ELENA
We pass by the ranch, the one filled with the memories of Drake with Rosa, but this time, in silence. A few more metres and the next turn will be the pack house. His hand grips the steering wheel loosely; if he so much as turns into that road, I will resist with everything in me.
The car cruises by the turn and he doesn’t bat an eye. I lean into the chair, relieved that he didn’t take me back to the pack house. The silence that punctures the entire car is deafening—“awkward” is the least way to describe it.
Halo fiddles with his gadget, the clanking serving as a reminder that we are still in this realm. I still can’t fully explain what happened back at the museum—the pain, blacking out?
If the doctor back there wasn’t able to explain what happened to me, then who will? I need to
