Chapter 2

The highway stretched endlessly ahead, a black ribbon cutting through nothing.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles had gone white. Rocky sat in the passenger seat, his golden fur catching the early morning light. He was the only family I had left who'd never betrayed me.

My phone buzzed again.

I reached over and turned it off. But not before I saw the notifications.

47 missed calls.

73 text messages.

Too little, too late.

Rocky whined softly and put his paw on my arm. He knew. Dogs always know when their humans are breaking apart.

"We're okay, boy," I whispered. "We're going somewhere they can't follow."

But I was lying to both of us.

The Canadian border appeared ahead like a portal to another world. The guard barely glanced at my passport. Why would he? I looked like any other American taking a vacation.

He couldn't see the cancer eating my bones.

He couldn't see the family that chose my replacement.

"Purpose of visit?" he asked routinely.

"Freedom," I said.

He stamped my passport without looking up.

Twenty miles past the border, I pulled over at a rest stop. Rocky jumped out and immediately started investigating every rock and tree like they were the most fascinating things in the universe.

I took out my phone one last time.

The messages were getting desperate now:

ETHAN: [Emma please call me back. We can fix this.]

MOM: [Your brother feels terrible. Come home. We need to talk.]

RYAN: [I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Please answer.]

I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound that scared a crow from a nearby tree.

Sienna was worried because the attention wasn't on her anymore.

I opened the back of my phone and pulled out the SIM card. It was such a small thing. Barely bigger than my thumbnail.

But it was my chain. My leash. My prison.

I walked to the guardrail and threw it as hard as I could. It disappeared into the wilderness below.

Rocky came bounding back, tail wagging. He didn't ask questions. He didn't demand explanations.

"We're free now, boy," I told him. "We're finally free."

But freedom felt a lot like falling.

The drive to Alaska took three days. I slept in cheap motels where nobody asked questions. Rocky and I shared gas station hot dogs and stale coffee.

For the first time in months, I was hungry.

Not for food. For something else. Something I couldn't name.

Maybe it was peace.

Denali Regional Airport was smaller than my high school. Sophie's truck idled outside the tiny terminal, exhaust visible in the cold air.

I saw her before she saw me.

Sophie Chen. My roommate from Stanford. The only person who ever saw me—really saw me—and stayed.

When she spotted me walking across the parking lot, her face went white.

"Jesus Christ, Emma," she breathed as I approached. "What happened to you?"

I caught my reflection in her truck window. Hollow cheeks. Dark circles. I'd lost twenty pounds since the kidney surgery.

But that wasn't why she was staring.

It was my eyes. They were different now. Empty.

"They took everything," I said simply. "So I'm taking myself back."

Sophie pulled me into a hug that smelled like pine trees and wood smoke. I broke apart in her arms right there in the airport parking lot.

Rocky jumped into the truck bed without being asked. He'd always been smarter than the rest of us.

Sophie's cabin sat on the edge of nowhere. No neighbors. No cell towers.

The silence here was different from the silence at home. At home, silence meant disappointment. Here, it meant possibility.

That first night, the aurora borealis painted the sky in impossible shades of green and gold. Sophie and I sat on her porch with mugs of hot chocolate, watching the light dance.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold my mug.

"Em," Sophie said carefully. "How long has it been since you've eaten a real meal?"

"I eat."

"Eating and surviving aren't the same thing."

I took a sip of chocolate. It was too sweet. Everything tasted wrong now.

"I need to tell you something," I said. "And you can't try to save me."

Sophie set down her mug. She knew that tone.

"I'm listening."

The words stuck in my throat. I'd never said them out loud before. Saying them made them real.

"I have cancer."

Sophie's mug fell. It shattered against the wooden deck, chocolate splashing everywhere.

"What?" Her voice cracked. "When—how long—"

"Stage four. Bone cancer. They found it two months after the kidney surgery."

"OMG, Emma, that was four months ago! Why didn't you—"

"Tell who?" I laughed bitterly. "Mom was too busy taking care of Sienna's depression. Ryan was planning his promotion celebration. Ethan was—" My voice broke. "Ethan was already pulling away."

Sophie's hands flew to her mouth.

"The doctors said stress and weakened immunity might have triggered it. Apparently, giving away pieces of yourself has consequences."

"We need to get you to a hospital—"

"No." The word came out harder than I intended. "I'm done fighting for people who never fought for me."

"Emma—"

"I want to die here, Sophie. In the light. Not in some sterile room while they pretend to care."

Silence stretched between us. The aurora continued its ancient dance, indifferent to human pain.

"Does anyone know?" Sophie whispered.

I shook my head. "They were too busy saving Sienna. Nobody noticed I was dying."

Sophie started crying. Ugly, broken sobs that matched something inside my chest.

"How long?" she asked.

"Three weeks. Maybe four."

"That's not enough time—"

"It's enough time for me."

Rocky padded over and put his head on my lap. He'd been doing that more lately. Dogs know about death. They understand what humans refuse to accept.

Sophie wiped her eyes. "What do you need?"

"Just this. Just to watch the lights. Just to be somewhere beautiful when it ends."

The aurora flickered and shifted, painting our faces in otherworldly glow.

For the first time in years, I felt something that might be peace.

Tomorrow I'd start dying properly.

But tonight, I was finally alive.