Divided

by Kaesey Stobaugh

  The questions and now pointless facts overwhelm me by the time I reach the river. I bend over to wash my face and try to calm down so I can think logically. I know I’m probably disgraced for running out on my family in the midst of mourning but right now, I couldn’t care less. I’m better off in the woods where I can really mourn. This is more peaceful than that depressing house and tiny table anyway. And the best part is my father is now miles away.

  I bite my tongue when I think about the awful thing I’d said to him, not because I’m ashamed but because the girls were there. Sometimes words just slip out, but I never would have said them if I didn’t mean it.

  I sit down by the water, holding my head that is now aching. As the painful thought creeps in, I feel like pulling my hair out; the thought that things might have been different if I had been there last night. Maybe I could have saved her. I know I could have done something. I need to not think about that. I need to clear my head. I need to breathe. I just don’t know how I’m going to live with this, knowing it’s my fault.

  I must have been sitting here for hours, staring at the water running because when I look up, it’s dark and cloudy. I need to go home. Staying out again probably isn’t a good idea. Then I remember the deal I made this morning. Willa is probably waiting for me right now. I should talk to somebody. I need to talk to somebody. I’d pick Willa to talk to over my parents any day. I force myself to stand up, cross the river and head in Willa’s direction, lost in thought again. If only I had been home last night. But I wasn’t, I was with Willa. I almost blurted out her name to my family earlier. That would have been a big mistake. At least I kept my mouth shut when he asked me about the medicine and where I got it.

  “Where I got it,” My lips form the words but nothing comes out. I got it from Willa. She gave it to me. I try to think that through.

  Suddenly, I stop dead in my tracks. I stare forward but I’m not really looking at anything. I’m thinking. Leila was better before the medicine than after…considering she’s gone now. That medicine was supposed to make her well, Willa said it would. I think again about the hand off with Willa.

  No… she didn’t say it would make her well. She never said that, actually. I said that, I made that up. Willa had said, “I really don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s all coming back. It all makes sense. That medicine has to be what killed Leila, and I gave it to her….

  I grab my head again and seriously try to rip my hair out. How could I be so stupid? I hear my mouth scream out horrible things. I scream in anger and kick all the rocks, sticks, mounds of dirt, roots, even trees around me. Still swearing under my breath, I feel the tears pour down again as I sink to my knees and whisper the horrible realization out loud to myself.

  “I poisoned my baby sister.”

  I stay here on my knees for hours. I can’t even breathe. I don’t deserve to breathe. I should be dead. Why am I not dead?

  I stare at the ground in front of me and slowly rise to my feet. I didn’t do this. No, somebody else did this. Somebody that I really had begun to trust, somebody that I told my secrets, my fears and my dreams, my past and my most likely future to. Somebody that I gave everything to, that I even fell in love with. I rested my sister’s life in this person’s hands and now my sister is dead. I feel my fists tighten again. I don’t want to believe this but I have nothing else to go for. I know why Leila is dead and I know who killed her.

  My lips whisper so softly that I can hardly hear it but at the same time, it’s completely clear, “Willa.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Willamina

  For three nights now I’ve journeyed into the woods, into our clearing and sat upon our log until the first light of morning. The first night, I sobbed the entire time, not even bothering to be silent. The second, the tears fell noiselessly. The third, I sat rigid and my face was emotionless. I’m all out of tears now.

  I don’t bother acting like nothing’s wrong around my family anymore. I refuse to leave my warm bed all day. When my parents ask me what’s wrong, I don’t reply. They’ve had doctors come and look at me but they all report that there’s nothing wrong. I only eat when I’m absolutely starving and I know I’ve lost weight. I haven’t slept in four days and my face is gaunt and pale.

  I don’t worry anymore, which is in some ways a relief. However, I don’t worry because my mind has shut down. I don’t feel anything. My mind and heart have gone numb.

