Chapter 18 Ana
Ana
There were two dusty bottles of water and an expired Twix bar in Ana’s mini-fridge. Score!
She dropped the bottles into the heavy crate next to her. It was already loaded with random drinks, snacks, and out-of-date sodas she’d collected from other rooms. She was stocking the bus shelter—who knew how long they’d be stuck there for.
Carefully, guiltily, she ripped open the Twix wrapper. There was no point in saving it—it would just disintegrate in the heat, she rationalized.
Holding the chocolate close to her face, she breathed in the intoxicating, sugary scent.
How many hours had it been since she’d eaten?
Too many—that was for sure. She reached out the tip of her tongue and gently, oh so gently, licked the already melting chocolate.
This was as close to heaven as she was going to get today—hopefully.
A shuffle behind made her jump.
Alex was standing in the doorway, his arms full of a random collection of pink bedding and pillows. He grinned. Ana blushed.
“Oh…er…hi. I didn’t see you there…” she mumbled. “Twix?” She held out the second bar with a small pang of regret.
“Hell yes,” Alex said. He dropped the pile of sheets on the bed and sat on the cream-and-brown swirled carpet next to her. “Thanks.” He took the precious Twix, balancing it lovingly in his fingers. He had musician’s hands, long and fine.
They sat, side by side, and munched away in contented silence.
It was weird. After an entire year of avoiding Alex, in this moment, there was no one she would rather be with. Even in this godforsaken hellhole, he made things feel normal—better.
“So, what do you really think about the shelter?” she asked at last.
“I don’t know.” Alex rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “I mean…it’s good. It’s a great idea and all, you know… It’s just…”
“It’s okay. I get it,” Ana cut in. There were a thousand ways it could go wrong.
She didn’t want to hear all the potential flaws in her plan—she was already stressed enough.
What if it failed? What if everyone piled into the bus and it exploded anyway?
Or if they got trapped there, out in the open, and cooked to death?
It would all be her fault. She bit her lip nervously.
“I keep thinking about Benny,” Alex said.
His face was turned away from her, towards the open door.
“He thought it was all a prank, didn’t he?
He had no idea he was actually going to…
” Alex’s profile was outlined against the blisteringly blue square of sky through the doorframe.
His hair had flopped forward; he chewed his lip, searching for words.
“I just wish…I wish I’d said something more.
We shouldn’t have let him go, Ana. We should have stopped him.
” He crumpled up the Twix wrapper and threw it at the wall.
Ana didn’t say the usual platitudes; he made his choice, he didn’t suffer, it was quick—all the things people tell themselves to justify the incomprehensible.
It was too soon—the shock was too real. They had just watched Benny die, right in front of them.
They were hurting and she couldn’t fix that.
Without thinking, she leaned over to Alex and wrapped her arms around him.
Alex dropped his head towards her and buried his face in her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed in his warm familiar scent. Alex.
They sat in silence, pressed against each other as though the world might, just for a moment, fuck off and leave them alone.
Ana felt a mess of words, thoughts, feelings.
It was overwhelming. The fear of the last few hours and of what might come next was mingled with something else, something she couldn’t understand.
It was like a small fire was burning inside.
Hope? Love? She didn’t know, she couldn’t read it.
But as she held Alex, she felt it. There was a deeply buried strength that was stirring in her heart.
They would make it. Somehow. They had to. This feeling couldn’t just disappear. It was too powerful, too pure. It had to be enough.
Didn’t it?
“There’s something I can’t get out of my head.” Alex spoke so softly that for a moment, Ana wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him. “I keep thinking that it should have been me.”
Ana let go of him and pulled back, studying his face, his eyes. Was he really saying that?
“I mean, if you’re talking about guilt, about who deserves to die first, I’m right up there. I should have gone. I should be next.” He said it too quickly, giving himself away. He’d obviously thought this through.
Ana felt a flash of irritation at him. It was his life at stake. He couldn’t just give up like that. He had to fight if he was going to make it out of here. He had to.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” she said.
“Wasn’t it? I mean, let’s be real, Ana. A year ago, Karl Hunt drove up to the gym in his truck, playing Trash Dogs at full volume, singing along to my song, ‘Burn.’ My song, Ana. Not Danny’s or anyone else’s. A song I wrote, the words I wrote.”
“What Hunt did was on him and no one else. He wanted to die. Your song…those were just lyrics. You’re not responsi—”
“I will burn you down. You will scream my name. There’s nowhere to run from me. Your blood will turn to flame… Ana, how am I not responsible?”
“It was just a stupid song. You didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”
“I dunno. Maybe I did?” Alex mumbled the words so quietly Ana barely caught them.
