He always arrives on time.

His cheeks are never puffing red to show he's been running late. He never waits around – he's always heading somewhere – and he never allows himself to be helped.

He's starting to remind me of an automaton. Even though his heart beats freely, he moves like he's made of steel.

Alyssa has spent most of the day in control, trying her best to focus on the never-ending equations, the conversations. Maybe she was trying to make up for those memories we saw. Or kissing Mr. Dark. I'm not sure which one makes me feel worse.

A lead weigh settles in my stomach, growing heavier every time I peer at him. Through the cracks, I can see him, Dr. Light, walking down that corridor, in the facility, looking at me for a mere fraction of second. One fraction, before moving on. Deciding I wasn't worth saving.

Again, his one-word answer rings out.

"You".

Fumbling for the notes Alyssa has made throughout the day, Emma helps me shove the exercise books inside my bag. Noah hovers by the tree, folding the page corner of a historical novel. Unfolding. Folding again. He hasn't spoken to me much, leaving a small vacuum in an otherwise energised atmosphere.

Miss Kirby's comment about joining a team has had Alyssa holed up in my mind, worrying and obsessing over what she should do. Not what we should. We have a second chance at life, and I refuse to let her waste it on revenge.

"Noah," Emma begins. He jerks forward, nearly falls of his ledge.

"Aren't you going to talk to Alice about..." she trails off, raising her eyebrows. Lowering my own, I zip up my bag.

"Talk to me about what?" I ask.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. It can wait till tomorrow". Emma sighs as if she's a teacher slaving over a troublesome kindergartener. I shrug my shoulders. I don't mind waiting for tomorrow.

Behind me, Light clears his throat, causing Noah to fall from his perch. He straightens up and plonks himself next to Emma. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost hiding behind her.

"Are you ready?" Light turns to look at me from over his shoulder. No, not yet. I'm saying goodbye to my friends.

"I'll see you both tomorrow then," I smile. Emma doesn't let me stand without a hug. She smells of fresh roses and cut grass. Noah just offers me a tiny wave. I'm just about to stand when he asks,

"What kind of Doctor is he?" Dodging a sharp elbow from Emma, he scrabbles around in his pockets. I can feel the irritation surging from Light and I revel in it. Bathe in it. He left me. He watched me roll past on a gurney bound for horrors no one should ever have to endure. He did nothing.

"He's the family Doctor," I jump in. "He's very overprotective".

'I can think of a few other choice words,' says Alyssa. Trust her to come out of hiding to just insult Dr. Light.

'Shut up,' I tell her. 'I'm handling this'.

'I can see that'.

"Where were you trained?" Now Emma's asking questions. Which one should I say? Secret facility or Harvard University? This time, Light answers, his voice colder than iced coffee.

"Harvard". Another of his famous one-word replies. He motions for us to leave, the way he slants his head reminding me of Mr. Dark.

I fight the shiver that runs through my bones.

"Any more questions? If not, we shall be going". Emma sits forward, and I will forever love her for the power in her stare.

"Yeah. Do you ever smile?" Noah chokes on his own tongue, while I hide my gasp.

'I mean, it's a fair question,' Alyssa points out.

'You've seen him smile'.

'That wasn't a smile. That was an accident that just happened to be on his face'. Fighting the laugh, I give my friends – I think that's what they are – an apologetic wave.

With a grunt, Light leads me past the glass walls and the countless potted palm plants, all the way to the car. A tin can, a lead prison.

The earth congregates around my feet, threatens to drag me down. I will not be dragged down. The images of the facility, so clear in my head, ensure that.

I will not quietly. I will not go willingly. I will not go at all.

Light unlocks the door, stepping aside to let me past. I try to look away – failing miserably. How am I supposed to feel? I don't know what he wants, what he's trying to do. Somehow, I doubt he knows either.

The sun seeps behind a cloud, as if it too senses the tension in the air. Dr. Light did nothing and he's doing nothing now.

