Jayne Doe (15 page)

Casey grabs the bat. The neighbors are watching through windows. Several have called the police. Casey stands up and kicks Johnny in the side. Johnny lies there and takes it. Then Casey raises the bat over his head.

“No, Casey. You can't save Jayne if you're locked up.”

The creatures rip free from Johnny and attack Casey, attracted to his violence, his power. He turns his head, trying to get rid of the invasive feeling. They want to take him, make him evil. Make him commit a cold-blooded murder. He fights them off though they crawl all over his body like a million little spiders.

He steadies the bat in his hands.

Johnny stares into his face, sheer terror etched in his skin.

Please, no. Please, no.
I scrunch my face.

The bat shatters against the pavement. I crack open my eyes.

“You're not worth it.” Casey clutches a shard of bat in his hands. “You hear me? You're not worth it.” He chucks the broken piece of wood as far as he can toward the tree line.

“So, that's it? You get all worked up and can't finish the job?” Johnny presses a hand against the swollen skin around his eye. “I take that shit from a bitch if she won't give it up. I get the job done.”

Something in the back of Casey’s mind snaps. “You sick bastard.” He spits on the ground. “Hit me.”

Johnny springs to his feet and runs at Casey, landing a punch square to his jaw.

“Is that all you've got? It's no wonder you fight with girls.” Casey sticks out his chin. “Hit me again.”

Johnny hesitates and reaches in his pocket. I stare at the shining metal tip of a pocketknife.

“Get in the car, Casey.” I pound my fists on the glass, but it goes ignored.

The two stand and stare at each other. Casey anticipates Johnny's every move. Johnny lurches forward. Casey dodges the sharp blade.

He doesn't realize Johnny will do it. Casey doesn't know the psycho’s intentions.

Johnny lunges again and Casey spins in a roundhouse kick, connecting with Johnny's arm.

Don’t you get it? Don’t mess with a kid from the trailer park. We’re born tough. We’re born to survive.

The loser can't beat Casey. He drops his hands to his sides. “Look, man. I'm sorry. I'll turn myself in.”

“You think I'm going to buy that?”

Johnny's eyes settle into icy resolve. He pulls up his sleeve and slashes his own arm.

Are you crazy?

Casey’s eyes bulge at Johnny’s bloody site. “Dude, you're messed up. You need help.”

“No, you do. When I tell the police you stabbed me.”

Casey jerks back and glances around at neighboring windows. Checking for witnesses.

Watch out.
I scream as Johnny slams the blade into Casey's forearm. Casey lets out an agonizing groan and pulls out the blade, dropping it to the pavement near his feet.

Johnny freezes. Then tries to bolt.

Casey hooks his good hand into Johnny's collar, stopping him. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, curling a muscular hand around Johnny's throat.

Johnny pulls away. “Get your hands off me, you freak.”

“If I ever see you near Jayne again, the ball bat won't miss.”

Johnny coughs deep in his throat and spits a sick mess across Casey's nose and cheek.

Without thinking, Casey lands a solid left hook to the side of Johnny's head.

Johnny drops.

Sirens begin to pierce the quiet afternoon. I follow Casey into the car and we head out. I sense Johnny won't say anything; he's too embarrassed.

I suddenly hear Jayne’s voice.
Jill, where are you?

The idea of me being the reason she leaves her body is unsettling. Within seconds, I'm next to her breathing in sanitizer and stale cafeteria food. Why there's food in her room, I don't know. She can't eat anything. She hooked up to an IV drip.

A short, pudgy nurse with a round face enters and she's fuming. The hospital's Board of Directors wants Jayne discharged as soon as possible because we're poor and don't have insurance. But this nurse has been sneaking into Jayne's room to check on her. She can't stand that a young girl is completely alone. She wonders where her family is, why no one has come to see her.

She swabs Jayne's mouth with water, horrified at her bruises.

Jill?
Jayne senses I’m near.

I'm here.
I approach her frail figure.

I can't see you.

I'm right next to you holding your hand.
I stroke her dry skin.

