Right now, future shock doesn’t sound so bad. I’d do anything to wipe these twenty-four hours from my brain.
I finally understand why I’m going to kill myself. I’ll never be able to escape the memory of killing the others or the guilt. How could I live with myself after that?
I pull the gun out of my backpack, the metal heavy and cold in my hand. I should pull the trigger now and save the others’ lives. What exactly am I living for, anyway? There’s no one who would miss me. Even if I live, I won’t have much of a future. Not a monster like me.
Footsteps approach and I shove the gun into my backpack. Adam stands in the rain, dark hair clinging to his face, wet clothes clinging to his tall, lean frame. His eyes find mine through the downpour. I don’t want him to see me like this, but it’s too late.
“You’re still bleeding,” he says. “Let me look at it.”
Am I? I touch my face and find a trace of blood mixed in with the rain. Not enough to worry about.
He moves closer and opens his first aid kit. I want to tell him not to bother, to leave me alone, but my throat aches and I can’t summon the energy to speak. I keep my eyes to the side, unable to look at him as he cleans my wound. He works quickly but his touch is gentle. I feel the heat rising off his body and his breath on my cheek.
When he’s done, he brushes damp hair out of my face, his fingers trailing lightly across my skin. “Are you okay?”
His touch makes me feel things I can’t allow myself to feel right now. I pull away. “I’m fine.”
“Elena, you can trust me.”
My breath catches at his words. Is this what Future-Adam meant when he told me to trust Adam when the time came? Is this that moment?
Adam’s blue eyes study me from behind his glasses, and they’re so sincere I want to tell him the truth. I want to spill everything I know, to have someone else to talk to about it. But I don’t want him to look at me like I’m a killer. I shake my head.
But he doesn’t leave like I’d hoped. Instead he leans against the wall and pulls something out of his pocket. Silver origami paper.
“Where did you get that?” I ask.
“From my house. My future house, I mean. I figured my older self wouldn’t mind me taking some paper.”
I can’t believe he’s doing this right now. But as he creases and folds, I find I can’t pull my eyes away, hypnotized by his long fingers patiently working on the paper.
In a minute he’s made a tiny origami boat. He offers it to me. “Hold this.”
“What…?” I take it, resting the silver ship on my palm. It looks sort of like a triangular party hat. It’s pretty cute, but it’s not as impressive as the unicorn he made me (twice).
“My mom’s the one who first taught me how to make origami.” He whips out a sheet of gold paper and begins to fold another boat for himself. “I was about seven or eight. She found me crying on the back porch, sitting in the pouring rain, because some kids had beat me up at school again. She folded an origami boat out of paper and said, ‘Put all your troubles into this.’ Then she placed it in one of the puddles and let it float away with the rain.”
His voice is filled with so much love that it sends pangs through my heart. I touch my mother’s watch, a wave of longing and grief washing through me. I’m honored he shared this memory with me, even If I doubt an origami boat can actually help ease my troubles.
He bends down and sets his golden boat adrift in one of the larger puddles, where it spins in a circle. “Your turn.”
I feel silly, but I place the silver boat in the puddle next to his. The two race around, chasing each other, then dip into a little stream and drift away toward the street. And as they vanish into the darkness I do feel lighter somehow.
“Why did you make me a unicorn before?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s from my favorite movie, Blade Runner.”
“Never seen it.”
“It’s old but still good. We should watch it together when this is all over.”
I can’t believe he still wants a future with me, even after what he saw me do. He needs to know the truth.
“I would have killed those cops,” I say. “If you hadn’t stopped me.”