Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I stumble into a clearing. Aaron’s cabin.
A plume of smoke rises from the chimney, and the lights are on inside.
Kyra vs. the Rest of the World
“Aaron?” Like yesterday, I knock and enter the cabin slowly, but today I’m met with the comforting warmth of a fire. Aaron has the radio tuned to a classical station, and he sits at the kitchen table, working on his miniature plane.
He’s so focused on applying the wheels to the landing gear that I don’t think he hears me.
I clear my throat.
Aaron startles, scattering pieces of the plane across the table. “Corey! What are you doing here?”
“I…” I’m not sure what to say. “I came to see you yesterday, but you weren’t here. You—this cabin”—I gesture around me—“it looked abandoned.”
He frowns. “What are you talking about?” He looks around the room, as if trying to see what I’d seen. Everything is as it was yesterday, including his mug on the coffee table, but now his cabin looks lived in, homey.
I blink and shake my head. “I—I’m leaving early tomorrow morning. I wanted to say goodbye.”
He scratches his neck. “Oh. Okay.”
I try to find the right words. “I also wanted to ask… How did Kyra die? I promise, I won’t hurt Kyra’s memory. I don’t want to get between Lost and its beliefs. But I need closure. She was my best friend.”
This part of Kyra’s story is still hazy to me. I know the Hendersons withheld Kyra’s medication. I know the town believed that Kyra’s death was foretold, so they didn’t help her, even though she seemed to be suicidal. I know she was exhausted. But Kyra had also promised to wait. She knew I was coming.
“You saw her every day. You cared for her. You must know what happened.” Aaron is silent, so I continue. “I know you know this isn’t right.”
His silence lengthens until, eventually, I sigh and stalk toward the door.
“Corey.” Aaron’s voice is quiet, and I have to strain to hear him over the radio. “Wait.”
I bite my lip and perch against the kitchen counter. Aaron gets up and pulls a mug from a shelf, filling it with coffee from the pot. When he turns back to me, he has a haunted look in his eyes.
“Kyra had had enough of it,” he says, without preamble. “She wanted out. She wanted to go to Fairbanks, to find that therapist of hers—Rowanne. She wanted to admit herself into a treatment center. Life here… It was devouring her. In that sense, Mrs. Henderson was right. She was burning up.”
He holds out the mug to me, and I wrap my fingers around the hot ceramic. “What happened?”
Aaron rubs his ear. “You have to understand, Lost Creek had become a better place these last few months. Whether it was prophecy or not, Kyra’s art brought us all together, and that, along with Mr. Sarin’s potential investments, gave this town hope again. After so many years of struggling to make ends meet, hope can be a dangerous thing. They wanted to cling to it with both hands.”
“Aaron. Tell me.”
“She tried to get away. She said she was going to hitch a ride on the mail plane. She had a bag packed and everything, and she told me that she was going to get in touch with you as soon as she reached Fairbanks. She trusted you. She knew you would’ve understood her leaving.”
She trusted me. The words pack a vicious punch. I don’t know if I deserved her trust.
“What happened?” I ask, fiercer than I intend. “Did you tell anyone about her plan?”
Aaron recoils. “No! No, of course not. But it’s hard to keep secrets in this community, you know that. Maybe she asked old Mrs. Morden for help too. All I know is I followed her into town to make sure she was safe. But when she made it to the airstrip to meet the mail plane, the town was waiting. And they refused to let her go. The sheriff. Her parents. Mr. Lucas. They turned her around, quick as that. Her father brought her back to the spa. I stayed far enough away that I couldn’t hear what was said between them, but I could tell that they were arguing.
“When her dad left, Kyra locked herself in her room and didn’t come out until much later that night, after I urged her to eat some food.” He clears his throat. “She looked like she’d been crying for hours, but she smiled at me and ate every last morsel. Later that night, when I was out for my walk, I saw her sitting on the balcony, staring up at the stars. The Milky Way was so bright that night. It almost looked like she could step out onto it, like a road of stars into the heavens.”
“And then?” The radio reception fades, and soft white noise fills the space between us.
Aaron grimaces, then continues. “The following night, I went to check on Kyra and she was gone. From her footprints, I thought maybe she had headed for the highway, so I went after her. She would have frozen before she saw a car, let alone reached the next town. But as I was walking, I noticed that the path to White Wolf Lake was trampled, like the whole town had trekked out there. So I went too. They must have followed Kyra out there, or maybe they pushed her out there, I don’t know. Everyone was standing on the shoreline. The Hendersons. The sheriff. Mrs. Morden and her granddaughter, Piper. Everyone.”
He pauses. “The moon was bright that night, but it took me a moment to see Kyra. She wasn’t in the crowd—she was running across the ice. And she slipped. She fell. I don’t know if the ice was weak or broken, but when she tried to get up, she fell through. I tried to push through the crowd, but no one moved to help her or make a path. They watched. They just watched.”
His voice breaks. “She was too far away. In the time it took me to get to her, she was gone. There was nothing I could do to help her.”
I close my eyes and see the townspeople standing around the burning cabin. The empty stares. Mr. Henderson clutching Kyra’s scarf.
“They let her die,” I whisper.
Aaron shakes his head. “She wanted to get out, one way or another. But Lost wanted to protect her legacy. They wanted to fulfill her prophecies. They needed to keep believing.”
“She could’ve waited until I… I would’ve helped…” My voice catches and I can’t vocalize the rest of the sentence. If I do, I’ll start crying. And if I start crying, I’ll never stop.
Aaron puts an arm around me and speaks softly. “She waited for a long time, but I don’t think she could wait any longer. Trust me, kid, I wish she were here too.”
“They killed her,” I choke.
“They didn’t understand her. They were frightened of her. They used her. That’s what killed her.”
Letter from Kyra to Corey
unsent, kept by Hendersons
Dear Corey,
I’m not sure if you’ll ever read this, but I have to leave a note in case you come here and I’m gone, whatever gone means. I hope it means that I make it out of here alive, but if not… I still can’t stay.
And if you do read this…
You were my best friend. For so long, you were my only friend. I never said thank you for that. I know I wasn’t always the easiest person to be around. I know I pushed you away. I know you suffered for being my friend, though I hope it doesn’t feel that way.
You made my life better by being in it.
We shared so much, happiness and anger, secrets and a kiss… But it’s so hard to share fear. I tried to explain, but I knew you wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you could’ve. I know you thought I was fearless, but I never was. Until Lost discovered my paintings. And I forgot to be afraid. Those first days, those first weeks, when they kept coming to me, I thought maybe Lost had actually changed for the better. I forgot to be afraid.
But I am now. And I should have been when you left.
I lost you. I don’t know if I lost you when you left or before then. There was so much we didn’t talk about. Like those times we hurt each other and pretended later that nothing had happened.