  I barely notice the slow but steady stream of worried family members that come and go. I know they’re talking to me but the words sound far away and muffled. I follow the progress of the sun down my window, then behind the edge of the world. Even through the numbness, my brain always knows when it’s time to get up and walk to the forest. I don’t know if I believe he’ll come back or not, but in a sense, it’s not about that anymore. It’s about coming. If I stopped coming, I think I would break completely. If I stopped coming than our adventure would truly be over. I wouldn’t have any proof that this clearing, this wall, and this log ever existed. It would be as if none of it had ever happened. It would be as if Nathan Ambers, the Worker who climbed over The Wall, had never existed at all.

  My movements are sluggish and it takes me nearly half an hour to get there. When I break through the trees, I don’t bother to look for him. I know he’s not here. I claim my seat on the log and face the cold monster of a wall.

  One hour is gone, and then two and I sit, silent, impassive. Suddenly, a spark of warmth erupts in the dark recesses of my mind. I wake up a little. There it is again, what is that? I feel my mind start to buzz with mental activity. The spark comes again, but this time, it engulfs me and a memory floods through my head. Nate is spontaneously kissing me, then pulling back and trying to apologize. I kiss him. It’s the most wonderful moment of my entire life.

  I snap out of it but it’s too late to stay numb. I’m emotionally awake again and I know exactly what I need to do. If Nate won’t come to me, then I’ll go to him.

  I find the ladder and position it opposite the fallen tree. Not once have I ever imagined myself climbing over this wall. But I have to do this, I have to know. The ladder shakes slightly as I climb. When I’m face to face with the barbed wire, I start to wonder if I’m coordinated enough for this. I’m not, but I have to try anyway.

  I get as high on the ladder as I can go and attempt to step over the barbed wire and onto the tree. The problem is that I’m standing fifteen feet in the air on little to no surface and trying to get on another surface, but this one is sloped. I use my arms to balance, swing my leg over the wire and set it down on the sloped tree. Good, half way there. I try to position my other foot next to the first, but my stationary foot suddenly loses traction and slides off the side of the tree.

  I scream and try to grab hold of something, anything, but there’s nothing to grab. The ground has rushed up to meet me before I’m ready for it and I land in the dead leaves with a muffled thud. My ankle screams at me in pain but I don’t sit up. All the air has been knocked out of my lungs. I lay, gasping for a minute before I finally manage a breath. I breathe deeply and lie still, even though my ankle is throbbing painfully. I can still hear the ghost of my scream traveling through the dead forest on his side.

  When I feel relaxed again, I sit up to examine it. I put slight pressure on it and soon regret it. I let out a pained cry. It’s already starting to swell. How can I walk now? I can’t stay here. If I turn back, I’ll still have a long walk ahead of me and nothing to show for it. Not to mention the fact that there’s no way I’ll be able to climb the tree and down the ladder with my ankle twisted awkwardly the way it is. If I continue, I’ll still have to walk a lot, but hopefully, I’ll find Nate. That’s the only way.

  I pull myself to my feet, only putting slight pressure on my ankle. I have to move, but how can I? I look around the forest for some kind of answer. It’s colder here. How is that possible? The Wall’s only a foot thick! The trees look sickly and the leaves are mostly brown. All of t
he sudden it hits me, truly hits; I’m on the other side for the first time in my life.

  I let out a shaky breath. I can’t believe I’m actually scared. Nate travels in this wood every single day. If he can, so can I.

  I notice a broken branch at the base of a tree near me. When I pick it up, I can’t believe my luck. It’s shaped like a capital Y. I can use it as a crutch! It won’t be comfortable but all I need is functional. I position it under my arm. It’s a little too tall but it’s better than nothing. I start maneuvering myself around the forest but then I realize that I have no idea how to get to the Worker’s town. Maybe I can stumble upon it if I just wander around. I’ve gotten pretty good at wandering around in the woods.

