A Debt Repaid

by Wild, Clarissa

  Untouched.

  Perfect.

  Unlike me.

  * * *

  Twelve Years Ago

  I pick up two rocks and stuff one into Suzie’s hand. “You go first.”

  “No. Why do I have to go first? You know I’m not good at this,” she whines, putting out a pouty lip. “Why can’t we just do it my way?”

  “Because we already did that yesterday. Now, we do it my way,” I say, frowning. “Now c’mon. Throw it.”

  She sighs, so I rub her back. “You can do this. Just throw it like this.” I bend my arm and chuck the stone at the pond, and it skips across the water like a bug until it sinks.

  “Wow, that’s far!” Suzie yells, her face full of amazement. “But wait ... I was supposed to go first, right?”

  I shrug. “We weren’t playing for real yet. But now we are. C’mon. Throw the stone.”

  Her face lifts with a smile. “Okay, I’ll try.”

  I nod a few times, which only makes her smile bigger. I cheer her on. “Go!”

  She aims and then throws as hard as she can, but the stone immediately sinks to the bottom just a few feet from where we stand.

  “Aw …” she mumbles with chagrin.

  I clap my hands. “My turn.”

  I snatch another stone from the ground and do it just as I did before, and it pitter-patters across the water farther than Suzie’s stone did.

  She puts her hands on her side. “Fine, you won.”

  “Yay!” I jump up and down. “I get to be the princess now.”

  “But we do it my way tomorrow,” she says, grimacing. “Rock, paper, scissors.”

  “But that’s just boring,” I reply.

  “No, it’s not!” she quips. “I do it all the time with Bobby. He says it’s much better too.”

  “I don’t care about Bobby. Bobby’s a boy; I’m your sister. Big difference.”

  “So?”

  “So I get to say what’s much better. And this is much better.” I pick up another rock and hold it out to her. “If you want to get better, I can teach you.”

  “Really?” she asks, taking it and tucking it into her pocket.

  “Yeah, of course. That’s what sisters are for, right?” I grin, and she hugs me. “All right. Now, let’s play,” I say, wrenching away from her arms.

  As I run for the tree, Suzie chases after me, and I glance over my shoulder and giggle. “You won’t catch me!”

  “Yes, I will!”

  “No!” I pat the tree just before she does. “I win!”

  “Fine,” she snaps as I climb up the shoddy ladder to the makeshift treehouse. It’s just a bunch of wooden planks stuffed between the trunk and some curtains hanging from the branches, but it’s my house now.

  “Here!” I say as I pick up the clothes I brought here from home and throw them down to her. “Put this on!”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the prince, of course,” I say with a cocky face. “Why else?”

  She rolls her eyes but does it anyway while I put on the pink dress I brought. Mom doesn’t exactly know I took them from the dress-up box, but she won’t notice. I’ll bring them home without a scratch, and if they have smudges, I’ll wash them out myself. I’m a big girl.

  I pat down my dress and twirl. It looks so pretty.

  “Ready yet?” I yell down as I wait for my prince to come rescue me.

  Except when I peer over the edge of the treehouse, no one’s there.

  Suzie’s gone.

  “Suzie?” I yell.

  It’s quiet. Too quiet.

  I wonder where she went.

  I step to the other side of the treehouse and look down there. She’s standing near the road just a few steps away from the trees … and she’s talking with a man.

  A man I’ve never seen before.

  A tall … no, a big guy with a beard and scary looking scars. His face is dark as he speaks to my sister.

  I wonder what they’re saying. I think it’s something I should hear too.

  I try to listen to their conversation from where I’m at up high, but I can barely hear anything. Except for a couple of words …

  “Will you be my friend?” the stranger asks.

  “Sure,” Suzie says.

  She keeps talking to him even though Mommy told us not to talk to strangers. Did she forget? Or doesn’t she care? Either way, I’m worried, so I start climbing down the ladder.

  “Ella?” It’s Suzie, and she sounds like she’s in trouble.

  “Who is that?” I yell, but she doesn’t respond, and I can’t see her anymore as the trees block my view.

  But I can clearly hear her scream.

  * * *

  I immediately jump down the last few steps and run to her. The man has grabbed her hand and is dragging her to a car.

  “Ella!” she screams as he pushes her inside and closes the door.

  “No!” I scream, my lungs barely able to handle the force of my voice.

  The man gets into the car, and before I can get to her, he drives off.

  Within a second, I’ve grabbed my bike and jumped on it to race after them. I don’t care that I’m wearing a pink dress or that I’m crying my eyes out. I have to get to her. I promised Mom I’d look after her. I promised Mom I’d take her back home. I have to.

  I have to bring Ella home.

  The car’s right in front of me, but I can’t seem to catch up, no matter how hard I push the pedals of my bike. I’m out of breath, out of energy, but I won’t give up. However, the longer it takes, the more I’m left behind.

  I can’t keep up.

  The car disappears, but I keep going. Keep biking. I’ll go on forever if I have to. Because I have to get her back. I’ll get Suzie back. No matter the cost.

