Breaking Free (4 page)

I turn
ed on my heel ready to make the second trip, but caught myself.  I decided to get my backpack—that would make carrying the containers a little easier at least.  When I came out of my tent, I glared at Chris.  She smiled.  The smile was different though, it wasn’t that fake smile indicating impending doom.  It was a familiar smile, like how my dad smiled when I won the third-grade spelling bee.  Back when things were good.  I didn’t want to see that smile on her.  She couldn’t look at me like that.  She was a terrible, controlling, demanding person.  I refused to let her remind me of what my life once was.

The backpack definitely made
it easier, but after seven trips, I was exhausted.  My sore muscles were screaming for me to stop, the blister on the bottom of my foot was bleeding through the sock.  I trudged ahead, thinking only about putting one foot in front of the other like I did the day before. 
Left
,
right
,
left
.  Then, without warning, my rhythm was broken on the steep section when the branch I was holding onto suddenly snapped.  I went flying backwards.  I tried to catch myself, but the combination of the weighted backpack and speed at which I was falling made it impossible.  I ended up rolling head over heel all the way back to the waterline.

When I finally stop
ped, I was completely disoriented.  I didn’t know which way was up.  I lay at the edge of the river for a few minutes to catch my breath and assess the damage.  There was definitely new pain.  My left knee and face seemed to be the worst.  I touched my face—it was warm and sticky.  I pulled my hand away and saw that it was covered in blood.  I wiped it on my shirt and reached down to my knee, only to find more blood.  The funny thing was, even with the new injures, my biggest concern was that I rolled down the damn hill.  That meant I needed to walk back up the steep part I had already climbed.  I truly hated my life right then.

Once my head cleared,
I was able to stand again.  I put one foot in front of the other and slowly managed to make it back to the campsite.  I took the pack off, pulled out the water container, and threw it at Chris’s feet.

She looked
at my face.  “Problems?”

“No.”

“Let me take a look at you,” she said reaching for me.

I push
ed her away.  “I said I’m fine.”

“Yes
, but you might need stitches,” she said, reaching up to my face with the edge of her shirt.  She wiped the excess blood away, examined the cut, and then poured a little water over it.  She did the same with my knee and then reached into a first-aid kit and pulled out antibiotic ointment and two Band-Aids.  After applying them to the cuts, she agreed I’d be fine and told me to finish up the last four water containers so we could have a good dinner.  I looked to the group.  They were lounging around the fire doing absolutely nothing.

Then, Bling
said, “It’s five.  We be starving.  Move it, girl!”

I
glanced at each of them, other than Neeky who wasn’t there.  Mia looked to the ground as soon as our eyes met.  Juicehead held my gaze.  His face seemed different, kind of contorted like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem or something. Tears welled up in my eyes—I was exhausted and they all still hated me.  I wasn’t sure what I actually proved by spending hours hauling water.

I thre
w my pack on in disgust and headed back down to the river.  When I was filling up the containers, I heard rustling in the weeds along the shore.  My heart skipped a beat.  I thought it might be a wild animal drawn to all the blood along the trail.  I moved out farther in the water hoping it wouldn’t follow me there.

“Do you really need to get into waist
-deep water to fill those up?”

Juicehea
d cleared the weeds and was smiling at me.

“I thought you were a mountain lion coming to kill me.”

“Is hiding in the water an effective deterrent for mountain lions?”

“I think it’s the best one I’ve got.”

He placed three more containers on a rock jutting into the river.  “Fill these up while you’re at it.”

I push
ed the now full container towards the shore and then waded over to the three he left.  “Did Chris send you down here?”

“No
.”

“What are you doing then?”

“You looked pitiful back there.  I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for pitiful little creatures.  Plus, I’m getting really hungry.”

I push
ed another container to shore. “Well, Bling will be happy that you’re helping.”

“
Bling?!  Have you shared that name with him?” he asked with a laugh.

I roll
ed my eyes.  “I don’t really plan on having many conversations with him.  He scares me.”

“Did you
make up names for everyone?”

“Yes
.”

“What’s mine?”

“Juicehead or Casanova, depending on my mood.”

