“How far are we going to go?”
He squeezes my hand. The rings he wears cuts into my skin; my eyes water.
“I trust you” I say but as I say it my throat burns. The tears hurt. Will there be more pain? “Owe.” I say. He squeezes harder. “I trust you.”
I’m not sure he notices that he is hurting me. His gaze is off; he is thinking of something else. I whisper his name.
“Hey…” I say.
Most of me says run away from him. There is too much to him but…the dreams. They’ve called me ever since I can remember. It’s like every piece, every clue dreamt has pointed towards here; the old empty train tunnel, the river, the dried up tree that stands like an old grandfather with gnarly hands.
All of my dreams have conspired to this moment. Now I know why because every other sign says run; every part of me, the pain in my hand, the pain in his face. That look, the dark, the innocence.
*I tried experimenting with semicolons using the advice provided in the link below.