  It’s almost sundown, and I’m supposed to be home by now, but I can’t go back. Not without my sister. My mom would kill me. I promised. I promised.

  Tears run down my cheeks as I follow the only road the car could’ve gone.

  And then out of nowhere, it appears.

  My heart skips a beat, and a hopeful burst of energy makes me bike harder to get to the car. Parked on the side of the road, it’s near the forest my mom told me not to go near because it was way too big and we could get lost.

  But getting my sister back is more important than rules.

  So I dump the bike between the fallen leaves on the ground and make a run for it. Through the woods, I follow the trail. Tracks in the earth and leaves show me where they went. It can’t be far.

  The salty tears on my face have dried up, and determination has taken their place. I keep going and going without knowing where I am, but as long as I find Suzie, I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.

  Thick branches push me back, but I don’t stop wading through the darkness of the forest. I don’t stop for anything. Not for the pain I feel in my legs. Not for the monsters that could lurk in the dark.

  Except for a cliff … right in front of my feet.

  I barely manage to stop in time before I fall.

  That’s when I see it.

  A body lying down there on the cold, muddy ground. Hair tangled with twigs, face bloodied and twisted.

  It’s Suzie.

  I scream, but the sound disappears into a sea of trees echoing my voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A voice makes me turn my head toward the direction its coming from, just behind a tree not far from Suzie.

  “I only wanted someone to talk to,” he adds.

  It’s him. The man who took Suzie.

  He quickly turns and runs, disappearing into the forest.

  Without thinking, I slide down the slope of the cliff, careful not to fall as I rush to her. I wrap my arms around her and shake her, but she doesn’t respond.

  “Suzie?” I call out her name maybe three, four … fifteen times.

  Nothing I say or do reaches her.

  No matter how many times I push her, how many tears roll down my chee
ks, how many times I scream—nothing will bring her back.

  The more I cry, the less my voice is heard. And even though I try, the sound of my voice keeps fading until nothing’s left.

  Nothing.

  Suzie’s gone and so has my voice.

  She screamed my name, and I didn’t get to her in time. She lost her voice because I refused to use mine. And now it’s all gone.

  She’s gone.

  But I promised Mommy … I promised.

  And now I’ll never bring her back home.

  Chapter 28

  Ella

  Present

  When I’ve gathered enough flowers, I stroll through the streets until I get to the cemetery. I open the iron-clad fence, its loud squeak a stark difference from the silence up ahead. As I walk along the pebble path, I notice I’m not alone, but that’s okay. Everyone here has lost someone dear to them, and not a single soul would dare to say they don’t miss them.

  I do too.

  I place my hand on top of the cold stone in front of the grave and say a prayer. Sometimes, I even talk to her in my head.

  I brought you these flowers.

  I place them on the grave.

  I know you always loved to steal them from the park, so I thought I’d pick them for you instead of buying a bouquet. Are you okay here? Do they treat you well in the afterlife? I hope you don’t miss me too much. I promise I won’t be long. But I won’t come until it’s my time. I know you’d want me to enjoy the life I have here. It’s just hard, you know? Of course, you know … you lived it.

  I sigh and bite my lip.

  Twelve long years. And still, nothing has changed.

  The world still revolves around the sun. People live their lives, oblivious to the pain of others. And me? I’m still stuck in that same memory … still unable to move on.

  I turn around and make my way out of the cemetery, determined not to stick around for too long or else I might even spend the day. I have to get this out of my head. Have to find my happy place again.

  Turning the corner, I start across the bridge over the river and stop in the middle. I grab my loaf of bread and pull off a few pieces, chucking them into the water. The ducks and seagulls quickly gather to gobble them down, fighting over every last bit as if it’s the only food they’ve gotten in a week. Except they’re as fat as can be, so that can’t be it. They’re so used to people that they practically follow me around just to get more of that bread, and it makes me giggle. Especially when one of the ducks nibbles on my dress.

  I try to shoo it away but have no luck. When I twist and spin on my heels, I notice a car with tinted windows on the road at the end of the bridge. A man in the driver’s seat has rolled his window down and is staring at me.

  A chill runs down my spine.

  I don’t know why, but when he drives off seconds later, I feel like I can finally breathe again.

  To this day, every single incident scares me. Makes me want to scream with the voice I’ve lost long ago.

  I’ll do anything to stop the terror, so I start walking. Even with all the ducks chasing me, I keep going. One of the ducks latches onto my dress again. I pull it back and throw another piece of bread behind me. They’re so busy and distracted that I can make a run for it.

  I’m completely out of breath when I get home. I can’t believe I got so worked up again over just a car. It was fun feeding the animals, though.

  I take off my coat and put the loaf away then I put a cup of water in the microwave and heat it up. After I make a cup of hot tea, I sit down on the couch and pick up my Kindle. I love reading … and I love tea. It’s odd because most people I know don’t drink tea, but I love it. Then again, I’m not like most people.

  I like silence. I like the serenity it brings. Silence is when the world is still spinning, and everything is okay. Silence is what I’m used to. It’s all I’ve known since …

  I choke up just thinking about it.

