Breaking Free (16 page)

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Authors: S.M. Koz

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Teen & Young Adult, #Contemporary Fiction

BOOK: Breaking Free
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When we reached the Lodge, it was
five-thirty in the morning and still dark outside.  The door was locked.  We pounded and kicked on it until a bleary-eyed person I didn’t recognize emerged.

He must have known who we were, though. 
“What in the hell are you doing here?” he asked, opening the door wider and ushering us inside.

“There was an accident.”

After changing into dry clothes, we relayed what we knew while he made tea in the office.  As soon as we got to the part about Chris’ leg being crushed by a tree, he was on the phone.  In no time, three people were due to the Lodge and a helicopter was on standby for search and rescue at daybreak.

I clung to my cup of
tea as we told him the rest of the story and how we were worried something had happened to JC.  By the time I finished, the crew had arrived and was organizing packs to start their rescue mission from land.

At
six-thirty, both the helicopter and land teams left.  Someone I had never met before stayed with me and Mia in the Lodge, telling us we should get some sleep.  We lay down next to each other in the small bed in the loft, but had a hard time dozing off.  Whenever I was on the verge of sleep, I’d jerk myself into waking up.  That inevitably woke Mia up, too.

“They’ll be okay,” she
’d murmur, patting my shoulder.

Eventually the complete lack of sleep must have caught up with me because when I rolled over and opened my eyes, the storm had passed and the sun was out, shining brightly overhead.  Mia was sitting near t
he window, watching the forest.

“Did they find them yet?”

“No.  They weren’t where we left them.  They must have tried to hike back but got lost.”  She was looking out the window, avoiding eye contact.

“You know something else.”

She slowly turned around to face me.  “They found a bloody knife at the campsite.”

“No, no, no
…” I mumbled, drawing my knees to my chest.

“It could be Chris’ blood.  She was bleeding a lot.  Maybe they tried to cut her pants off or something.

I nod
ded, but didn’t believe her.  I was convinced it had something to do with JC and Bling.  Something bad had happened out there.

Mia joined
me on the bed and wrapped her arms around my back.  I clung to her, scared and nervous.

“Our parents are coming.  They want us to leave.”

Unwinding myself from her grip, I said, “We can’t leave until we know what happens!”

“They said they’ll call.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“You can take it up with Tammy, the director of the program, but she seemed pretty adamant.”

I jumped up from the bed and stormed to the ladder.  As soon as I looked down from the loft, I knew things were as bad as I suspected.  The office had a window into the open room so I could see how it was teeming with people.  Directly below me, EMTs waited, next to stretchers and toolboxes filled with medical stuff.  Through the big window at the back, I could see even more people outside—park rangers, policeman, and ordinary, but frightened-looking people who could be JC, Bling, and Neeky’s parents.

I climbed down the ladder and rushed to the office.  When I opened the door, a woman I didn’t know came to my side.
  She was wearing a nametag that read Tammy.   “How are you feeling, Kelsie?”

“What’s going on?” I ask
ed, ignoring her question.

“We’re still looking for them.”

A radio crackled and then a male voice said, “Update.  We found a men’s hiking boot, size 13 in the river.”

“Location?” a man in the room asked.

The voice gave a series of numbers and then someone else made an X on a large map taped to the wall.

“What’
s the boot look like?” I asked.

The guy glanced at me and then asked the person on the other end of the radio.
As soon as he told us it was gray with orange accents, I fell against the wall.  It was JC’s shoe.

“Kelsie, you can’t be in here,”
Tammy said, laying her arm on my shoulders and leading me out the door.

“It’s JC’s shoe.”

“We’ll find them, don’t worry.”

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

“There’s nothing you can do.  It’s better for you to go home where you can rest and be with family.  We’ll let you know what happens.”

“I’m not leaving!”

Mia and I spent the next two hours sitting in folding chairs outside the office, watching everything that happened through the window and making ourselves even more anxious.  Every time someone sighed or rubbed their eyes, my muscles tensed, expecting the worst.

