3. The Coldest Night
The urge to run away from home, Harry and everything inside the dome grows as the sky darkens. If Harry gets caught, the dome is lifted and everyone inside is set free. My family, my friends, the people I’ve known my entire life. But if Harry escapes, the same thing will happen... Eventually. So either we wait, or we help. Knowing the community I was born and raised in, Harry will be hunted down in no time. If it is Harry they were looking for. I sigh, tossing possibilities over in my mind, but the only conclusion I come to is that Harry is the one they’re looking for. He’s escaped before, meaning he moves all the time, and he’s the only new person in Emmersford for a long time. But why do they want him? What could he possibly do that was this bad? He seemed like a good guy, or maybe it was just an act, a part of his plan. I lie on my back, still tucked out of sight. I look up at the tinted purple sky, realising that I never tended to the cuts on my hands. I quickly sit up, crossing my legs and look at the dried blood. I stick my nail gently in the cut, and it stops only just under the skin. Not too deep. They’ll heal on their own in no time. Another cold gust makes my skin tingle, and I groan, realizing I have to eventually move to stop myself from freezing to death. I take a deep breath, before getting onto my knees, my eyes scanning over the hedge quickly. Nothing but trees, just the way it usually is. The people looking for Harry must have been examining him from afar for a long time since he got here. They knew exactly where to look when the dome went down. Our spot, right at the edge of the woods, as it starts thinning out. No one ever went there. No animals for food, no shelter. They saw it as useless. Not us, we saw it as privacy. I stand up quickly, brushing down my faded jeans and walking slowly around the area. I don’t want to go too far, in case Harry escapes and comes to find me, so I end up settling about fifty meters away, in a little ditch surrounded by bushes. I close my eyes, the weight of today finally landing on my shoulders. My eyes droop heavily, but I can’t fall asleep. I hum to myself; the song Harry declared was ours. I can practically see Harry in on his roof, his jacket draped around my shoulders as we laugh, the radio blaring from his phone. The sunset in the distance and a bottle of vodka beside us. Suddenly, a slow sweet song I’d never heard comes on, and Harry’s face goes serious. “This is my favourite song.” He says softly, taking my small hand in his large one. He smiles at me, his eyes glimmering. “This is our song. Every time you feel like no one loves you, I want you to listen to it, and remember, no matter where in the world I am, I love you.” He says sheepishly, his face going red. He’d never said he loved me before. Ever since that night, I’ve fallen asleep to the sweet melody of our song. Why should tonight be any different?