  I gaze at the clock and at the pictures on my bookcase. They’re so unique and detailed. I can’t stop looking at them from time to time. I made them myself. Dad always says it’s okay to be proud of yourself even if it’s a small thing.

  I smile to myself, thinking of how happy he was when I picked up this hobby, as he calls it.

  To me, it’s my job. I sell these pictures to newspapers and magazines—whoever is willing to pay for them. They’re my bread and butter. I can live off it, so it’s more than just a hobby. Even though it doesn’t make me rich, it’s something I can do. Something that doesn’t require me to talk to people. Something that makes me feel less out of this world.

  Sipping my tea, I enjoy the day until it’s time to cook. However, just as I’m about to get up, I hear the lock in my front door rattle. Seconds later, Bobby, or Bo as he likes to call himself nowadays, bursts in with a paper bag filled with groceries.

  “Hi, Ella!” He’s always so vibrant; it amazes me.

  I wave.

  “Feeling good today?”

  I nod.

  “Sorry about the sudden entry. I just thought I’d surprise you by cooking for you. That okay?”

  Bo’s sweet; I have to give him that even though he just barged into my home.

  He does that from time to time—to check up on me, I suppose.

  Ever since my sister’s gone, he’s been keeping an eye on me. It’s like he feels responsible for me, in a way, which is cute.

  “I’ve got some fresh veggies here that we can cut up,” he says, placing the paper bag on the counter.

  He didn’t have to buy all that, but I can’t say no to a hearty meal either, especially when he cooks it. His dishes taste much better than mine do.

  “Mac and cheese but with veggies?” he asks, turning around to wink at me.

  I nod, smiling.

  “I knew you’d be a sucker for it.” He points at me and laughs. “One mac and cheese coming right up.”

  He’s too sweet for his own good. Always taking care of everyone. I don’t remember him being any different, at least not toward me.

  Other people sometimes say he’s a weirdo because he’s so shy and doesn’t have many friends. But I don’t mind. I’m the same, so I guess that makes us friends by default.

  I smile to myself, watching him toil about in my kitchen. He’s such a kind soul, despite being so closed off to the outside world. He hides his pain and sorrow underneath thick layers of fake happiness. Anyone can see that. But I won’t judge him for it. After all, I have baggage of my own to deal with.

  When the food is done, we gobble it down together while watching television. Then we wash the dishes and play a board game. He doesn’t talk much, but I like it that way. We both like the silence.

  I just enjoy the time I have with him without feeling judged. When we’re hanging out, we focus on the good things in life. And it makes me happy … if only for a moment.

  A few hours later, the day has already passed, and Bo has gone back home.

  In bed, I lie awake and stare at the ceiling, wondering if my simple life will ever be anything other than boring. If I could ever handle anything else again.

  Because as I turn in my bed and curl up into that comfy position, I still feel my heart banging out of my chest. The crippling fear that has chased me for so long still holds me in a vise grip every single day of my life.

  And there’s no way to escape.

  No other way … but sleep.

  * * *

  I wake up to something covering my face. A sickly sweet smell enters my nostrils as I breathe, but it makes me want to vomit. My eyes burst open.

  A man is standing mere inches away from me.

  His hand covers my face. A damp cloth between us.

  My eyes dart around the room, looking for an object I can use to smash his face in, but he’s holding me down with his other hand. I’m paralyzed from both my fear and his control. And the more I struggle, the harder it becomes to breathe.

  To move.

  To see.

>   I’m weak—so weak and tired—but I don’t want to close my eyes.

  What is he doing to me? Who is he? Why is he here? How did he get in?

  I want to open my mouth and scream, but when I do, nothing comes out.

  His voice is all I hear … whispering to me like a snake right before I fade away.

  “Shhh, it’ll all be over soon.”

  * * *

  When I come to again, the first thing I feel is a roaring headache. My lungs burn when I breathe through my mouth. A metallic taste lies on my tongue, and I swallow to make it go away, but it lingers. Everything hurts. My head. My mouth. As if I’ve been hit a couple of times, but I can’t remember a thing.

  And when I open my eyes, I’m still so dizzy; I can barely make out a thing.

  It’s dark as night. Not a single light surrounds me except the one at the far end of the room.

  The room … with no windows.

  No plants.

  No sunlight.

  Nothing.

  All I can see is a gray concrete wall surrounding me.

  I try to get up, but my feet don’t feel like they belong to me, and I struggle to get anywhere. But I don’t give up. I keep crawling across the floor, hoping to make it to the light, just so I can see where I am.

  But I can’t.

  Not because my muscles gave up.

  But because I physically, literally can’t.

  Between me and the light … is glass.

  I turn around, trying to find a way around it, but there’s no crack. Not a single one in all the glass surrounding me. Not even at the top as I try to stand on my toes. Nothing … but glass.

  A cage.

  My heart stops beating.

  The panic rises again, bubbling to the surface.

  I open my mouth and scream, but no sound comes out except for a faint sigh.

  Just like always. My voice was taken from me a long time ago. And I know no matter how hard I try that no one will hear me.

  Where am I? Who was that man? Where did he bring me and why?

  With my back against the glass panes, I sink to the floor.