Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I wanted to fight and scream and laugh and smile and kiss
and taste and wrap my arms around him more than I could
stomach never feeling him again.
I closed my eyes, starting to spin as Lana Del Rey’s “Dark
Paradise” drifted out of the ballroom through the open
window, and I swept my leg, arched my back, and shot up on
the ball of my foot, dancing and twirling as the music filled me
up and took me over. My arms sliced through the water,
splashing and whipping the spray, and I danced and danced
and danced, running my hand over my stomach, my drenched
hair flying around me and sticking to my face and body.
To dive and fall.
To have a lifetime of searching for something.
Or to have five minutes of everything.
I slowed as the music ended and stopped, the chill of the
water seeping into my bones, but I felt awake for the first time
in years. I was alive.
I wanted it. I wanted it all.
I pushed my hair out of my face and over the top of my
head, breathing in so deep, because my lungs felt so much
bigger all of a sudden.
“Winter?” someone called.
Crane.
I walked across the fountain maze, smiling through the
towers of water and smoothing back my hair as I made my
way to the edge, following his voice.
“Where is he?” I asked.
Crane was silent a moment, and then said, “Occupied at
the moment. Would you like me to give him a message?”
Occupied.
Okay. If he wanted to play, let him come find me then.
I was ready.