Chapter EIGHT
If he’d been in more of a carefree mood, if he hadn’t been thinking nonstop about Ty and that night below Benson’s, Chase might have laughed. He never would have pegged Emily Winters for a boyfriend stealer.
But he had other things to consider than Emily’s out-of-the-blue choices.
He had come to Zach’s house to try and unwind. He was thinking they could talk football, maybe shoot some pool on Zach’s stepdad’s new table—anything to take his mind off his date with Ty. This morning he’d actually used the number that had been scrawled across his face, and she’d asked him to come pick her up on a bench in the middle of downtown after ten o’clock tonight. He’d been so nervous dialing her number that the cell phone had slipped out of his hand twice. He never called girls. He texted; he met them at parties; he stopped by their houses after practice. He hadn’t asked a girl out—like for real, on a date—since seventh grade. Sasha Bowlder. This was during the phase when she was too cool for him, when he’d
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
tried to get her to speak to him again. And he still cringed when he thought about how that had turned out. He could still remember every detail of the conversation—the blinding sun, the group of Sasha’s friends watching from the picnic tables, giggling behind cupped palms—all the words etched into his memory like glass marked up by razor blades.
“Um . . . so, I like you.”
“Oh.”
“I know we don’t talk much anymore, but I’d like to change that.”
His heart drumming in his chest, mouth dry. “Do you want to go out with me?”
She turns to see if her friends are watching.
“Are you kidding? I would never go out with you. We might kiss, and I do not kiss trailer trash. I hear they all taste like garbage.”
The words still made him furious. He was not trailer trash.
Ty didn’t think he was trash. He wasn’t going to mess this one up. He wouldn’t let Ty slip through his fingers.
Zach would help him. He’d help Chase relax, and he might offer a few pieces of advice. If nothing else, Zach knew about girls. He knew a lot about girls, in fact.
Zach did a great job of acting like Ascension’s faultless hero, but Chase knew a slightly different side of him. Namely, Chase knew about Zach’s so-called college tours and the copious sex-ual knowledge he’d acquired as a result. College girls were a whole other ball game, he’d told Chase.
But Chase could see that now was not the time to be asking Zach for hookup pointers. Emily’s face had transformed like a slow-motion replay from confusion to horror as soon as she’d 92
F U R Y
seen him. She was frantic, covering her bare chest with a pillow while she ransacked the couch, looking for her bra, with the other.
“This isn’t what you think,” she was babbling. “Please don’t say anything. Please don’t. Gabby—Gabby will kill me. Gabby will die. Please don’t—where is it?—please don’t say anything.
Chase, I—Gabby, I don’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to—”
“Don’t worry, Em. Chase won’t say anything.” Zach stared at Chase, hard, and Chase didn’t like the expression he saw flickering there. It was not a threat, exactly, but something close to it.
Chase immediately regretted coming over. Not only did he have no interest in being involved in this soap opera, but Zach’s tone was a reminder of one of the less pleasant features of their friendship: the tallying up of who owed who what.
There was no way Chase would ask for advice now.
Em was still frantically searching the couch cushions.
“Looking for this?” Chase spied the purple bra, which had somehow landed below the coffee table. He bent over and scooped it up, holding it between two fingers.
“Oh god. Chase—please—I didn’t mean—Zach and I just—it wasn’t supposed to happen.” She stayed where she was, covering herself up, the fireplace creating strange shadows on all of their faces.
Chase rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should have thought about all that before taking this off,” he said, tossing the bra in her direction. She grabbed for it, and turned to the corner to get dressed. Emily was acting as though Chase had never seen a 93
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
half-naked girl before. He stood there watching the scene with a combination of amusement and confusion. Zach stood up and pulled on his shirt.
“What’s up, dude? Did we have plans?” Zach tried to adopt a casual tone. He might have been speaking a little louder than usual—trying to drown out Em’s sniffles.
“No, I, uh . . . I thought you might want to hang out or something. Didn’t realize you had company.”
“Chase,” Emily said, fully dressed and staring at him. She was pale. Chase had never seen her look so shaken. “Please.”
She turned and walked out of the room without saying another word to either of them. Chase watched her go—and watched Zach let her go.
