. Even though I knew I would see him again, even though I’ve been expecting him, the sight of Forgiveness is terrible and exhilarating. Like watching lightning streak across the sky and then getting struck by one of the bolts.
“Turning back the clock,” I answer, wishing he wasn’t so beautiful. I take hold of the hand again, pushing and pushing and pushing. My muscles bulge with the effort.
“Why are you turning back the clock, Alex?” He asks this as though I do it every day.
I laugh. “Because maybe, just maybe, it’ll actually work.”
Forgiveness is silent now. That’s okay. I have enough words. Too many words, actually. They pour out of me like blood from a wound. The clock moans and grinds as I force it backwards. “Of course, it probably won’t. This isn’t a fairy tale. It’s Franklin. But you never know if you don’t try, right?” I free one hand to swipe at my nose. “All I’ll accomplish is confusing the hell out of the people in town. That’ll be funny, though. Worth it.” Another laugh.
“Alex.”
“I hate when you say my name like that!” I snap, letting the hand go again to glare at him. Dong. Dong. Dong.
“Like what?”
All his questions. I hate his questions. I want them to stop forever. “Like you know me,” I hiss. This time when I move to face the clock, Forgiveness is in my way. His eyes are gentle but unrelenting.
“You didn’t love him, Alex,” he tells me.
“Now you’re telling me how I feel?”
“Think about it. Did you ever seen her when you were together? Love?” He takes a step closer and I instantly retreat. My back hits the wall, and since there’s no plaster, a piece of wood digs into my spine. Forgiveness invades the space around me, infecting the air and my breath and my thoughts. “It’s okay to be afraid. It’s normal. You’ve never let yourself wonder about your future before because you always assumed you wouldn’t have one.” Then he shocks me by wrapping his fingers around my wrists. “Let the clock keep going, Alex.”
Alarm slams through me. I’m not ready for this. “Let go of me! Let go!” I try to wrench away, but Forgiveness only brings me toward him. His skin is warmer than I thought it would be, and, like him, his touch is kind and devastating. Calming, I hiccup and stare at his chin so I don’t have to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to forgive Nate Foster,” I whisper brokenly.