The bicycle wheel keeps spinning.
It hangs in midair at an awkward angle.
The spokes are bent, sticking out in every direction like sharp, frenzied wires.
It creaks as the wind nudges it.

Felix watches the wheel spin, and the rest of the universe disappears.
If it’s still around him, he couldn’t say.
It vanishes from his awareness, leaving only Felix and that wheel, as if nothing else exists in the world.

It spins.
And spins.
And spins.

There’s only the wheel.
No Cassidy crying.
No blood spreading across the asphalt.
And most of all, no sign of that boy.

Felix looks down at him for the first time, and his stomach churns so violently he’s on the verge of vomiting.

The boy’s chest is twisted into an unnatural position.
His legs are bent at odd angles.
And his arm...
God.

Felix’s breath trembles in his throat.
He forces himself to look.

He takes in the boy’s pale face, his wide eyes framed by thick lashes.
He’s just a kid.
No older than twelve or thirteen.
The helmet he wore is shattered, his blood everywhere.

He’s dead.

Felix had snorted cocaine.
Drunk three glasses of vodka lemonade.
Smoked maybe a couple of joints.
He thought it was the perfect moment to run away with Cassidy.
They stole his dad’s car.
Had sex in the back seat.
Then finished the last few lines of coke.
Felix got behind the wheel like a complete idiot.
And killed a kid.

God, not even that failure of a father of his had sunk this low. Felix, who had judged him so harshly, had managed to surpass the master—to dig through the filth and bury himself in it.

His father might be a drug addict with no prospects, but at least he’s not a murderer.

Can Felix say the same?

Those thoughts stretch through his mind like claws, tearing and scratching. Felix doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. His expression is vacant, as if someone had stolen his soul, leaving only the shell of his body behind. Cassidy’s hands grip his arm and shake him, but Felix barely feels it. She calls his name, but it reaches him like a distant echo. He’s there, but not there. His eyes are locked with the boy’s.

Cassidy shakes him harder.
Felix forces himself to look away from the body.
The moment his eyes meet Cassidy’s, it’s like someone hit “Play.” The world starts moving again at an unnatural speed. The sounds return, the smells, the pain that radiates through his entire body, the warmth of blood trickling down his skin.

“Get up,” Cassidy growls. “Get up, damn it. We can’t stay here. We can’t. We have to go.”

What?

Cassidy rises from the ground. Her legs are shaking, her steps unsteady.

But Felix doesn’t move.

He lowers his head, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“No.”

“No?” Cassidy echoes.

“No. We can’t leave. The boy is dead.”

Cassidy looks at the body, then at Felix. She’s trembling as if she’s freezing.

“That’s exactly why we have to run.”

“Run?” Felix repeats, his voice calm.

“We were high. We drank. And we killed a kid. Do you know what that means? If they catch us, our lives are over—they’ll lock us up for life, we’ll—”

“You didn’t do anything,” Felix interrupts, his voice eerily steady. It’s strange, how panic can either crush you or harden you into steel. Felix feels like thinking isn’t even necessary anymore. His mind knows what to do; someone’s hit the autopilot, and all he has to do now is follow the steps, one by one, as clearly and rationally as possible. There’s nothing to decide—only actions to take.

“I was with you,” Cassidy says. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought if you—”

“I was driving. You had nothing to do with this. I was behind the wheel. It’s my fault.”

“We were both out of our minds, and I didn’t stop you. Do you think a judge will care who had their foot on the pedal when the kid died? We’re both guilty—I was there, I—”

“You were asleep.”

“What?”

“You were asleep. You passed out—back at my place, even. I put you in the car while you were still unconscious and decided on my own to run away with you. I never asked you. I stole my dad’s car because I wanted to leave, and I wanted you to come with me. But you didn’t know. You didn’t know anything, Cass.”

“No.” Cassidy shakes her head rapidly. “Don’t say that. I won’t let you. I won’t let you say that crap and go to jail alone!”

“Cass!” Felix raises his voice.

He stands, positioning himself in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders, holding her still as she struggles, frantic and desperate. “What’s the point of resisting? Do you think I’d be happier if you got in trouble too?”

“I don’t want—” Cassidy starts, her tears flowing heavily down her face, leaving pale streaks where her makeup used to be. “I don’t want you to go to jail, I don’t want you to deal with this, I don’t want—”

Felix doesn’t listen. His mind has detached from any personal feelings. He doesn’t even know what’s driving him—maybe it’s just the instinct he’s seen in countless movies, or maybe it’s his brain’s way of protecting itself, acting like an automaton programmed to follow a series of actions to achieve a goal.

He presses his mouth to hers.
It’s a strange kiss, crooked, tasting of blood, bitter.
It’s not pleasant for either of them.

“Cass. If you go to jail because of me, I’ll kill myself. Is that what you want?”

Cassidy’s eyes widen. She trembles under his hands, sobbing harder. She clings to him, and Felix holds her against him. For a few minutes, he lets her cry into his clothes. Felix might cry too if he could shake off the alien apathy, the unexpected gift of shock.

When Cassidy has calmed down a little, he helps her sit in what’s left of the car. Then he pulls out his phone—the screen is cracked, but it still works. He dials 911 and waits. Every ring feels like a punch to the heart.

When the operator answers, Felix gets straight to the point.

“There’s been an accident. I think I killed a kid.”

Felix sits on the ground, resting his head against the car’s crumpled body. In the distance, he hears sirens. How much time has passed since he called the police? Ten minutes? Maybe more.

What a fool.

Did he really think that running away with Cassidy would lead to the happy life he’d imagined?

That he could escape the horrors of his family?

That he could turn the page and become someone he didn’t have to be ashamed of?

The truth is, not everyone is meant to be happy.

If there weren’t miserable, broken people like him, the lucky ones wouldn’t realize how fortunate they are.

He closes his eyes, a single tear tracing down his face.

How he wishes he could have done it.

Lived with Cassidy.
Escaped from everything.
Built a family.
Loved.

But he was a wretch.
And there was no escaping his misery.