Page 101 of Existential

Beth crosses her arms, rubbing her sides as she sighs. “It’s not you I’m most worried about.”

“Hooch will be fine, too.” I have to believe he will, otherwise I’ll forever live with the guilt if I hear he does something rash because I left.

All indicators are that he’s better. He’s alert, interested in his work, and he commands the men around this place with confidence. The only problem he has … is me.

I can’t help but feel that if I uncomplicated things for him, he’ll find it easier to get back to the man he was before I knew him.

“If he retreats into his shell,” I tell Beth, “then promise me you’ll nag him until he talks to someone.” I look at her, tapping my fingertips against my bottom lip. “His biggest problem is that he won’t ask for help because it looks weak.”

She nods, reaching out to run a hand over my upper arm. “Take care, okay?”

I smile and turn away before I can change my mind. Hooch will be fine. Beth will be fine. Nobody actually needs me—nobody ever has. All I’ve ever been is a catalyst to their change. Still, as I walk down the long drive and see all the work I put in to tidy up the place, something stirs in my gut. I close my eyes, blindly walking over the messed up dirt for a few steps while I gather myself.

I’m not leaving anything behind that was promised to me. I came, I stayed, I learnt a few hard truths, and now I’m leaving to try my luck again. I’m young, so many opportunities ahead of me, so why does it hurt to leave something I’ve only known for a short while behind?

I turn and look back the way I’ve come, at the majestic house as it peeks out from between the trees, at the grey clouds rolling across the sky. The place is picture perfect, yet it’s what’s inside that I appreciate the most.

Belonging. A sense of community. People who, no matter how things get twisted upside down, stick together.

If only it was my path to take. This is Hooch’s world, not mine. I have to remember that.

Hanging my head, I turn back to the gates and restart my walk to town while giving myself a pep talk about strength, independence, and trust. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t realize there’s anyone coming toward me until the earth shakes beneath my feet.

The bike slows and stops before me, the one man I didn’t want to see during my hasty exit staring back at me with clear confusion written across his disturbingly handsome features.

“Didn’t think you’d be leavin’.” Digits drops both feet to the ground, balancing his bike as he regards me with his arms folded. “Where you headed?”

“Nowhere you’ll be.”

He clicks his tongue, grimacing. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He chuckles, quiet at first, the sound building as he shakes his head.

I mentally map out my best exit strategy while he’s preoccupied with his own madness.

“Hop on, Dagne. I’ll give you a lift.”

Any other day, and I might have trusted a man with such boyish charms. But behind those stormy eyes lies destruction and desolation. I shake my head, sidestepping to carry on toward the gate.

He looks down at my feet as I pass, pulling an unimpressed expression. “Not really walking shoes, are they?”

My boots have done the job until now. My feet will harden up again. “So?”

“Just get on,” he demands.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid,” I scoff.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Well,” I say, raising both eyebrows. “I’m afraid you’ll be bitterly disappointed then.” I set off at a quick step, hugging the side of the driveway where it’s more difficult for him to ride the bike at a slow pace over the rough edges.

I don’t need to turn around to figure out the click and crunch is the sound of him kicking the stand out and getting off. I don’t even need to hold my breath to hear his as he charges after me.

Clutching my bag to my chest so it doesn’t bang against me, I break into a run, sprinting for the gates. What shelter they’ll provide? I don’t know. But something about aiming for that target makes the struggle worthwhile. If I can just make it—

My legs folds awkwardly beneath me as I tumble to the dirt, my teeth clenched in anticipation for the break. By some miracle, Digits’ weight misses me as he crashes down after me, my ankle rolling painfully, but not too far as to snap a bone.

I grimace and push to my knees, grappling for purchase in the dirt as I try to launch for the gate like a sprinter at the blocks. A cry breaks free, Digits’ hand wrapped around my injured ankle as he tugs me down again.

I stare up at the asshole and frown to save from crying in frustration. “What do you want from me?”