“Em, wait!” Zach made to follow her but stopped when he heard the front door slam. He turned to Chase. “Listen, I know I don’t even need to say this, but you’ve got my back, right? I just, I really don’t want . . . you know. For Gabby’s sake. This can’t get out.”
Even though nothing about this whole scenario could surprise Chase, the look on Zach’s face right now—halfway to being already over it—made Chase feel sick to his stomach.
This kind of thing never used to bother him. But now all he could do was nod in response.
“Hey,” Zach said again. “I’d love to hang out but I’ve got to take her home. She doesn’t have a ride.” He pushed past Chase on his way to the door. “We good?”
Suddenly, all Chase wanted was out. He was sick of always being the accomplice, the one who kept quiet. He knew he 94
F U R Y
owed Zach everything. He would have nothing at AHS if it weren’t for him. And yet, it was starting to feel like a debt he could no longer afford to keep paying.
“I’ll take her home,” Chase suddenly said, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. “I’m sure you have more important stuff to do.”
The first few minutes of the car ride were silent. Chase heard Emily sniffle some more, but he didn’t think she was crying—
come to think of it, the only time he’d ever seen Winters cry was in ninth grade English, when they’d been discussing All Quiet on the Western Front and she’d started talking about sol-diers being resigned to sadness. Chase had to hand it to her—
Em really knew what she was talking about, when it came to words at least.
Emily turned her face toward Chase and he could see that her cheeks were wet with tears. Her long hair hung in messy sections around her face, and she was curled into herself with one boot propped up on the dashboard.
“So. You okay and everything?” Chase asked.
Em sniffed and wiped her nose. “I just—I just need some time to figure out what to do about it. About . . . everything.”
“I’m sure you will. Figure it out, I mean.” Chase fidgeted, his seat belt feeling too tight. He didn’t want to just ditch Em and run, but he still had to prepare for his date with Ty.
“So you’re not going to tell anyone? About me and Zach and . . .” Em trailed off, staring at him with hope and confusion and embarrassment mingled on her face.
95
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
Chase sighed. “Yeah. Whatever. You’re fine by me.”
Em let out a huge sigh and slumped a little more in her seat.
“Thank you, Chase. That’s really . . . Thanks. I seriously owe you.” Her head bobbed with determination. “Anything you need, I’ll do it. Homework help, whatever.”
“I don’t think you can really give me the kind of help I need,” Chase said, staring ahead through the windshield.
“Why? What do you mean?” Em asked. Now she was wiping off her face, trying to pull herself together.
Without intending to, Chase blurted out, “There’s this girl.”
“Someone I know?” Em was watching him, eyes wide.
He shook his head. Now that he had started talking, he might as well keep talking. Maybe Winters would have a femi-nine perspective or something. “She doesn’t go to Ascension.
She’s . . . different. And I’m into her. A lot. But she’s a little bit impossible. I don’t—I can’t really tell if she’s into me.” Chase tapped the wheel with his palm. He couldn’t believe he was spilling his guts to Emily Winters, whose bra he’d been holding not twenty minutes ago.
But at least she had stopped crying.
“Do you—do you want me to talk to her for you?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Definitely not. I don’t know what I want. Just advice, I guess. I want to know how to get through to her.”
Em sat up a little straighter. “Well, what does she like?
What does she do for fun? Is she girly or a tomboy? What kind of stuff does she wear?”
96
F U R Y
Chase almost laughed. He was pretty certain, now, that Em Winters was entirely useless to him. “I have no idea what she likes to do for fun. She f lits around with these crazy cousins—Ali and Meg, we all went out together one time—
and she dates college guys. Like, dudes who read fricking e. e. cummings.”
“E. e. cummings is a good poet,” Em said reproachfully.
“JD and I drove to see his grave in Boston once.” She turned away, tracing a pattern on the window with her finger.
E .e. cummings is buried in Boston, Chase thought. He would have to remember that tidbit. He could mention it in front of Ty and impress her.
And then, suddenly, he had an idea.
“You’re into poetry, aren’t you, Winters? What was that poem you won a prize for? ‘Inevitable’?”
“‘Impossible,’” Em replied cautiously.
Chase pulled into Em’s driveway and shifted toward her impulsively. “Can I have it?” Chase suddenly said.
