Breaking Free

by SM Koz

  This must be the reason I’ve been drawn to her from the beginning. Even with her whiny attitude the first couple days, I knew there was something more to her. It was as if I could look past the angry shell to see what’s in her heart. Her pure, beautiful, tortured heart that resembles mine in so many ways, yet is so different in the ways that matter most.

  There’s a good chance this could be the wild ramblings of someone after a near-death experience and I’ll laugh at my entry tomorrow morning. Or I could be falling for this girl. A girl who, on the outside, seems like an impossible match for me, but on the inside might be the one person who would understand me if I told her the hideous truth about what I did.

  I rest my hands on the counter and stare at his writing. That was not what I expected.

  “What did he do?” Marta asks.

  I turn and stare at her without speaking, still trying to process his words.

  “Did you understand what he did?” she asks, pointing to the last line on the page.

  My eyes follow her fingers and then I slowly shake my head. “I don’t think he ever told me. I don’t remember anything shocking.”

  “You looked stunned.”

  I nod. “He liked me.”

  “Of course he liked you. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.”

  Her comment brings me out of my daze and I scowl at her because her words aren’t true. “He never told me he liked me like that.”

  “Did you like him?”

  “As a friend. A really good friend. Like, by the end, rivaling Jenna good. I thought he felt the same.” There was the last night when things went to a different level, but Marta doesn’t need to know about that. Besides, that was more a result of the situation than anything else.

  “Does this change things? Knowing he might have had stronger feelings?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Then, the reality of the situation hits. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s gone. First Jenna and then JC. I lose anyone in my life who truly cares for me.

  Marta senses the change in my mood and slips off her stool to wrap her arms around me again. “Lo siento, cariño,” she murmurs. “Lo siento.”

  A few tears roll down my cheeks and I whimper, but it’s not like my earlier meltdown. I must still have enough drugs inside me to mellow out my mood. That’s frustrating in and of itself. I want to have a good screaming, crying session at the unfairness of it all, but my mind won’t cooperate.

  “I’ll make us some tea,” Marta says, backing into the kitchen.

  I nod and return to the sofa in the living room, carrying JC’s journal with me. After nestling into the corner cushions, I open it back up to read what else he wrote.

  I despise Bling. Something is not right about him. He either feels the same about me or is “Crew“. Either way, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to coexist peacefully over the next three weeks. I can’t lose it on him. That would land me in a cell next to my dad, which would break Mama’s heart.

  “Here you go,” Marta says, handing me a mug of steaming tea. “Did he write more about you?”

  “Not yet. He was worried he’d lose it on Bling and be sent to prison.”

  “Hmm, they continued to argue?”

  “Yes. It only got worse after the canoe incident.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I lowered the journal on the coffee table and rotated to face Marta who was sitting on the love seat. Without thinking, I began replaying, for the first time ever to another person, my time in the woods.

  Chapter 12: July 25 (Day 7)

  The day after the accident, we took it easy. Neeky was still having withdrawal symptoms and Chris was obviously worried about Bling and JC. She wouldn’t let either of them out of her or Jason’s sight. Plus, they were wary and suspicious of each other. Every time I sat next to JC, I could feel the tension radiating from him.

  “Bling scares me,” I whispered.

  “I won’t let him touch you,” he said, his jaw set in a rigid line.

  “I’m afraid for you, too.”

  With a half-smile, he said, “I can take care of myself.”

  “What if he has a gun or knife?”

  “Chris or Jason would have found it.”

  “Like they found Neeky’s stash?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’m used to his type. I can hold my own.”

  “Hmm … that worries me, too.”

  “You worry a lot.”

  Before I could reply, Mia plopped down next to us.

  “How’s Neeky doing?” I asked.

  “Taking a nap.” She crossed her legs and then frowned in my direction. “That’s not a very nice nickname.”

  “It was based on initial impressions and has nothing to do with what I think of him. Plus, he seemed flattered I even bothered to give him a nickname.”

  A crow cawed overhead, drawing our eyes upwards. Once it disappeared into the forest, she said, “It’s still not nice. And I hate Mia.”