  I walk at a slight angle to The Wall. As I walk, I start to hear something. As I get closer, I identify the sound as running water. It’s not long before I come to a river. I don’t have anything else to go on so I decide to follow it. I can’t go very fast with my temporary crutch and the hard wood starts to bite into my under arm. The throbbing in my ankle has intensified greatly and it’s swelled to twice its original size. But I don’t stop, I can’t stop. I have to find Nate. I need to know that he’s okay.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been walking but my aching muscles tell me it’s been a while. My eyes are furiously scanning for any sign of habitation. So, far I’ve found nothing.

  I see a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. Looking closer, I see that there are little orange flags lined up like they’re marking a perimeter. This must be it! The only problem is they’re on the other side of the river.

  I sigh heavily. I really don’t want to wade through a cold river with a sprained, possibly broken, ankle. I have no other option. That seems to be the story of my life lately. I dip my uninjured foot into the water, but my leather ankle boots protect me from the water. I wade in farther and the icy water hits my bare legs. I cringe. Another step, even colder, then another, it’s up to my waist. Luckily, that’s as deep as it gets. The current isn’t strong at all so I use my arms to propel me to the other side. I get out of the river as quickly as I can with my ankle but I’m even colder now that I’m in the cool night air again. Great, now I’m tired, hungry, injured and wet.

  I trudge miserably into the territory marked by the orange flags. My branch is starting to bend in the middle whenever I put my weight on it. I hope I get there soon. How will I know where to go when I get there anyway? I’ll figure it out somehow.

  Finally, I come upon a little shack. It’s old and looks like it’s falling apart. I continue and soon more shacks appear. Suddenly, they’re everywhere. I keep walking; Nate said he lived at the back of town.

  I’ve never seen poverty like this before. Nothing is clean. Everything is falling apart. The few animals that I see look dirty, miserable and like they are used to starving. I’m sure most of the people aren’t in much better condition. The “houses” start to spread out more and more. I come upon a dirt road that splits in two and goes to two different shacks. This must be close to the end of town. I know that I’ll have to pick a house and ask for directions. I hope they’ll think that I’m strange and then never think of me again. I hold on to the hope that maybe they’ll think I’m one of them because I’m in such bad shape.

  Right or left? I choose right and limp up the path to the shack. Just as I reach the door and I put my weight on the branch for the last time, it snaps in the middle. I fall to the dirty ground. This is not my day. But at last I’m on my feet and I knock sharply on the door.

  I hear panicked shuffling coming from inside. A light flickers on; I can see it through the cracks in the door. The door opens ever so slightly and I can see someone’s eye looking at me through the opening. When this person sees me she sighs loudly with relief and opens the door wider. She was probably expecting the guards.

  “Can I help you?” She looks at me curiously, taking in my dirty matted hair, wetness, and swollen ankle.

  “Um, yes.” How do I ask this? “Do you, by any chance, know where a family called the Ambers live?”

  “Is this a joke?” She asks sternly.

  “No… Why?” I’m afraid I’ve said the wrong thing.

  “They’re right over there.” She points to the shack to her left. “But I wouldn’t bother them right now. They’re in mourning.” She closes the door before I can get up the courage to ask who they’re mourning for.

  Surely Nate can’t be…no. I won’t allow myself to think like that. I turn and march quickly to the other shack. My ankle doesn’t hurt me nearly as much as my heart does. I can’t take it. I rap quickly on their door and wait. I get the same reaction as last time. Hurried shuffling, a sudden light illuminating the doorway, and then it opens a crack and someone peers out at me. But they don’t open it wider when they see I’m not the guards.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” The speaker is a woman with a cold, harsh voice. His mother. Instantly, I become strong and defensive. She doesn’t care about Nate.

  “Where’s Nathen?” I say simply, but my voice is commanding.

  “Why do you want to know?” She snaps.

  “That’s my business, now where is he?” I hear footsteps and then another voice, one that I recognize.

  “Who is it?” The newcomer asks with a surreal voice I feared I’d never hear again.