Clearing my mind, I ease onto the passenger seat, wondering if it will take my weight. My life has caved in, why shouldn't the seat? I rub my eyes. Light is doing something, by doing nothing. He could have told the Foundation the truth, but he didn't. He's risking everything for... For what? For me? No. There's no reason for him to keep quiet.

Alyssa won't kill him; she can't kill him. She can do a lot of things, but I know she won't do that.

'I would do anything to protect you'. It isn't a direct thought – she wasn't trying to tell me that. The partition between our minds is a floodgate and sometimes, stray thoughts slip through.

I shake my head. It's probably a lie.

Dr. Light slumps next to me, hands jolting onto the steering wheel. Although he's as pristine as usual, he's the most unkept I've ever seen him. Even as he inserts the keys, his fingers fumble. At first, the car stalls and we're silent save for the coughing of the engine.

It isn't until we're near the exit that Light tries to fill the silence.

"So," he starts. "Who's Noah?" I'm surprised when a laugh escapes me. The sound is so scarce, like a fruit growing out of season. I haven't laughed enough.

"Seriously? You're jealous?"

"I never said that," Light says quickly, then adds,

"But yes". Laughter rises again and as Light turns onto the highway I'm almost in hysterics. Jealous? Why would he be jealous? There is no reason for it.

Maybe there is.

"You're joking right?" I ask, stifling my giggles.

"I don't joke".

"No". My face falls. "No, of course not".

The choking hum of the engine resumes, as if it stopped precisely to hear our conversation. The word 'conversation' doesn't seem to describe what just happened. Nothing describes this entire situation.

All the laughter drains out of me and I visibly deflate. My life is one big lie, one intrusion after another. It cannot be described.

My own thoughts start to drown me. What did those letters mean? T.C. Were they initials? A company? And why? That was the most pressing question. Why me?

The sun does not resurface, instead choosing to hide in a grey haze. I wish I could hide from my life as easily. Hide from all of this. The bodies in the van, the missing files. Dr. Light. What am I? Who am I? What did I ever do to deserves this? What the hell did I ever do?

I'm so wrapped up in my own mind, I fail to notice Light swerving off the highway. I fail to notice the carboard boxes of the suburbs sinking into snub shells of bungalows crowned with hazy windows which filter out the sunlight. Bouncing in my seat, I look out of the window only to find the road shredding itself into potholes. I bite my tongue. Perhaps he's just taking a shortcut. A little detour. Even though, as I watch the sludge of the clouds shift from white to grey, I know this isn't way home. If that king-sized house of oak and mahogany really is home.

Around us, the streets even out. On one side, a recycling plant – big, lime coloured bulbous buildings – stands attentively. On the other, small greying houses with wooden verandas peek out from behind hanging baskets filled with dirt.

The car slows and Dr. Light guides the car into the belly of the backroads, crammed with trash cans and oil-like bags. He has to pin himself to the dashboard to glimpse around the corners.

My hands grip the sleeves of my jacket and the converse trainers that should belong to someone else bounce in the footwell.

Briefly, Dr. Light catches me staring at him.

"Don't panic," he says.

"It's a little late for that". I clamp a hand over my mouth, scowling at nothing. Alyssa. Hijacking my words. Is there really nothing left that's mine?

"Look". Light gestures to a dip in the row of cramped houses, where the ashen road is cracked and the grass which stretches out of the tarmac is drained of colour. A nearly empty car parks lies opposite us, guarded by dried moss and a dimly yellow height-metre. I shudder. It always unnerves how a pristine suburban neighbourhood can stand next to rubble.

Dr. Light eases the car up the ramp and parks carefully in the centre, across two white lines. His fingers interlace like pale tree roots.

"What's going on?" I ask. It makes me cringe, how small my voice sounds. Dr. Light gestures to the keys in the ignition.

"Starting today, I'm going to teach you how to drive".