“Have what?” Em asked, brushing her long, dark hair out of her eyes. “My poem?”
Chase nodded. Maybe this little car ride was going to turn out to be more helpful than he’d thought. “Yeah. That would be perfect. She would love it. It wasn’t about a guy, right? It could be about anyone?”
“I—”
He could see Em hesitating.
“Give me the poem and I’ll keep my mouth shut, I promise,”
Chase said. He hadn’t meant it to sound so, well, threatening.
97
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
But it was only fair. An eye for an eye, or whatever. “Deal?”
Em cleared her throat. Finally, she said, “Sure. Yeah. I’ll email it to you.”
Chase felt a surge of triumph. At last, something might go his way.
“Great. I’ll be in touch,” he said as she opened the car door.
“And, hey—Winters,” he said, right before she slammed it shut.
“It’s okay. Everybody makes mistakes.”
Later that night, Chase drove straight to the bench where Ty would be waiting. It was just outside the candy store where Ascension’s middle school students congregated after school on Friday afternoons. As he pulled up, Chase shoved aside a memory of himself and Sasha, fourth-grade science lab partners, going to pick out gummy worms and root-beer barrels to see how they would react to being immersed in first vinegar, then soda, and finally milk.
When he arrived, Ty was sitting there smiling, surrounded by the glow of a streetlight, with a book in her lap. The street was otherwise deserted. As he got out of his car, the silence and stillness of the night made him a little uneasy.
“Hey there,” she said, not getting up. She looked like a bohemian princess, with her red hair piled high on top of her head and a velvet cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
For someone who used to live in Ascension, she didn’t seem to have a great grasp of the New England town’s climate—
beneath the cloak, which was falling off one shoulder, Ty wore a short dress and ankle boots. “Want to sit here for a minute 98
F U R Y
with me?” She tapped the bench next to her. Chase looked up at the starless sky. Snow was predicted and the night was cold. He’d been envisioning a shared cup of hot chocolate at the twenty-four-hour diner one town over, then—finally—a steamy kiss in his car. But he didn’t want to disappoint Ty, who looked at him expectantly, as though sitting on a bench at ten o’clock at night in 20-degree weather was just, you know, normal.
“Have a sip of this,” she said, pulling an ornate glass bottle from her purse. “It’s this crazy Eastern European stuff I got from a friend. It’ll keep you warm.”
Chase grabbed the bottle as he sat down beside her, and raised it to his mouth. The alcohol tasted like Ty smelled—
earthy, sweet, thick, foreign. She watched him take a sip.
“It kind of makes everything glow,” she said gleefully.
“From the inside out.”
He had to agree. He didn’t know if it was the booze or Ty’s influence or the first symptoms of hypothermia, but everything he looked at—the black fringe of trees by McKeane Park, coated with frost; the snow-spotted street; the dark windowpanes—all seemed to be somehow fluid, boundaries blurring, buildings pouring into one another.
“I’ve never just sat here at this time of night,” he said. “It seems so much . . . older. Calmer. Does that make sense?”
Ty smiled. “The buildings, the streets, the town speak for themselves at night, don’t they?” she said. “You can really feel the place.”
“It’s not, like, clogged up with people’s bullshit.” Chase 99
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
hoped he didn’t sound dumb.
“So true.” Ty was looking at him with big eyes and a gentle smile. Then she stood up.
“Let’s explore,” she said. “It’s been so long since I’ve been back!” Chase tried to remember what she’d said about living in Ascension—that she’d moved away ages ago. He wondered what she was doing back here, of all places, but something about her carefree attitude made him keep his questions to himself.
Instead, he tried to take charge. Like he was used to.
“Hey, if you’re into exploring, wanna see something cool?”
He grabbed her hand and led her down the street, toward the park. The traffic lights were all on late-night, blinking mode.
There were no cars on the road.
“It’s like a ghost town!” Ty shouted into the night air.
He stopped in front of Ascension Town Hall, where all the windows were darkened.
“Are we getting married?” Ty giggled as she asked the question. “I think it’s after business hours.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed open a gate at the side of the building. “This way.” There was a brick path that led around a corner, opening up into a small courtyard behind Town Hall. “This is public property,” he said, “but no one knows about it. I found it once, just wandering. Sometimes I come here—to think.”
