10:30 p.m.
Morning was far away.
Too far.
Mia wouldn’t survive that long.
Evan stared at the iron fence. Then at his cracked hands. Then at the little girl fading right in front of him.
His mother’s voice echoed in his mind:
Don’t let the world take your heart.
He decided.
He didn’t think about trespassing signs or the sharp iron tips crowning the fence. He thought only about the blue creeping into Mia’s lips.
The metal burned his palms as he climbed. His boots slipped. The wind clawed at his jacket. Halfway up, he nearly fell—but he looked down at Mia, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Stay awake!” he yelled. “I’m coming!”
The spikes tore his jeans. He barely felt it. He dropped hard onto the frozen lawn and ran.
Mia was barely conscious.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
He took off his jacket—the last thing his mother ever gave him—and wrapped it around her. Then he added the damp blanket. He sat on the steps and pulled her into his chest, shielding her with his body.
“You’re okay,” he murmured, teeth chattering violently.
Warmth crept into his limbs—the dangerous kind. He knew if he slept, neither of them would wake up.
“Mama,” he whispered. “I kept my heart.”
Suddenly, the night exploded with light.