Jared didn't turn to look at Alex; he shifted the truck into a higher gear. The engine grumbled, working harder in four wheel drive. The heavy vehicle showed no sign of sliding on the slick surface. "Do you want to die?"
Alex's eyes slid closed. He rested his forehead on the passenger window and considered Jared's words. His face and hand ached, his skin burned from the cold and inside he felt as if someone had run him through a shredder. He wondered when just being alive started hurting so much. The darkness beckoned him to take refuge there, to buffer himself with the façade of not caring. Alex longed for that, endless dark, quiet, free from pain, and fear. He struggled to remember something, anything at all, worth the effort.
Pulling his hand out of his glove Alex fisted his hand around the small scrap of paper nestled in his palm. The fragile note crumpled in his grasp. He hadn't read it, didn't know what it said. It didn't matter.
"No." his whisper misted the glass.
"Okay."
And it was enough.
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