“Whoa,” she breathed, taking in the silent, snow-covered patio. It wasn’t much, but he had to admit that in this light, it looked magical.
“I bet there are even people who work at Town Hall who 100
F U R Y
never hang out in this spot,” he scoffed, proud to show her something new.
She twirled around, giving a loud whoop that echoed between the walls. “A secret garden!”
He whooped too, as much for the sound as to release the strange giddiness he felt.
“Where does this path go?” Ty pointed toward another gated walkway backing the far corner of the courtyard.
“Back out toward the middle school,” Chase answered.
“Over near Rambling Brook.”
“Oooh—let’s go see if the water’s frozen,” she said. It was hard to deny her excitement.
She skipped ahead of him, turning around to beckon him every few steps, until they reached the Rambling Brook Bridge, which crossed over the small river that bisected downtown. Ty stopped and peered over the edge. Her hair fell out of its loose bun, and now its long, silky, shock-red strands were blowing all around her face.
“Doesn’t the breeze feel amazing?” she shouted. Chase shivered, trying to see what she saw, feel what she felt. But it was a freezing winter night—and the “breeze” had a piercing chill to it.
“Hey, be careful there,” he said, trying not to sound tense as he lightly touched her bare, pale arm. As always, when he touched her, a zing of electricity went through his fingers.
“Don’t worry,” she said, still staring down at the dark, thin stream below them. “The drop isn’t bad.” It was true. The river was only about fifteen feet below them. But Chase felt a pang in 101
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
his stomach. It was a different bridge, a different night, a different girl, but he found himself imagining Sasha’s fall. Sasha climbing the overpass railing. Sasha looking down below her. Sasha thinking about the drop. Not just the physical fall, but the end of things—how everything you have can disappear in a moment.
Chase felt a spasm in his chest. He had been happy when she was miserable. He had felt vindicated. He had thought, People get what they deserve.
Now, thinking of Sasha’s last moments, he just felt sick.
“Let’s keep going,” Chase said, giving Ty a gentle nudge with his hip. In front of them, a streetlight illuminated the first few flakes of snow. They were falling fast.
Instead of moving forward, though, Ty gripped the railing tighter. And then, like a cat, she maneuvered herself from the ground onto the bridge’s low, wide railing, her long legs looking graceful as she balanced on the rail, slowly letting go and standing up.
“Hey! Seriously!” Chase shouted, not bothering to control his voice anymore. He didn’t want to grab her and cause her to lose her balance, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch her get hurt.
She smiled and lifted her arms like a dancer. “I bet I could do a dance up here,” she said, pointing her right toe.
“Ty, please get down,” Chase said, his urgency increasing.
“It’s not safe. It’s slippery.”
Ty twirled to face the river—a quick, tight motion, with her little cape flaring out around her—and then turned to face him again. She looked beautiful, crazy, almost translucent. She 102
F U R Y
pointed her other foot. He blinked snow out of his eyes.
“Ty, please,” Chase said again. “You really should get down. A girl almost died like this last week. On a bridge, I mean. Off a bridge.”
He couldn’t tell if Ty could hear him.
“I’m fine, silly,” she said, sticking her right leg out behind her and balancing ballerina-style. “Why don’t you get up here with me?”
“Ty, really, please . . .” Chase stretched his hands toward her, as though he could pluck her off the railing.
“Aw. You are such a scaredy-cat,” she said, jumping like a gazelle so that she was just out of his reach but still standing on the railing.
“Okay, you’re right, I am. I’m freaking scared. Now will you please just get down from there?” Chase could hear the pleading in his voice, on the verge of panic.
“Will you ask me nicely?” She lifted her arms above her head and pirouetted. Her boots clanged against the metal railing, and he felt his heart stutter with terror.
“What—? I am asking you nicely. I’m begging you to—”
She cut him off. “Beg me for real,” she said. Her smile looked wild.
“Please, Ty.” He could barely breathe.
She just shook her head and tossed her hair mischievously.
“Uh-uh,” she singsonged. “On your knees.”