  “Nate!” I call to him. Relief floods over me. He’s alive!

  “Willa?” He sounds astounded. He’s soon pulled the door all the way open and is staring at me with surprise and something I can’t identify. Whatever it is, it makes me uneasy.

  “What’s happened? Where have you been?” I choke out, trying to blink back tears.

  “What happened to you?” He takes in my appearance, “Why- Willa, you can’t be here! Does anyone else know you’re here? Did anyone see you?”

  I try to say something, but I don’t know what to say or where to begin.

  “Willa, you need to leave. Now.” His eyes are hard. He hasn’t looked at me like this since we first met. A thought occurs to me, one that hurts.

  “Are-are you mad at me for something?” He doesn’t answer, just stares at me with those hard, dark eyes. “But you can’t be! We were so close last time I…” I can’t get the rest out. The last time I saw you, before you left me waiting all alone in the woods for four days.

  “Things have changed since then. A lot. It’s none of your concern and you need to go home.”

  “Tell me, please! We have to talk about this. I don’t even know what I’ve done!” I’m bordering on hysterical now. Nate’s my rock. If I don’t have him, what do I have?

  “I really don’t want to talk to you right now, Willa.” His voice is hard but I can see his eyes soften when they see my swollen ankle.

  “Oh, you’ve noticed my ankle?” I say sarcastically, “That is just one of the many things I had to go through to get here. I wouldn’t have bothered coming except I was so sure that something had happened to you. I thought that that would be the only reason in the world that you wouldn’t come back to me for. Apparently I was wrong.”

  He still looks hard but his eyes are significantly softer, “I’ll tell you why we’re done being friends, and then you’ll leave.” Being friends. He acts like we weren’t something more.

  I try to take a step into the shack, but I forget that my ankle is out of commission and nearly crumble to the ground. At the last literal second, Nate catches me. He puts an arm around my waist and helps me limp inside and to a room in the back. He looks like the physical contact with me pains him.

  His family watches us curiously but I don’t have time to look at them much. When we arrive, he closes the door behind him and sets me down gently on a low to the ground cot. This must be his room. There’s nothing in here except the cot and a wooden dresser in the corner.

  “I’m sure it’s not up to your standards, princess, but it’s all I have.” He says, seeing me look around.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m fin
e with anything, you know that. Are you going to explain to me the reason for the sudden hatred?” He doesn’t say anything. I can see his mind racing. “The lady next door said that your family…was…in mourning. What did she mean, Nate?”

  His face hardens as he sighs with irritation, “You went next door? That’s great, Willa. I don’t even know who lives over there and now they know about both of us! Why would you-“

  “It’s not like she recognized me!” I shout, “She was just relieved I wasn’t one of the guards. Nate, why is your family mourning?”

  I watch the shield in his eyes fall as the pain overcomes his mask of bitterness, taking him over. “Leila…” He’s crying now and he’s not even trying to hide it from me.

  “No. No, that’s not possible! She was better…wasn’t she better?” I wish he’d tell me that he’s kidding, that Leila is healthy and happy, but I know he won’t.

  “She was…and then she wasn’t.”

  “Nate, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “You should be.” It’s almost a whisper, so low that I wonder if I imagined it. But the hatred in his eyes tells me I didn’t.

  “You don’t think I killed her, do you? Why would you even think that?”

  “It was the medicine.” He spits the words at me, like they taste sour.

  “What was wrong with it?” He’s scaring me a little. I’ve never seen him like this before.

  “It killed her!” He screams.

  “How?”

  “It just did!” Suddenly, the hatred dissolves and astonishment takes its place. He collapses on the cot next to me with a dazed look on his face. “I. Don’t. Know.” He tastes each word, like he’s learning them for the first time.

  “Why did you think it was the medicine?” I ask gently.

  “Because…because,” The tears are falling again. “I needed someone to blame, or I’d break. You were the only option.”