His eyes popped open with
his mouth as his air supply was cut off, maybe made worse by my shirt, but at
least the line wasn't cutting into him.
He jerked and struggled,
making the cuts in his hands and feet bleed harder. I slid the knife up into my
shirt, just missing his skin.
My fingers shook as tears
threatened to blind me.
His dark-blue eyes turned
red as I sawed at the plastic line with the small label knife.
I was screaming and
shaking as I sawed, when suddenly Rita was there. She grabbed the line,
stretching it as I cut.
Her fists filled with
blood as she wedged her fingers under the line. Jake’s face was
beet
red, so red I thought it might explode. His eyes bugged
from his head when two of the lines bust, leaving one to go. That one ripped
into Rita’s fingers and mine as I shook the blade in mini saws.
The line was cut,
dropping the weight to the floor, and then sending it smashing through the
ceiling to the floor below. Rita’s hands bled from the slits in them. Jake
coughed and struggled for air as he wheezed and tried to get back to breathing.
It was the scariest sound I’d ever heard.
I looked back at Sage and
screamed, “Get something to cut the ropes and call 9-1-1!”
She stammered and lifted
her phone, turning and running for the stairs as I turned and started sawing at
the ropes holding his feet to the wall. His toes were bruised and bent funny,
likely broken from being at this angle for days. Tears splashed onto my cheeks
as Rita did the same as me, working the ropes on his feet.
It was chaos.
Screaming and bleeding
and wheezing and convulsing all set to the backdrop of the scariest
old-fashioned song I would ever hear again. Forever my mind would be
traumatized by the sound of a lady singing about her love and sunshine and the
promise of a wedding day.
Lady Lainey
The ambulance ride wasn't
what I expected.
I thought Jake would
reach for me and hold my hand. I thought he might acknowledge me in any way at
all.
But he was unconscious,
and they were giving him mouth-to-mouth and pumping his heart for him.
I sat in the corner,
wide-eyed and shocked, waiting for that moment when he gasped again on his own.
You always see it in the
movies. When the one person gives the other mouth-to-mouth and then the
unconscious person wakes and they cough and fight for air.
I discovered in that
moment, in the real world, this is not a thing.
Unconscious people do not
suddenly come back to life, fully animated.
They sit, very still,
moving only when the people screaming and shouting and giving first aid, move
or jostle them.
We reeked of urine and
fear and blood and more fear.
His toes were broken. One
looked pretty bad.
His wrists were torn to
the point that he didn't have skin in a band around them both.
His left shoulder was
dislocated.
But none of that
mattered.
Not if he wasn't going to
breathe
again.
I wanted to touch him.
There was a stupid girl
inside me that believed in true love’s kiss and the magic of Disney. I wanted to
touch him and make him come back to life, and it was all for me.
It was selfish and cruel.
I wanted him to be with
me.
Not once did my mind
whisper that maybe he didn't want to stay here, not even for me. That maybe the
past week had been so hard, he wouldn’t be able to get past it.
No.
I focused on the
possibility that if I kissed him, he might
breathe
again, for me.
When the ambulance
stopped, the doors flung open and doctors and nurses were there.
“Jackson Van der Wall,
age seventeen. EVERYONE IS ON THIS!” a doctor shouted at the crowd of people.
The two paramedics
continued their cycles of mouth-to-mouth and chest pumping into the hospital.
I sat there, shell
shocked and lost. Quite lost.
“Lainey?”
I looked up to see Agent
Ford standing in the doorway. He looked devastated as he reached for me. “Come
on. Come with me.”
Tears started then. I
didn't even have a story for him. How did I tell him that we had withheld
information?
I let him pull me from
the deserted ambulance and drag me into his chest. I buried my face and heaved
into his cheap suit.
He hugged harder than he
should have. He should have been a robot in that monkey suit, but he was a man.
He was a kind man, in that moment.
No matter how hard I
trembled and shook and sobbed, he held tight. When my knees buckled and the
whole realization of what I had seen and what Jake had been through hit, he
lifted me up. He carried me inside.
He walked me right to the
door where Jake was. He sat on the bench and placed me next to him. He stayed
with me, even when my family came.
Maybe because I clung to
him so hard, he couldn't have gotten away if he wanted to.
I stayed very still with
the hallway buzzing and everyone around me moving crazily.
Eventually, my mother
came and sat next to me, placing a hand on my thigh. I flinched away from her
touch, but when I met her gaze I sighed and put her hand back there.
She offered me a
comforting smile but then she said exactly what I expected of her, “Lainey, the
nurses said you could shower in one of the rooms. I brought some clothes and
some makeup.”
She might as well have
been speaking a foreign language with the way I just stared at her, horrified.
She got up and grabbed my
arm, firmly. “You will get up and clean yourself up or you will have to go home
and wait there for word that he is all right.”