Why can't I see you?

It's not time yet.

I don't understand.

The nurse checks Jayne's temperature and listens to her heartbeat.

Jill, I feel funny.

You're in the hospital.

Where's Mom? Is she okay? Billy and Martha
—

Everyone is fine. But can you tell me what happened?

I'm not sure.

Did Johnny hit you?

Her entire body tenses.
It’s not what you think.

Jayne, Billy pisses off Martha but she doesn't beat the hell out of him with a baseball bat.

You don't understand; you're too young.

I let out a disgusted breath and step away from her.

I'm sorry.
Her voice breaks.
I just feel so alone now.

I run my fingers through her hair, careful not to touch the swollen lumps of flesh.
I've been with you the whole time.

I miss you.

I know.
Voices in the hall snap me to attention. The nurse is outside with someone. She doesn't want
him
around Jayne. But I can't tell if it's Casey or Johnny.
Jayne, we don't have much time. I need you to listen.

Don't leave me.

Never. But you can't come with me just yet. Casey.

Casey?

He loves you, Jayne. He's loved you since seventh grade. He rebuilt an entire house with you in mind. We saw it, don't you remember? I need you to be strong. Casey knows about the baby and he loves you anyway. I need you to leave Johnny.

She falls silent and her heart stops. The monitor beeps, then it resumes.

I can't.
Her voice is hoarse, like she's fighting an internal battle. She's afraid of Johnny. Afraid that he'll hurt Mom or Martha or Billy. Or Casey. Johnny hates the way Casey looks at Jayne.

Please, Jayne. Be brave. Trust that things will work out.

I'm not like you. You always did things your way. You had courage. Something I’ve never had.

I was stubborn.

No, you were an adult trapped in a little girl’s body. You took care of yourself.
Her words sink in and I realize I've known it all along. It's the reason death doesn't bother me like it should. I quickly contemplate the best way of getting through to her.

Jayne, now it's your turn. You're going to be an adult. You need to get in touch with Billy's friend, the one that owns the gun shop on 25
^th
Street.

But—

Just do it.

Nineteen

A bell hangs in the doorway and every time someone enters, it rings. A hint of gunpowder floats in the air so thick I can taste it. Billy's friend, Sam, is in the back loading shells and I find him quickly. Sam can barely blink he’s so focused as he taps the sides of a red tube.

The tiny room, which he’s crouched, is lined, floor to ceiling, with boxes of ammo. I'm looking for something simple.
The best bullet to kill a man in one shot?

Sam furrows his brows, confused as to why he just had that thought. He's worked in the gun shop for years and never had thoughts like that.

My heart races as I realize he can hear me and he's open to what I'm saying.

You're going to sell a gun to Billy's sister, the hot one with the long, blond hair. She's going to pull around back and buy it in the alley. Off the books. She has cash. You need to call Billy.

Sam sets down a cleaning brush and grabs a sticky note from a nearby drawer. In careful chicken scratches, he pens 'call Billy' and sticks it to the wall in front of him.

Remember, no registration.

He adds 'outside' to the note.

I suddenly smell fire and it’s not in this building. Smokey, wood-burning, campsite kind of fire. I don’t know why, but the smell makes me worry for Jayne. My heart sinks at the thought of her getting hurt again. Then I’m next to her in the hospital. The room is exactly how I left it.

There’s no smoke. No alarms. Nothing.
I don’t get it?

The door opens and Mom walks in followed by Billy and Martha. She bribed them with Starbucks to get a ride to the hospital to see Jayne. They're both clutching paper cups in their hands. Happy as weasels.

“What the hell happened?” Billy motions to Jayne’s face. For the first time in years, something like emotion creeps into his voice.

“Wow. This is really bad.” Martha stares down at the bruises.

“It totaled Johnny's car,” Mom says, blowing into her own paper cup. She's only half sober, but Johnny's face pops into her mind and I know he lied to her.

“Where’s all the free stuff?” Billy asks, wandering around.