He frowned
.  “Maybe not all of your assessments are correct.”

“Y
ou’re not a juicehead or you’re not a Casanova?”

“I’m
definitely a Casanova,” he said with a crooked grin.  “But I’m not a juicehead.”

I walk
ed with the third container up to the shore.  He reached over and easily pulled it out.

“So all those muscles come naturally?”

“I have good genes.”

He loaded
one container into my pack and two into his.  He then picked up the last container and carried it with one hand.

“W
hat are the other names?”

“Neeky and Mia
.”

“You’re going to have to
explain those,” he said offering me his free hand.  I grabbed it and he pulled me up the steepest part of the hill.

“Neeky for nerdy gee
k and Mia clearly has bulimia.”

“
What’s your name?”

“
Kelsie.”

“No
, no, no.  If we all get names based on first impressions, you need one, too.”

I shrug
ged my shoulders, dismissing his words.

After a few moment
s, he said, “Malibu Krueger.”

I shook
my head in disgust and looked away.

He continued
, “It’s perfect.  You’ve got that Malibu Barbie look with your blond hair, long legs, and dark tan, but clearly you have a dark, destructive side.”

I involuntarily reach
ed for the silver bracelet on my wrist to make sure it was still there.  He noticed.  “I don’t know who you’re trying to fool with that bracelet—it doesn’t hide a thing.”

We walk
ed in silence for a few minutes.

“I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll just call you Mal, if you call me
JC instead of Juicehead or Casanova.”

“Fine. 
Did Chris say anything when you started walking down here?”

“She told me not to do it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“That means you’ll get grunt work tomorrow.”

“Probably.”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “I actually welcome a little grunt work.  I could use some manual labor.  It’s killing me not being able to go to the gym.  Running hills with water containers will be a perfect workout.”

“Do you actually want to be here
?” I blurted out.  I had hoped to broach the subject a little more tactfully, but the previous two days had stripped me of all tact.

“I
have no choice.  I might as well make the best of it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be home with your
family?”

“
Of course.  But that’s not an option.”

“Why not?”

“Long story.  Let’s get this water back.”

I sighed.  It looked like my plan to get kicked out would have to be seduction since I doubted he’d agree to it otherwise.

After
we delivered our load to Chris, I sat on a rock near the fire and inspected my foot.

“
Nice work,” she said to me.

I ignore
d her and started to pull off my wet, muddy sock.  I held my breath when I got to the part where it was stuck to the blister, but it didn’t tug at the skin at all.  In fact, the sock slipped right off.  Apparently all that time in the river actually helped matters.  I cleaned it with a little fresh water and then contemplated what to do about footwear.

“Let me see your
blisters.”

I look
ed up and saw Chris walking towards me with the first-aid kit.

I want
ed to tell her to leave me alone, but my foot ached and I was too tired to complain.  I put my leg up on a rock and watched Neeky stumble out of his tent.  Chris noticed him too, but merely shook her head.  After a few minutes of applying ointments, gauzes, and bandages, my foot actually felt a little better.

“We’ll change the bandage in the
morning,” she said.  “Until then, keep a clean sock on top.”

I walk
ed to my tent to get a new sock, but a commotion behind me caused me to pause.

Chris
was calmly talking to Neeky, but he was yelling back at her with slurred speech.

“Where did you get the alcohol?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, collapsing against a tree.

“The alcohol
you just drank.”  She turned on her heel and marched to his tent, where she barged in without asking permission.

“Search all you
want.  You won’t find anything,” he slurred before dropping to the ground.

That’s when I realized why
Neeky was there.  Had I known his problem earlier, I would have picked a better nickname, maybe Lush, but it was too late, especially since I had already shared the names with JC.

A few minutes later,
Chris exited Neeky’s tent with an armful of bottles. They looked like shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and mouthwash, which made me think he was much sneakier than me.  It never even occurred to me to try and conceal a few blades.

The bottles
went into the locked metal container and then Chris worked with Mia to start dinner.  Once Mia had things under control, Chris stepped just beyond the group and whispered something to Jason.  I couldn’t make out all her words, but it sounded like they were going to get permission to do a more thorough search.  I felt like I should warn him, but then changed my mind when I remembered how he had called me weak earlier in the day.

