Tim and Sara

“My cat was spying on me,” Sara says. She sits on my bed, chin resting on her knees and skinny arms wrapped around her legs. “Before I realized that, I talked to myself all the time. They thought it was an easy way to stay one step ahead of me.”

I lie spread-eagled on the floor, watching her watch me. Her too-big hazel eyes peer out of a bony freckled face framed by choppy mousy hair. I nod.

“It was completely unfair,” she continues. “How was I supposed to fight back or even stay afloat if they were cheating like that? They set me up to fail, is what they did. If I told anyone their plans I’d come across as crazy. But the terms were I only have until I’m twenty-five so I knew I had to do something.”

Sara had done something, alright. She’d set her house on fire, with the cat inside. The firefighters apparently had found her dancing nonchalantly on the lawn, bare naked. Her cat was also found, unharmed.

“I have a plan, Tim,” she tells me. Sara is my best friend, here at Kirkbride. I don’t know why she latched on to me; there were plenty of other people who were more interesting, more attractive, more or less insane. But for whatever reason, here we are in my room, discussing her cat again. And now her plan too.

“It’s simple, really. I have until I’m twenty-five to find my purpose. But I can’t do it from in here. So we…