  “Why? Mia’s a pretty name.”

  “We both know what it stands for.”

  “I thought you wanted to get better. Isn’t step one admitting you have a problem?” Apparently some of Chris’ therapy sessions were sinking in. “Accepting your nickname would be a move in the right direction.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “I see how it is. Everyone else gets mean-spirited nicknames while you get Mal. What’s that stand for? Mallory? Is that your middle name or something?”

  “No. That’d be Renee.”

  “So, what’s Mal stand for?”

  “Malibu Krueger, courtesy of JC. Because, you know, I look like Barbie and …” I paused. I had never said it out loud at that point. I licked my lips and then whispered, “I cut.” It wasn’t nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. It was kind of refreshing. I was so ashamed and worked so hard to hide it from everyone that it was kind of liberating to be free of the pressure. “I cut,” I repeated more loudly, amazed by the ease with which those two words rolled off my tongue.

  Removing the bracelet from my wrist, I rotated my arm so she and JC could see the scars. I flipped the silver band between my hands and contemplated putting it back on, but realized I was now somewhere where everyone knew my secret, whether I admitted it or not. JC was right days ago when he said I wasn’t fooling anyone.

  I handed the bracelet to Mia. “Want this?”

  “Why?” she asked, but slipped it onto her wrist anyway.

  “Step one. I need to try and accept who I am.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You all knew what it was hiding anyway. Just like we all know you’re bulimic, whether or not we call you Mia. And Neeky’s an alcoholic. And Bling’s probably done shit we can’t even imagine. And JC …”

  He raised his eyebrows when I paused. “Yeah?”

  I focused on him then. “How can it be that I’ve spent the better part of a week talking to you and still don’t know exactly why you’re here? All you told me is you have to be here.”

  “I’m a man of mystery.”

  “Yesterday, you were an open-book.”

  “Maybe I’m a compulsive liar.”

  “Why would you have to be here for that?”

  He shrugged and gave no indication that he was going to tell us the real reason.

  “Sex addict?” Mia asked, no doubt remembering all the condoms he arrived with.

  He laughed. “Clearly, no. We’ve been out here a week and I’ve gotten no action.”

  “It’s not like you didn’t have the opportunity,” I said, rocking my shoulder into his.

  “I don’t make a habit out of sleeping with chicks who are just using me for something,” he replied, tapping my nose with his finger.

  “Unless it’s for a good time?”

  “Hmm … that’s not as appealing as it once was.”

  “Are you saying that you, Casanova, are ready to settle down with one girl?”

  “Maybe. If it’s the right girl.”

&n
bsp; “You two can flirt later. I want to know why you’re here,” Mia said, interrupting our conversation and focusing on JC.

  “We’re not flirting,” I said, stretching out my legs and leaning on my elbows. “If he’s no longer a player then we need to change his name. Juicehead Mr. Monogamy? JMM?”

  “Whatever, do that later. Are you a stoner?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I’ve never even smoked a cigarette.”

  “Really?” we both asked with shock. “I have some back at the Lodge if you want to give it a try,” I added.

  “No. It’s not an inability to acquire them that’s the problem. Those things will kill you.” He jabbed me in the shoulder with his finger. “You should burn them when we get back.”

  “I only smoke when I drink.”

  JC murmured in response, which made me think he didn’t approve of my extracurricular activities.

  “I’m running out of ideas here,” Mia said, scrunching up her forehead. “Bad grades?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, just tell us already,” I said.

  “This is more fun.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes!” Mia and I yelled together.

  He smiled and then said, “Apparently, I have aggressive tendencies.” He used air quotes for the last two words.

  My jaw dropped and I stared at him. That made sense given the way he acted towards Bling yesterday. But it also made me kind of nervous. I had never been around someone who was violent.

  “Is there warning or does it just come out whenever?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t commit random acts of violence. The problem is when someone messes with me or my family.”

  “Uh oh,” I said. “Do I have to worry you’re going to go all Hulk on me the next time I make fun of you?”

