At a quarter past midnight, a series of taps pull me out of my uneasy slumber. Fluttering excitedly outside my window is the Zubat whom I have been feeding since I rescued it from being stepped on by my classmates. The wild bat doesn't seem as interested in my blood tonight as it would be any other time of day.

Concerned, I slip out through the third-storey window and follow the Zubat across the night. The last time this happened, the Zubat had led me to a Bibarel trapped in the latter stage of rot. I had thrown up on the carcass, and the smell of my vomit mixed with the leaked gastric juices ensured nightmares for weeks.

The Zubat brings me to Beach Cave. When Cynthia sees me her face lights up and she smiles, making me instantly forget the consequences that await me if my parents find me outside past curfew.

"Let's go," she says.

"Where?"

"It's a secret."

Her nonchalance makes me worry.

"Won't you be punished for being out so late?" I say.

Again, Cynthia laughs as though I had uttered something outlandish. "It's summer! I usually don't get home until my dad finds me the next day."

Her joy is infectious, overriding my budding anxiety like a balm over a burn. Though she has only recently entered by life, Cynthia already possesses the extraordinary ability to bring out the best in me. She gives me inner strength.

Cynthia brings me to the Vista Lighthouse. The windows are boarded up tightly by wooden planks. Due to lack of revenue, the lighthouse had closed down years ago to preserve the city's electricity cost.

"We can't go in," I say.

"Fences are meant to be crossed," she says defiantly.

"It's dangerous. You can get hurt."

"You can't live if you're scared of every little thing!"

Alas, she barrels through the yellow tape. My cries yielding no response, I reluctantly push past the barricades and stumble after her trail.

Inside the old lighthouse, the absence of light is so complete, the darkness so overwhelming that my heart speeds up in fear. No matter how hard or how far I stare into the dark, I cannot find a single point of light.

Just as my hands begin to tremble, I think about Cynthia. I channel my terror into courage and call her name.

"I'm here!" she yells.

Without wasting a second she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the shadows. At the top of the lighthouse, the ceiling opens to a sky so full of stars that you can reach out and drink a complete constellation.

"It's beautiful," she breathes.

I feel my pulse race. The galaxy is wondrous, yes, but even more so with admirable company.

"Let's stay here for a little bit," she says.

"If you'll have me," I say quietly.

Any consequences for the future have been pushed deep into the recesses of my mind. What matters now is waiting for tomorrow to come with someone whom I am inexorably happy to call my friend.

To pass the time, Cynthia comes up with the idea of dropping random objects off the ledge. She finds a half-empty bottle of Fresh Water and tosses it over the railing.

"Your turn," she says.

When my fingers curl over the can of Lemonade, I feel a sense of tension. When I let it go, I shudder from a distinct chill of liberation.

In the stillness of the night, the sound of dull shattering reverberates. The liquid inside the can spurts out like blood, splattering all around as it rolls into the sea…

I want to drop something heavier. Something that will offer more resistance.

If I lean my body forward, I will fall. Tumbling down. Out of this life. Out of this world. Then my chest seizes up from the shock of what I had just attempted to do.

The wind up here suddenly feels stronger. Or is it just in my imagination?

Much later, I find the can I had dropped. Like another version of me in a different timeline, it is horribly crushed and has made a disgusting mess all around it.