“I love you,” I tell her. “More than there are stars.”
We stay that way until morning, when the sun rises over the ocean.
I wake, unsure of what woke me.
The night is black. There are screams coming from the halls, but that is not out of the ordinary.
Nurses bustle past my room, but they don’t stop at my door. There is no need.
I stare at the ceiling, and I count the tiles.
Then I hear it again.
A knock on my window.
I lunge from my bed, and press my face to the glass, and Calla is outside. She’s dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, and her hair shines red in the moonlight.
I can’t open the window, and she knows it.
“Come,” she urges me, gesturing me to join her. “Let’s leave this place.”
I nod. I pull on clothing, real clothing from my suitcase, and leave my hospital pajamas on the bed. I leave my suitcase in the closet. I can buy anything I need after I leave.
Calla waits, and I poke my head out my doorway.
No nurses in sight.
I slip down the halls, stealthily in and out of doorways, quietly, quickly. Within minutes, I make my way to the South Door. I know that the second I open it, alarms will sound. And they do.
I burst through and take off running.
I run for Calla and when I reach her, she grabs my hand.
Together, we sprint for her car.
Dropping inside, she starts it before we’re even strapped in, and tears down the road.
“Where are we going?” I ask her.
“Does it matter?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“I guess not.” And it doesn’t. I’m with her, and she’s with me. That’s what matters.
Trees blur past and the ocean, and nobody is behind us.
We relax.
I slip Finn’s necklace back over Calla’s head, where it belongs. It nestles against her chest and she sighs deeply.
I hold out my hand and she grasps it, her fingers intertwined with mine, as she drives with her left hand.
“Nothing matters but that we’re together,” she says firmly.
“Yes,” I agree.
“I love you.”
“More than there are stars in the sky,” I tell her.