By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
The address that Natasha gave Valarie led her and Alice down an unlit alley to the unmarked side entrance of what appeared to be a basement apartment. She stayed close enough to Alice as they walked that their shoulders brushed, and Valarie couldn't fight the feeling that she should keep her back to the brick walls that caged them in. "You think she's trying to kill us?" she asked.
"Fifty-fifty," Alice said. "You're sure this is it?"
"I'm sure that Google Maps says this is it."
Together, they eyed the grey steel door, which was decorated only by a plastic pot of dead mums left by the wayside.
"Well, then that's that," Alice said. "This is the last stop. I don't have any ideas after this."
"I guess so."
Alice half-turned to her. "Valarie, I just need to say–"
"You would have done it for me." She decided that she knew this in the same moment that it came out of her mouth.
"What?"
"This. All of this. You would have done it for me." She kept her gaze forward. "So don't thank me. We're square."
Alice's eyes were like a weight. "Valarie–"
"I know you, Alice Bell. You can't convince me that you're mean and horrible and selfish because you're not despite what you tell yourself."
Alice blinked at her. Her mouth opened then closed.
After half a minute passed in silence, Valarie reached out to knock on the steel door. "It's just Jared," she said, more to herself than to Alice. "I've known him my whole life."
She hardly recognized the man who answered the door moments later.
The Jared Kent that she knew from Valentine was confident, muscular, and was so quick to smile that he'd already earned himself wrinkles around his eyes. He radiated the easy health of a laid-back twenty-something that cared more about his friends and working out than anything else.
The Jared Kent standing in the dark entry, half hidden by the door, was ill. So clearly ill that Valarie couldn't help but conjure up mental pictures of Nonno during his last days. His drooping eyes sunk deep into a too-big skull, which seemed almost visible through ashen skin covered in countless little sores. He wore an oversized band t-shirt that did little to conceal how thin he'd become. His hair was colourless and patchy, like chunks of it had been ripped out at the root.
"Oh, God," Valarie gasped, her hand jumping to cover her mouth upon catching sight of the angry red welts scattered across the inside of his forearm. Some appeared to be infected.
"Val." The door opened further. Jared smiled, showcasing some missing teeth. "I hoped you would come."
Without thinking, Valarie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She could feel his bones and wished that her hug could gather him up, hold him together, as if he were a small child. "Hi," she said. "I missed you."