I blinked, confused about
the statement. I didn't fight. I let her drag me to the room away from
everyone. She was making her crazy face, which meant I was going to be doing it
either way. I could fight and lose or comply and survive another day.
I sat in the shower as
she stripped my clothes off and turned on the warm water. When it hit me, brown
liquid dripped from my body. It puddled around me and stunk up the shower.
She turned off the water
and scrubbed my hands and feet and hair and then handed me the soap. “Do the
rest, I’ll be waiting outside.” She turned it back on and got out.
I stood on shaky legs and
lifted my hands to clean myself, noting the chips in my nails and scrapes.
Large cuts, serious ones, from the knife.
I forced myself to feel
the pain as the water sprayed down and the soap seeped into them. That was my
price and punishment for leaving Jake behind.
I cleaned everything
three times and climbed out, feeling dirtier.
My mother dried me.
We hadn’t ever done this
song and dance.
When I
was a baby maybe, but I didn't remember that well.
“I’m sorry I made you do
this. But the Van der Walls are the snobbiest of us.”
I lifted my gaze to meet
hers. She tilted her head. “Obviously, behind my family. That’s how I know. I
don't want them snubbing you or discouraging you and Jake from being together.”
I started to laugh. It
was breathy and pathetic.
She smiled. “Don't
patronize me, Lainey. Not tonight. I know you chose him yourself and neither of
you care about the old ways, but trust me when I
say,
the Van der Walls care a lot. They have visions of sugarplums and the
presidency. So do not make them think you are the common little brat we both
know you are. I blame your father’s side of the family.” She winked. “All
joking aside, try to act like I have instilled a few of the old-fashioned
qualities in you.”
“Can I call you Mommy
Dearest when I curtsey?”
“If that makes you a
lady, I don't give a shit.” She finished brushing my hair and nodded at the clothes.
“Throw those on, don't complain.” She hugged me once more, whispering, “I’m so
glad you’re okay.”
I threw my arms around
her neck. We hugged in a way we never did before. We melted into each other,
trembling and scared. But it didn't last long.
When we went back to the
hallway it was far more crowded.
Sage was there. “Jake’s
still in surgery. They've said nothing so far.” She whispered, “His mom and dad
are down in the waiting room. They look pretty upset and yet not. Relieved too,
I guess.”
“Thanks. Where’s Rita?” I
asked, not liking that we were separated. Lindsey was with Vincent; I knew
that. There was no way he would have let her out of his sight. Which meant
Sierra was safe too.
“She’s getting stitches.
Her hands are a mess.”
I turned mine over, nodding.
“Yeah. I bet.”
“Oh Lainey, those are
bad.” My mom sighed and grabbed my wrist. “I didn’t even see those with the
mess that was all over you.” She pulled me down the hall to a desk. “Hi, she
needs stitches.”
The nurse lifted her gaze
to my hands, flinching. “Your friend is in that door with the other doctor. Go
show him your hands.” She looked at my mom. “You and I can handle the
paperwork.”
My mom’s hands shook as
she opened her purse, looking for my medical card. I didn't stay to watch her
fumble for things and eventually breakdown and cry.
I walked through the
door, cringing when I saw the needle going into Rita’s palm. Her face was
turned to mine, but she had her eyes squinted shut and her mouth in a grimace.
She was frozen this way, regardless of the lack of feeling.
I sat next to her, palms
up and offered the doctor a soft smile.
He tried to offer the
same thing back, but it came across more like a sneer. I could see the empathy
in his eyes. He was shocked. This was probably the first time he had entered
our story. He had missed the girl who had been cut and bent. The man who was
bled out and twisted into a strange shape. The boy tied up and tortured. This
young doctor had come in right at the girls who would let fishing line cut them
to stop that boy from dying.
Rita opened one eye and
gave me a look. “Did you see my mom in the hall?”
“No. Did you text them?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “They
didn't respond. Dad was calling an emergency town meeting for the leaders of
the community and business owners. I just thought Mom might come.” Her eyes
focused on mine so intensely I couldn't look away. I knew she was avoiding
looking at the needle sewing her back up.
“My mom’s here. Do you
want me to get her?”
She contemplated being
brave but it didn't last. She nodded and closed her eyes again.
I got up and walked back
to the door. As I had predicted, my mom was sniffling and wiping her eyes as
she finished the paperwork. I walked to her and leaned my head against her arm.
“Rita needs you.”
Mom turned and gave me a
weak and wet smile. “Okay. I called her mom. She was in Manhattan. She’s on her
way back.”
Rita didn't know that.
“Don't tell her. Just say her mom is coming.”
“I will.” She wrapped an
arm around my shoulders and led me back in.
She became someone I
didn't know in that room. She was brave and strong for Rita and me. She stayed
calm and none of this was about her.
For the first time my
mother was not the victim.
