Conclusion

. . . It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. I really did believe I'd found the only crevice in the city they wouldn't think to check. Between two dumpsters. How stupid was I. I told myself to move but all my strength had run out. I braced my head against the cold dumpster. It eased the pain but my side still burned. It burned so much. I never felt anything close to that before. No matter how hard I clutched it it kept bleeding. I thought I heard crunching in the alley. How could they find me so fast? I considered letting my self bleed out. I heard about what they do. I didn't want that same fate. But the footsteps passed and so did the thought.

My shirt. I struggled, but managed to get it off. I heard you'd have to press on the hole to keep it from bleeding and I tried, I really tired but it hurt all the more. I gave up. I GAVE UP. You hear me? I didn't want to keep going. I was so cold that snow stopped melting on my face. . . and that should've been it. That would've been a miserable way to go. No one there to even pity me. Maybe someone would've found me, bloodied barely lit by the neon lights. They would've said I was just another tweaker. Written me off in a file that'd be shelved and burned with the rest of the trash within a couple years to make room for the next unlucky girl. Didn't take long for everything to go black.

I thought I woke up in heaven. A warm, itchy heaven. There was that record playing, what was the name of it? Mathilda's Fantasia, I think. You were the only person that could bear to listen to that album. Remember how you hummed along while sipping vigorously sipping your tea? Then you decided to offer me a cup. Sorry I never apologized when I slapped it in your face. I know it hurt. It's just a habit. I still drink anything someone else pours for me. Nobody ever treated me like you. You didn't even know me! I mean, really! Who goes around picking up trash off the floor. This city smells like rot as it is and you really thought that doing one good deed was going to make a difference? Like you could change the world?

You did.

(An airplane flew overhead. It's shadow racing over hill and slope until it finally passed over Nora and the Tranquil Mound. It rushed far into the plains before being swallowed by the brilliant light of the city, a light that stretched far across even the snowy plains yielding only at the foot of the mound.)

I never got to say I was sorry for that vase I broke. You know, the one your wife bought. That's right, Will told me. Even though you told him not to. Could've just said so yourself. I understood sentimentality. If we're being honest, she brought that ugly thing home out of spite, to make sure you remembered who's house it was. That's what I'd do to Alex if I were still with him. He's gone by the way. Although I'm sure you saw him on his way in.

You'd probably say something like, 'don't blame your self' or 'it wasn't your fault.' But then who am I supposed to blame? WHO! Don for pushing him to the brink? Will for just being Will? Charlie? Even though she wasn't supposed to get involved? Do you understand? I have no one else left to blame! You still wouldn't let me carry any of the guilt, would you? It's mine and you'd take even that from me. 'You're just torturing your self' you'd say. Always telling me to look at the Lilies. They weren't even real. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

I still have them, if you must know.

The scar still itches. I still use that stuff you got from the Southern Isles. It helps. I used it for the other scars as well. Ones I never told you about. Ones I couldn't tell you about. You'd only scold me for making the same mistakes. I'd deserve it.

I never said thank you. You saved me. Not just that night in the alley. You saved me. I would have done it, you know. I would have ended all of them. I could have done it so easily. It was just one button. We could have solved all of our problems then and there. I didn't know that it didn't have a battery. Will told me that too. If you see him before I do, please don't be mad. He only told me after you, you know . . . I miss you all the more because of him.

Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for . . . for treating me like you would've treated Lizzy. I know that you're giving her and your wife all the happiness there is to give now that you're all together again. I know I'll see you all when I get there but don't wait up on me, I'm not in any rush. Maybe give them a 'hello' from me.

I'll leave this place someday. I can't stand it but I'm not done here. I still have a few scores to settle. If I play my cards right then maybe I'll find some answers. Maybe just more questions. I don't know when I'll be back. If I'll be back. . . god I should've pushed that button.

. . . Jeannie's still tastes like crap by the way.

(Snow crunched beneath boots as Nora passed obelisks and colonnades leaving a new trail behind as the snow had filled the old. There was no breeze. There were no birds. Only solitude and the light of the neon city. The white sheet had covered all but the driver who, himself, was deathly still up until she was within no more than a pace.)

"Where to Ms. Nomburry?" said the Chauffeur as he opened the door.

"Flux City. Mr. Wiley. Flux City."