The Wait

The digital clock on my bedside ticks over from twelve-fifty-nine to one a.m.

I blink at it. How am I still awake? I thought I washed away the remaining adrenaline from the fight in the shower, but I still feel tiny zaps of it in my blood.

Huffing, I grab my phone from my bedside table, throw my blankets off, and roll onto my back. I unlock the screen and squint as the brightness burns my retinas. Through the watery haze, I set my phone to night mode, making the screen easier on my eyes. I have no new texts and no missed calls. I don't know why I checked. One a.m. is considered an early night to Selena. The only notification I have is from Facebook. You have a new memory to look back on today. I click the notification and it takes me to the Facebook memory. On this day two years ago, it reads, and it's a picture of Blade and I at Portland's Maine Zoo. We're standing side by side and we're happy. I mean, we don't look happy because the massive, yellow snake we're holding is trying to wr