Wakey, wakey, little Jakey
The realization it was a
dream and not real was there, but I couldn't stop my feet from moving or the
ragged breath from slipping from my lips. I ran to him, but he wasn't there.
“Lainey,” he whispered
again, calling to me. His ghost—Jake’s ghost—called to me from the
other side. No matter how hard I ran, I couldn't catch him.
“Lainey! Wake up! JEEZE,
WAKE UP!” That whisper was not his. It was Rachel’s.
My eyes opened, blinking
and struggling to stay open. I glanced around, shocked by the sound of Jake’s
and Rachel’s whispers but when my eyes caught sight of him, he was still on his
bed asleep. His machines made soft beeps and everything looked the way it had
before.
He was clean and
stitched, sewed back together and bandaged. They’d taken him off life support,
hoping for the best and somehow, maybe by a miracle, it had worked. He stayed
alive on his own.
His brain function was
normal. Enough oxygen had made it through during the first aid. They said Sage
and Rita and I saved his life, but I was in the ambulance. I saw them pumping
the blood through him. It wasn't me that did that.
I got up and climbed into
the bed with him, laying my head on his chest. His skin was warm again, not
cool like it had been with the poison dart.
I closed my eyes and
realized it was never the walls of his room that made me safe. It was
him
.
Jake in any room made me
safe.
Even coma Jake.
I slept again and all my
dreams were soft and fluffy, the kind I used to have before Rachel died,
changing the wallpaper in my brain.
The sleep was instant and
deep, and when I woke Jake’s mother was in the room. She was sitting in the
armchair I had been
in,
only she was dressed
beautifully as if she were going to church.
Her head was lowered and
her chest rose and fell slowly.
I turned and looked at the
calm face of the boy who had been my pillow all night long. He didn't budge,
stir, or make a sound. He slept peacefully with the subtle beeping going off
rhythmically.
I ran a bandaged hand
along his scruffy cheek. He had close to a full beard. The dark scruff made him
look so much older. Crawling up the bed beside him I tested my theory. I leaned
on the bed and lifted my face, lowering my mouth on his.
The short hairs of his
beard tickled my lips, but I stayed, kissing him and hoping to somehow breathe
a little of my life force into him.
I pressed harder and
harder until I finally gave up.
Slumping back I sighed,
defeated.
“I tried that too.”
I spun to see his mother
stretching her neck. Jake looked like her.
Thick dark hair,
dark-blue eyes, and the best smile.
On her it was beautiful; on him it
was handsome. She didn't look old enough to be his mom.
“I tried kissing him too.
I thought maybe I could will him back to me.” She rolled her eyes. “Stupid
girlish thought.”
I lowered my gaze as I
climbed off the bed. “I wish there was something I could do.”
Her mouth dropped.
“Lainey, you saved him. Tom had him up there for days. A week. They arrested
him today when he got home.”
My brain didn't register
the gratitude. I just heard the accusation. “Tom?”
“The authorities found
Rachel’s cell phone with some of her blood on it and Laurence Henning’s bloody
wallet and car keys.” She lowered her gaze and her voice, “They found some
other unsettling evidence in his office.”
“Oh.” I didn't know if
that was the truth of the matter or not.
“Samantha is devastated.
Obviously. She had no idea.”
Sage’s mom being
devastated was about as far from the list of things I cared about. So I offered
her my smile and nod. Tom was not the killer. I knew that. I didn’t know how or
why, but I did.
“Sage said you girls were
considering canceling the Halloween ball.”
I maintained my composure
but tried to figure out why the sudden
subject change
.
“We just thought that maybe we could all hold off until the Christmas formal.
Try to recover from this.”
She tilted her head and
offered the worst smile, it was the one that my mother gave me when she was
going to patronize me and make me do things she wanted. “My dear girl, the
surefire way to let Tom win at his little game is to change our world around
him. He’ll see the impact he’s had. We can’t allow that. We’re stronger and
braver and far too refined to give into such a weak thought.” She chuckled and
nodded. “Jake would want you to have the party to spite Tom. Don't you see?”
I didn’t. Jake wouldn't
want that. He would want everyone to be okay.
I knew her words made
sense to her, but they were based entirely on the fact Tom was the killer and
that was just too easy. I didn't trust it or believe we should bank our entire
lives upon it.
“There is nothing to
recover from. We are strong emotionally. Something like this experience might
have broken the weak, but that is not who we are. Weakness was bred out of us a
long time ago.” Her eyes did that maniacal sparkling thing. I’d seen that look
before. It was the direct result of brainwashing.
She scared the hell out
of me. She was actually worse than my mom. Now I understood why I wasn't
allowed to be dirty and covered in my maybe-boyfriend’s blood and urine.
Even if it was her son’s.
“Okay, I’ll make sure we
still have the ball.” I hadn’t even planned on going to the stupid thing. Now I
was the chairperson and responsible for it even occurring? Shit.