The rest of the evening wa
s uneventful.  Dinner was okay, but Mia definitely needed more lessons from Chris.  As a surprise, Chris brought out marshmallows for dessert, which was probably a mistake.  Mia must have eaten half the bag and then she disappeared.  We didn’t notice until she, red-faced and crying, was led from the woods to her tent by Chris.  I imagined some wild animals were going to enjoy half-digested marshmallows that night.

We were pathetic
.  All of us.  I was a little sad I wouldn’t be around to see what Bling eventually did when he finally melted down.  That ought to be epic.  I also couldn’t imagine why Chris would want to be part of this month after month.  Why she would willingly submit herself to such torture was beyond me.

I
stretched out my legs and thought about my plan again.   Part of me felt a little guilty.  JC didn’t want to leave.  By doing this, I’d force him to leave, too.  Despite his rude comments, he’d done nothing but help me since the trip started.  Could I really do that to him?  I continued going through the pros and cons in my head when I saw him walk to his tent.  That was my chance.  Chris was in Mia’s tent with her, which was right next to JC’s.  I could go in there, seduce him, make sure we were nice and loud, and then Chris would come over to break things up.

I had t
o make a decision right then.  Could I do it?

Chapter
5:  August 24

I stop my recollection
because I want to see what JC had to say about the events of that night first.  He told me something right before I left his tent, but neither of us ever mentioned it again.  The timing never seemed right and it would have been awkward.  Plus, to this day, I don’t know if he meant it or if he was simply trying to help me.  Well, I know he was trying to help me because that seemed to be his MO, but I don’t know if he also truly meant it.  I doubt he could have.  We had only known each other two days at that point.

I open up h
is journal and continue reading his words.

Day 3:  Just when I thought Mal might be coming around on the concept of wilderness therapy, she goes and surprises me yet again.  I’m beginning to wonder if there’s no limit to the level she’ll stoop to in an attempt to get her way.  Not that I’m complaining about what happened last night.  When I said Mal was hot earlier, that was an understatement, especially when she’s not fully clothed.  Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that she was just using me to return to her “perfect” life that can’t be all that perfect if she chooses to cut.  She obviously has friends and money, probably a boyfriend, so I wonder what her issues are.  I doubt she’ll ever tell me because as soon as I bring up the topic, she completely shuts down.  I suppose that’s Chris’s job anyway, not mine.

Speaking of Chris, when she reviewed my journal yesterday, she said I need to write more about myself and what I’m going through.  Well, here goes…  I’m angry.  Angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.  I can’t believe the events of that one day have changed everything.  Jalen’s gone.  There’s nothing I can do to fix that.  I tried and it provided a fleeting sense of revenge that didn’t last.  I want more.  My mama and lawyer know that, which is one reason I won’t be returning home.  Not only did Jalen’s life end that day, mine, for all practical purposes, did as well.  Everything I know will be gone.  I’ll have to start over in a new place.  That makes me angry as hell.

“He sure hid his anger well,” I mumble, closing the journal and turning around to face Marta who is still seated at the kitchen island.

“What’s that, se
ñorita?”

“How is it that everyone within a half-mile radius knew I was angry, but I had no clue JC was after two full days with him?”

“Some people keep their emotions inside for a while, but it never lasts.  It will come out when least expected,” she says like an old sage.  Or my shrink.  “It’s lunchtime.  Would you like a sandwich?”

Nodding, I stand up and stretch my arms over my head.
  I wander to the island and watch while Marta prepares lunch for both of us.  The whole time, my fingers draw circles on the granite counter.

“Why was he angry?”
she asks, piling lettuce on top of turkey slices.

“Jalen died.”

“Who’s Jalen?”

“His little brother,” I reply absently.
  Marta shakes her head and mutters something in Spanish that sounds like, “Qué triste.”

What I don’t understand is the part about him having to move. 
I continue my finger circling and try to remember if there were any clues I missed at the time.  I start with the night I seduced him as that was the first time we opened up to each other.