Martha plops down on the only chair in the room. “This isn't a Motel Six. You can't go around stealing the soap, dumbass.”

“I can take the tissues,” Billy says, slipping the box from the counter under his coat.

“Mom, Billy's stealing,” Martha whines.

“Can you two ever quit?” Mom doesn't snap at them like she usually does. Instead, she reaches to Jayne's hand, pulling it into hers and holding it gentle, like it's made of crystal.

Martha grumbles. “How long do we have to stay here?” She moves from the chair and slides to the floor, resting her back against the wall, still sipping on her coffee.

“Until someone can tell me what's going on.”

“Ugh, this is so retarded. It's Saturday.” Martha pouts. I have a sudden urge to kick her in the head, but I restrain myself. She probably wouldn't feel it anyway. “I have a life, Mom.”

“Quiet.” Mom stares down at the purpled, shiny skin on Jayne's face and chest, the distorted marks on her arms from Johnny's hands.

The strange smell of smoke assaults my senses again. Weird.

The curtain pulls back by a male nurse I haven't yet seen. He looks around at my family – Billy's playing games on his cell; Martha's texting on hers; and even Mom has switched on the television and become engulfed in some court show – and the look on his face is one of disgust trumped only by the disgusted look on my own face. He makes his way to Jayne without so much as a word to any of them. Quickly, he wraps a cuff around her arm and takes her vitals. Mom looks away from the television but doesn't ask any of the million questions swimming behind her eyes and he doesn't offer anything before he leaves again.

“Mom.” Martha shrieks. “Our house is on fire!”

“What?” Mom shakes her head. She doesn't really believe Martha. I believe her. That must’ve been the fiery scent I’ve been tortured with for hours.

“Look.” She leaps up from her spot on the floor and bounds over to Mom, shoving her cell in her face.

Mom pushes it back. “I can't see a damn thing,” she complains, taking the cell and holding it a little further from her face. All the wrinkles in her face deepen. “What the hell?” Her heart begins to race. “Billy, get up. We're going.”

Billy stands, but won't peel his eyes from the sexy avatar on his screen. Martha starts balling. The three of them rush out of the room, leaving nothing behind except three empty coffee cups and shreds of tissues Billy scattered on the floor.

Twenty

Jayne's improving. I can see by the color slowly returning to her cheeks, the discolored bruises are starting to fade. But that won’t take the pain away when she wakes. That’s when she’s in for a world of hurt.

The same male nurse comes back and shuts off the television Mom left on. He feels Jayne's forehead, and takes her temperature. It's perfect.

I know that hours have passed and the sun is about to set, but I can't stop thinking about our house and how bad the damage is and Jayne waking up from all of this just in time to realize that her life has fallen apart and she doesn't even have a house to return to. If she ever comes home. My stomach rolls at the thought of her staying with Johnny. I hope she's strong enough to stay away from him, but part of me worries that she isn't.

Footsteps on the linoleum outside alert me that someone is coming and I shift closer to Jayne, not wanting to lose a second. The door opens and the newcomer pulls back the privacy curtain. Bright pink balloons and a bouquet of flowers shield the stranger.

The pink display moves closer and I realize it’s Casey with a pile of gifts in his arms. He gently places them on the counter before he moves to Jayne. I step out of his way. Something in his eyes tells me that he needs a moment with her and I don't want to interfere – even if he can't actually see or hear me.

He lifts her hand in his and kisses the back of it.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes, staring down at her thin, fragile body. “I should've taken you with me.”

She doesn't move. And though he didn't expect her to, he wanted it. So badly.

“I don't understand.” His voice cracks and he sucks in a deep breath. “Why do you let him do this to you?” He's angry and sad, but happy to be alone with her. I take a few more steps back.

“I brought you some things,” he says to her, nodding toward the bunch of balloons and vase of pink roses. “I hope you like pink.”

She loves pink,
I assure him.
Especially now.

The curtain whips open and a female nurse stops short, shocked to see someone's still here. “Visiting hours are over,” she says, but her voice is pleasant and the anguish in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know.