I reached back and
squeezed Jake’s hand, holding it tightly.
“That's a good girl.” She
stood and looked around, brushing the bottom of her dress. “I’m going to see
about having something brought in. Would you care for a salad or something?”
“Yea—yes, please.”
She offered the fakest of
the fake smiles and left the room.
For the first time since I
realized she was there, I exhaled a slight whisper, “What the fu—”
“You know if you say it,
you won’t ever go back. You’ll say it all the time, and it’ll get easier and
easier.”
I spun, smiling wide at
the dark-blue stare and growled words. “You’re awake.”
I jumped Jake, gripping
and squeezing too tightly.
“Easy, Lain.” His growl
was breathy and weak.
I forced my fingers to
retreat. “Sorry.” I lifted my head and started to cry. “You’re awake.”
He nodded. “I’ve been
awake a couple of times. You were sleeping.”
“Did your mom see you
awake?”
He shook his head. “No
one did. I saw you and knew I was safe so I fell back to sleep.” The dim look
of horror and trauma lingered in his eyes. “I knew you’d find me.”
I shook my head, fighting
the tears and the weakness inside me. “I didn't. I thought I would be too
late.”
“If anyone could find me,
it was you.” He switched back to whispering and not trying to growl at all,
“So, what’s wrong with me?”
“Bruised larynx.
Lacerations on wrists and ankles.
Two broken
toes—you’re very lucky you didn't lose one of them.
Dehydration
and starvation.
Pneumonia.
A broken rib.
And
some other little things like a bladder infection and stuff like that.”
“That's it?” He chuckled
like an old hoarse smoker.
“That's it? You expected
worse than pneumonia and broken bones?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “When
you were strangling me I thought it was some kind of dream. Then I thought I
had died. When I woke here and you were on me, it took a whole minute to
realize the bandages on your hands were from trying to stop the fishing line
from choking me.”
“Rita got it worse. She
almost lost her pinky.”
He winced.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing. You.
Your face.
You were screaming and the line was choking me.”
“Before that?”
He closed his eyes and
shook his head. “I don't know.” His slow dirty grin crept across his still
puffy lips.
“I don't want to know
what you remember. I take it back.”
“I remember us.” He
chuckled but it came out with a wheeze and some coughs.
“Shhhhhh. Don't laugh.
Just stay still.”
“I’m not dying, Lain.
Laughter is good medicine.” He glanced down at his lower half. “You know what
else is good medicine?”
“Ewwww.” I wrinkled my
nose. “Don't even.”
“What? I missed you.” He
cocked a dark eyebrow. “Is everyone else okay?”
“Yeah. We have some new leads
and the police have arrested Tom.”
“Tom?” He looked
confused. “Why Tom?”
“He’s the one who held
you captive. We found you in Sage’s attic.”
He scowled. “No. It
wasn't Tom.” He looked like he was remembering something. “I don't know who it was,
but it wasn't Tom.” He paused. “I can’t remember. There’s something in the way.
Like fog in my head. But there was a voice. One I didn't know. It was a girl,
not a guy.”
“A girl carried you to
Sage’s attic?”
He shrugged. “I don't
know. But the girl’s voice is the only one I remember.
And a
weird smell.
Like cigars.” He relaxed and sighed. “I don't know the
rest. It’ll come back.”
“You really don't recall
Tom there at all?”
He shook his head. “I
think Tom is a giant douche, but he’s not who I remember. No.” He licked his
parched lips.
“Let me fix those.” I
winced seeing how puffy and cracked they were. I dragged out a lip balm from my
pocket and dabbed it lightly on him.
“They probably don't look
very kissable.”
“No.” I laughed and bit
my lip as I massaged the balm into the cracks and dry skin. “I don't think
either of us looks very kissable at this moment.”
“You always look
kissa—”
“Jake!” His mother lost
her stiffness as tears burst from her eyes and she leapt at her son. Somehow I
got included in the embrace so I felt her tremble and shudder as she sobbed
into his neck. “You’re awake!” She squeezed and jumped up, rushing from the
room.
He gave me a look. “What
do you want to bet she’s getting my dad and not the doctor?”
“I don't think your dad
is here.” I laughed. “Neither is mine. They got called to an emergency
meeting.”
He swallowed a lump in
his throat and shrugged. “You’re here. I don't care about anyone else.”
I kissed his cheek
lightly and got off the bed, leaving him to the mercy of his mother. He was
right; his mother hadn’t grabbed the doctors at all. His dad was there. He
rushed into the room, grabbing his son and holding him tightly. The tremble in
his hands was everything he didn't say.
Somehow this was making
our parents better people.
They didn't fight who
they were. They couldn't.
But this was making them
drop the bravado, even if only for a minute. It was long enough for us to see
that they did care for us.