This Is Where It Ends

by Marieke Nijkamp

“Claire, I don’t think anything happened to Tyler. I think Tyler is happening to us.”

Terror is our strongest force because we’re only afraid when we have something to lose—our lives, our loves…our dignity.

Tyler’s plan is revenge, which he’ll get—not by killing us but by killing everyone we hold dear.

The only two people who matter now are in front of me—the boy who broke me and the girl who put me back together. I will not let him take her away from me again.

If she dies, I will never be able to tell her that she is the one who keeps me standing. That her lips taste like a promise. That she makes me want to be a better version of myself. If she dies, I will believe every ugly word Dad ever said about me.

there were two types of people in this world: those who belong to the soil and the good, rich earth, planting their seeds to blossom, and those who belong to the road and the endless horizons, carrying their home on their shoulders wherever they go. Life turned Autumn into one of the wandering, and she was becoming restless.

A current passes through the crowd with the news of each survivor. Relief and sorrow follow each other rapidly, because with the names of those who live comes the void of those who have not. Death brings life; life brings death. There are no words in that fleeting moment between hope and the knowledge. There is no way to express how a heart can burst and break at the same time, how the sun can cut through the darkness but will cast shadows everywhere.

You can’t always keep your loved ones with you. You can’t always settle your life in one place. The world was made to change. But as long as you cherish the memories and make new ones along on the way, no matter where you are, you’ll always be at home.”

The lantern gently tugs upward. It’s warm enough, ready to be released. I hold on for one more moment. Then, around me, other lanterns are released. They float over our heads into the darkness, toward the promise of a new day. I take a deep breath and caress the rice paper between thumb and finger. And I let go.