It starts then. The hungry kind of missing-Sasha that makes me feel like she’s just out of reach, not gone forever, and I’m just not trying hard enough to get to her. The thing inside me that’s always on edge drops off its cliff. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m tired or if I’ll never get used to something as simple as not making toast for my sister, but as I climb onto my bike, I feel overwhelmed and alone again. I manage to make it to the end of the block before I’m crying, my chest tightening, like someone has me pinned and is sitting on top of my body.
“I sneak into your room when you are asleep, Merry-monkey. I’ve been doing it for weeks now, since the end of summer. You’re so pretty when you’re asleep. Last night, I pinched your nose shut until you opened your little mouth.”
They are coming.
They are coming and I don’t think we will ever get out. If you’re reading this, please call the police. Call them now; call the cops if there are any cops left to call. Tell them to come find me. I can’t promise we will be here tomorrow or the day after, or the day after that, but tell them to rescue us before it’s too late. Tell them to try.