Without thinking about it, he did as she asked, his hands clasped in front of his face. “I’m begging you to get down.”
Please don’t start crying. He would not cry in front of her. His 103
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
eyes stung. He saw a f lash of light in his peripheral vision, as though a car had passed, but the street behind them was empty.
And then, with a soft leap, she was beside him, pulling him off the ground. His knees were wet from the snow.
Chase let out a huge breath, making a cloud in the frigid air in front of his face. “What the hell was that about?” he demanded.
Ty wrinkled her eyebrows. “Don’t be mad! I was just having fun,” she said, smiling.
“I’m serious, Ty. I told you a girl practically died that way, and it’s like you didn’t even hear me or you didn’t care.” Chase couldn’t help it—he was furious still. He didn’t want to be out here with her anymore. He was getting a creepy feeling about the whole thing.
“Chase, Chase,” she said, more softly now. “Don’t you know we all die sometime?”
“What?” He stood there stiffly, staring at her, feeling like the entire evening had been ruined.
“Never mind,” she said. Then she grabbed his face with both hands and leaned in close. “I’m so sorry I scared you,” she whispered. There was something in her shining eyes that made him believe her. And when she took his hand in her own small palm, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. More than relief, really; it was like he’d had another gulp of that European liquor she carried around—he felt warm and numb. It was all going to be okay.
104
F U R Y
As they continued their walk, they rounded a corner and found themselves looking at the middle school athletic fields, covered in clean, unbroken snow that unrolled before them like a sheet of blank paper. As they walked into the expanse, they looked behind them to see their footprints, lonely and stark, creating patterns in the crystalline whiteness. Ty’s footprints seemed to disappear into the snow much faster, melting away almost entirely.
“Let’s make snow angels,” Chase said. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid.
“Snow what?”
“Snow angels. You know.”
Ty shook her head.
“You’ve never made a snow angel?” Chase laughed. “Maybe there is something I can teach you!” He turned and fell into the white fluff, flapping his arms and feet and not caring what he looked like. Not even caring—well, not too much—that the new navy peacoat his mother had bought him for Christmas was getting damp from the snow. He gingerly stood up and stepped out of his imprint.
“See? There’s the head, and there are the wings,” he said, taking Ty’s hand and pointing at his creation. She smiled wider than Chase had ever seen, showing off those mind-bendingly perfect teeth, then turned, dropped, and made an angel of her own. She stood up, giggling.
“I did it!” She pointed. Then they peppered the field with angels until they were soaked. As Chase watched Ty run around the field, catching snowflakes and rolling in the snow, he remembered what it was like to be a kid, before things like 105
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
money and popularity and sports stats and girlfriends mattered.
Then he spread his arms wide and let himself sink backward in the snow. The stars winked and flashed above him.
Then she appeared in his vision, standing over his feet, blot-ting out a piece of the sky. He put out his hands for her to help him up. And as he stood, they were half embracing. He was shivering so badly, he had trouble keeping his teeth from chat-tering. She had to be freezing. Her cloak was matted with snow.
“Want my coat?” He started to take it off.
“It won’t help much,” she said, pointing to its dripping collar.
“Let’s go to my car.” Chase reached for her hand and was surprised to feel it was warm.
They ran back through the streets, breathless and laughing.
In the station wagon, the heat took years to sputter to life; they sat huddled close in the front seat, Chase rubbing his hands together with Ty’s, though hers felt warmer than his. Chase’s heart was thumping in his chest. He was sure that she would hear it.
“Where to?” He prayed she wouldn’t ask him to take her home. He wanted to stay with her forever.
“I want to know what it’s like to be Chase Singer. Let’s go back to your place.” She smiled and twirled a piece of damp hair around her pointer finger.
“You got it, beautiful.”
As before, having her bright, glowing presence in the tiny space made his home seem less dreary and cramped than usual.
“Want some hot chocolate? I’ll make it for you the way my 106
F U R Y
mom used to make it for me,” he said, already assembling the ingredients on the counter. She smiled, then stood behind him at the clunky little stove as he warmed the milk in a small pot, added the cocoa, then mixed in a dash of cinnamon, a dash of cayenne pepper, and a dollop of honey.
“Sweet and spicy, huh?” She leaned into her mug, taking a deep breath.