“What kind of second-class operation is this?”  The high-pitched voice made me groan.  Rotating in my chair, I saw Sheila stalk through the door
in her high heels, casting angry glares at anyone who looked in her direction.  She spotted me and stopped in her tracks.  “At least my daughter isn’t lost, roaming in the forest.  Let’s go, Kelsie.”

“I can’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at me as her lips tightened into a straight line.  “I dropped everything today to spend hours on a plane to retrieve you.  Now let’s go.”

I crossed my arms over my chest.  “I’m not leaving until I know everyone is safe.”

She took a few steps closer to me.  “Your father’s pilot is only available until eight tonight.  We need to leave now.”

“You go without me.  I’ll fly commercial when this is over.”

She placed her hands on her hips and scowled at me.  I scowled back.  There was no way I was leaving.

Just then, the people in the office started scurrying around more than usual.  Mia and I stood as someone exited.  “They found three of them.  They’re boarding the helicopter now.  We have no information on the extent of their injuries, but they are being flown straight to the hospital for treatment.”

“Who’s missing?” I asked.

The person retreated
to the office without answering my question.  I chased after him and barged into the room.  “Who’s missing?!”

Before he could
answer, we heard a helicopter overhead.  I tried to follow everyone else, but Tammy gripped my shoulders, stopping me as soon as we were outside.  “Stay here, Kelsie.”  Mia’s mom had arrived and was keeping her close, too.

“What’s going on?”

The EMTs drove their ambulance next to the helicopter that had landed.

“What’s going on?!”

Sheila, always the nosy bitch, joined the crowd while I was being held back.  The door opened and two men lowered something to the EMTs.  I couldn’t see it because the ambulance was blocking my view.


What’s going on?!”

Sheila returned and Tammy passed
me to her.  “Please call Dr. Sanchez as soon as you get home.  She has recommendations for therapy.”

Sheila nodded and pulled me to my feet.  “Everyone’s been located, now we need to leave.”

“What happened?” I whispered. “Was it JC?”

“Who’s JC?” Sheila asked, leading me towards a black
town car complete with driver.

“Tyrell.”

“A black boy?”

I nod
ded.

Her fingers tightened on my shoulder.  “They found his body in the river.”

“No …”  I stopped walking.

“Let’s go, Kelsie.”

“I need to see him …”

“No, you don’t.”

I broke free from her grip and ran towards the ambulance, but it was already driving away silently.  No sirens.  No speeding.  There was no hope for whoever was in there.

I ran back to the Lodge,
as the tears started to flow.  When I reached the door, everything in me collapsed.  My mind.  My body.  My hope.  I slid to the ground and wiped my face, but there were no more tears.  I was beyond tears.  My whole body was numb.  It was like I had collapsed into a deep, dark abyss where nothing existed or mattered anymore.

“Kelsie
Renee Sullivan, get up right now!” Sheila yelled stomping towards me.

I didn’t even hate her.  I felt absolutely nothing.

“I killed Jenna and JC.”

“What are you talking abou
t?”

If I had stayed with them or moved faster to get help, maybe JC would still be here. 
“What’s wrong with me, Sheila?”  I asked, searching her face for an honest answer.

“Where do I begin?”

My shoulders hunched over and I dropped my arms to the ground.  “You’re right.  You’ve been right all along.  I’m worthless.”

“You’re making a scene, Kelsie.  We can talk about this in the car.”

She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me up, but I resisted.  “Other people do amazing things with their lives.  All I’ve done is kill two people I cared about.”

“Kelsie,” she hissed.  “We’ve got to go!”

“And I don’t even care right now.  Where’s the guilt?  The sadness?  The anger?  I’ve grown accustomed to that, but it’s gone.  There’s nothing.  Why is there nothing now?”

“Because you’re crazy.  Let’s go!”

“That makes me an even worse person.  I should feel something.”