“When I wrote those words, I was thinking about my dad and what he did to my mom and me. My head was really messed up about stuff. I wanted to hurt him, like he hurt us. I had so much anger, just like my dad. Ana, I think I’m like him.
I think maybe inside I’m the same. Bad.”
Ana slipped her hand into his without thinking.
“You’re not like your dad, Alex. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know.
But you’re also human. You’ve never hurt anyone, even if you wanted to.
Yeah, you wrote a song about it, an angry song.
But that’s not weakness or a sign that you’re bad.
That’s a good thing to do. You turned your anger into music.
That’s strength. Your dad couldn’t have done that.
” She faced him, her bright eyes intense.
“What Karl Hunt did with your song. That’s on him.
Not you. Alex, you can’t blame yourself. ”
“But I do. My song, my words, my anger…they meant something to Karl, they inspired him. People died because of it. How can I ever forgive myself?” Alex looked directly at her.
“I am guilty, I deserve to be here, and maybe…I deserve to die here.” She could see the guilt in his eyes, like a reflection of her own guilt.
They stared at each other, words lost between them.
This was the moment. Ana knew it. This was her time to tell him the truth about what had happened a year ago, about what she’d done. The reason why she had been brought here. Why, if anyone deserved to die, it was her. She faltered. Her mind struggled to find the words.
“Alex, there’s something I need to tell you.
” She could do this. He needed to hear it, to understand that what he’d done was nothing; his own guilt and shame paled when compared to hers.
She pushed herself to speak. “You’re not the only one who feels guilty for what happened.
All of us were brought here for a reason.
You just don’t know what the rest of us did, not yet.
” She stared out of the doorway, across the enviable emptiness of the desert.
How could she tell him? How could she let him down?
“What do you mean?”
Ana looked back at him, his soft eyes, his kind face, worry written across it. The words were on her tongue. She could say it. Say the words. Just be done with it. Once and for all.
But even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t.
Not now. If he knew what she’d done, she would lose Alex forever, just like she’d lost Danny.
If he knew the truth, he would despise her.
He would walk away and never look back. With everything they were facing, she just couldn’t take that. Not yet.
“I just mean…it’ll be okay. I promise.”
She dropped her eyes. She had failed him. A coward, once again. He deserved so much better. It was time to shut this down, to stop playing with dangerous feelings like hope and love. Those weren’t for her.
“We should go,” she said abruptly, jumping to her feet. “Time’s running out and that shelter won’t build itself.”
Alex nodded. He looked confused and hurt by her sudden coldness. But it was for his own good. It was better this way.
He stood up and walked over to the bed, scooping up the pile of bedding.
“Okay, sure. Are you coming?”
“You go. I’ll be right behind,” Ana said, turning away from him. She needed a moment. A reset.
“I guess I’ll see you by the shelter.”
Ana closed her eyes and waited until his footsteps had faded.
She could still feel him in her mind, in her arms, his warmth through his T-shirt.
It hurt; the feelings cut into her. It was never worth letting her guard down.
Never. Every time she opened up to someone, life would turn it around and shred her, like a punishment for her weakness.
No. This wasn’t her path. Her path was alone.
But not for her friends. They had a chance for happiness, if they could just escape the motel.
It was time to remember her promise. She had one job here—to keep her friends alive. Nothing more.
***
The water ran cold over Ana’s scarred fingers. She caught it in her cupped hands and splashed it over her face and neck. It felt good in this heat.
Ana stood at the beige bathroom vanity, stained and crusted after decades of motel service. Her chat with Alex had kicked off some things she didn’t want in her head.
Triggers was the word Mr. Dankman had used.
Watch out for triggers. Let the bad thoughts into your head, then let them drift away. Give them permission to be released.
The seventies strip light gave her reflection a bluish tinge—a morbid thought flashed through her mind. Was this what she’d look like when she was dead? She quickly gave herself permission to release that thought.
Instinctively she glanced at the corner of the room, searching for the soapy microphone.
But what she saw stopped her cold.
Her breath caught, held tight as she blinked, trying to make sense of it.
Something told her not to react. She made herself reach for the faucet and go through the motions of washing her hands again, moving on autopilot as her brain raced, finally allowing her eyes to turn upward and study the corner carefully.
There it was. The tiny black dot listening to her. The bug was back. It looked like the soap had been carefully wiped away and the device had been polished clean. Which meant that someone had been in here, climbed up, and fixed it—someone had stood in her bathroom, in her motel room.
If she was right, then Bates was inside the circle.
If she was right…they were not alone.