“That’s the secret,” Chase said, leaning against the flimsy linoleum counter. Ty stood in front of him, both hands wrapped around her mug (in a tacky pink font, it read: Over the hill and picking up speed—a gift for his mom’s fortieth birthday). Ty’s cheeks were pink and she was looking up at him happily. This was it. She wanted him to kiss her.
Chase put his mug down and cleared his throat. Then, with his hands squeezing the edge of the counter behind him, he bent his head toward her. He could practically feel her soft lips on his.
But like a tape measure snapping back into its coil, Ty whipped away. She looked at him, stricken, and put down her mug.
“I can’t—I can’t stay,” she said softly. In moments, her unfinished hot chocolate was on the table, her cloak was back on, and she was standing in the doorway nervously running her hand through her long, red hair. “I’m sorry. Good night.” Then she stepped out the door.
“Wait, Ty!” Chase stepped out after her. “I’m sorry,” he said, shoving his bare feet into his damp, snowy boots. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”
But by the time he got to the trailer’s front step, she was 107
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
gone. He had no idea how she had disappeared so quickly and wondered if maybe she had hitched a ride, or if her cousins had been waiting outside for her.
He looked around. He could see the lights on in the Hen-dersons’ trailer across the park, and the skeletons of trees in the distance. Otherwise, everything was just slushy gray-white.
The whole trailer park felt cold, abandoned, like something wonderful had been snuffed out.
As Chase stood there, he felt that itch begin to work in his blood again, that drumming need. He was reminded once again of the night his father died—the silence that seemed to close in around him sometimes when he was alone. But the way he felt now—this emptiness—it was different. Worse, somehow. If he didn’t see Ty again . . . well, he didn’t know what would happen. He didn’t know what he would do.
He couldn’t lose her.
He stayed there, staring into the dark. He stayed there, thinking about how he hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask her about the Ascension Football Feast—he’d wanted to, so badly, but he just hadn’t found the right moment, the perfect way to say it. He stayed there, thinking about how beautiful she’d looked under the snowy streetlights, her skin translucent and glowing, even in the yellow-tinged hue of his crappy kitchen.
He stood there remembering how close she’d stayed as he’d leaned over the stove.
She dazzled him.
And that’s where he was, staring into the night, when he saw the bouncing glow of his mom’s reflector vest. That meant 108
F U R Y
it had to be around one in the morning already. Time had slipped away. Chase hadn’t even realized his fingers were turning purple.
When his mom saw Chase, her expression clouded.
“Chase? What are you doing outside? Are you okay?” Her hair, graying at the temples, formed a frayed halo around her face.
Chase looked down at his feet.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, so softly the words seemed to dissolve into the cold.
“Oh, honey. Where’s your new coat?”
“Inside.” He shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts.
She patted his shoulder, squinting at him, concerned. “Let’s go in. I’ll make you something hot to eat, okay?”
He followed her numbly into the trailer. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t protest when his mom went to the stove and started making macaroni and cheese. Chase couldn’t help but notice how the kitchen had gone back to its normal squalor.
The trash smelled, the light flickered. He wondered if that was why Ty had run off so fast. If she’d been disgusted by him.
Restless, Chase grabbed his free weights from the floor underneath the sofa and started lifting. Like he always did when he needed to relieve a little stress, he figured he’d do a hundred reps. But after a hundred, it just wasn’t enough. He kept lifting and lifting, feeling his muscles searing but unable to stop.
His mom came over and sat down with her bowl of mac and cheese and dug around the couch cushions for the TV remote.
Sweat dripped off Chase’s forehead but he kept on lifting.
109
E L I Z A B E T H M I L E S
“Chase, what’s going on with you?” she asked, taking a large bite of the noodles.
“Mom! I’m fine.”
Just then the power went out. As it did, movement at the window caught Chase’s eye.
His heart stopped. There, staring at him, was Sasha Bowlder.
She was pressed up against the glass, like she used to do when she would sneak over and make funny faces at him through the window—but now her face was distorted, leering, grotesque.
Bang. The weights slipped from his hands, and without meaning to, he let out a cry.
The lights clicked back on.
The window was dark and empty.
110