She tried pulling me up a
gain, but I tugged my arm free.

There was a discarded window panel lying against the building.  I curled up my fist and slammed it through
before Sheila could do anything.  My hand got sliced up on the way through and it hurt.  I smiled.  Pain was good.  I needed to feel something.

I broke of
f a fragment of glass and hacked up my arm while Sheila stared at me with fear or maybe confusion. The first cut was like heaven—the rush I was used to and an intense pain that reminded me I could still feel something.  The problem was each one after that hurt less and less.  After only five gashes, my arm was numb.

“No!” I screamed, throwing down my piece of glass and grabbing a larger one.  I made lon
ger and deeper cuts, much deeper than I had ever done, trying to bring back the sensation, but it was gone.

“Kelsie, stop!” Tammy said, rushing outside.  One of the onlookers must have told her what was happening.  “Why di
d you let her do this?” she asked Sheila, pulling the glass from my hand.  Someone else joined us with a first-aid kit, but the blood was too much for the small gauze pads it contained.

Sheila was completely still and silent.  Her
terror-stricken expression was the last thing I remember.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2
6:  August 25

 

 


What happened next?” Marta
asks, moving close to me on the couch.

I wipe the tears that
spilled as I remembered that day.  I can’t believe I never saw or talked to JC again.  My chest tightens and I wonder whether I’d do the same thing now if I weren’t on all the drugs.

Taking a deep breath, I say,
“I must have passed out.  The next thing I knew, I was in a padded room at the hospital.  You know, the room for crazy people.”

“Do you think you’re crazy?” she asks,
tilting her head as if she’s studying me.

I pause and consider her question carefully.  No one, not even my
shrink, has asked me that question.  I suppose everyone around me thought I was crazy.  Plus, you probably have to be kind of crazy to hurt yourself on purpose.  The problem is I don’t feel crazy.  But do crazy people know they’re crazy?

“I
don’t know,” I finally answer.

“Were you trying to kill yourself?”

I pause again because no one has mentioned this topic either, although I know it’s the whole reason Marta is here.  I try to place my feelings right before I broke the window, but it’s hard because I wasn’t feeling anything.  That was the reason I did it.  I know I wasn’t thinking straight, but the thought of dying never crossed my mind.

“I—I don’t think so.  Not intentionally.”

“I don’t think so, either,” Marta agrees, giving my leg a pat.  “What were you trying to do?”

I tug on a thread hanging from the seam of my jeans and try to come up with words that mig
ht make sense.  It’s harder than I expect, but I eventually decide on “Break free …”

“Free from what?”

“The nothingness … My body … My mind … Who I was … The world … I don’t know.”

“Did it work?”

“No.  When I woke up, I was still me with my same problems and still no feelings, although I think that was due to the drugs they started pumping into me.”


What happened then?”

With a shrug, I say, “Not much.  I was a little nervous
being in that room, but it was like I was detached from my feelings.  Like I am now.  I know I should feel a certain way, but I can’t make my body obey unless a really strong emotion takes hold.”

“How long were you there?’

“A week.  On suicide watch, I think.”

“Did you talk to anyone?”

“Shrinks.”

“Sheila?”

I shake my head.

“Your dad?”

“No.  I don’t think he even knows I was there.  Sheila likes to keep certain things from him.  Like anything that makes her look bad.  I think watching your stepdaughter go all Krueger on herself qualifies as bad mothering.”

Marta smiles.  “Yes, I suppose it does.”

She stands and puts her knitting materials back in the bag.  Then she collects her crossword puzzle from the kitchen island and faces me again.  “I have to run a few errands.  Would you like to come with me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Kelsie.  You decide who you want to be, what you want to do, what your future will look like.  Nobody else.”


I want Jenna and JC back.”

“That’s not about you.  What do
you
want for
yourself
?”

I shrug.

“Would you like an idea?”

I shrug again.

“How about forgiving yourself?”

“That’ll never happen.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

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