  “On you? Of course not. I’d never hit a girl.”

  “On Bling?”

  “I hope not. I need to finish this program.”

  “Come here everyone!” Chris yelled from the other side of the campsite. “We have to prep for tomorrow morning.”

  We stood and then I looked back to Neeky’s tent. He was still sound asleep inside, so I said, “Hey, Mia—I mean Ashley—are you going to get Nee—Sam?”

  She turned around to face me and her lips slowly curled into a smile. “Mia’s fine and Sam likes Neeky. I’m beginning to think you didn’t intend for it to be mean at all. You might be one of the least judgmental people I’ve ever met.”

  “So we’re good?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.”

  Chapter 13: August 24

  “It’s nice that you and Mia grew closer,” Marta says. She had put cookies in the oven while I was telling her what happened. The timer goes off, so she hops up and rushes into the kitchen.

  “We hadn’t talked much before then, but some kind of barrier crumbled after that discussion,” I say, twisting on the couch so I can still see her.

  She removes the cookie sheet from the oven. “What about Neeky?”

  “Once he was feeling better, he joined us. It really became the four of us. It was almost like Bling wasn’t even there because he never interacted with us unless he had to. That’s weird, right?”

  “It does seem unusual that someone would keep to himself in that setting.” She slides a few chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, pours two glasses of milk, and then rejoins me. Nodding to my arm she asks, “Have you ever covered up your wrist again after giving Mia your bracelet?”

  I look down to the raised white scars, the healing scabs, and the rows of stitches running the entire width of my forearm. “No.”

  “You’ve accepted your flaws?”

  “I’ve accepted that I’m too weak to handle the guilt on my own. This is who I am. Who I will always be. I can’t hide that forever.”

  “I don’t think you’re weak. Why do you?”

  “Only weak people cut,” I say, looking down at the scars.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Sheila.”

  Marta makes a tsking sound and then reaches for my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine. “That’s not true.”

  “That’s what she said when she found me.”

  She shakes her head and mutters something that sounds like “Que Dios me ayude.” Squeezing my fingers she asks, “Would you like to talk about it?”

  “No.” I grab a cookie from the plate and nibble on the edges while she disappears to the front entry. When she returns, she’s carrying a mesh bag filled with yarn. She takes out two long metal sticks with sharp, pointy ends and starts winding the yarn around one of them.

  “Are you knitting?”

  “Sí. Would you like to join me?”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “I can teach you.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” She reaches into the bag and pulls out two wooden sticks. “What color yarn would you like?”

  “What am I making?”

  “A scarf.”

  I lean the bag towards me and run my hand through the rainbow it contains until I land on my favorite color. “Pink.”

  I finish my cookie while she gathers the supplies and then sets them next to me. After only a few minutes of instruction, I begin wrapping the yarn around the stick like a pro.

  “Very good. Keep casting on until you reach the point I’m at,” she says holding up her stick, which is apparently called a knitting needle.

  I nod. “You know, Sheila would fire you if she found out you let me play with sharp pointy sticks.”

  “Well, let’s not tell her, then,” Marta replies with a wink.

  “You’re not afraid of what I’ll do?”

  She just smiles and moves her fingers, transforming the yarn. After a few minutes I finish, so Marta shows me how to move the second needle between the pieces of yarn I just casted on to make the first row of my scarf. It’s more complicated than I thought and I end up having to use all my concentration so I don’t mess it up.

  Once she’s sure I have the technique down, she says, “This reminds me of when I taught my daughter to knit.”

  “You have a daughter?” I ask, focusing primarily on the project in front of me.

  “Yes, but she’s all grown up now. She finished high school, spent some time in the Marines, went to…”

  “Was she ever deployed?” I ask, interrupting her, but still not taking my eyes away from the developing scarf in my lap.

  “Yes. In total, she spent about four years in Afghanistan. The worst four years of my life. I was constantly afraid whenever the doorbell rang. I was always worried it would be the visitor no military mother wants.”

  “That never happened?” I finally look up and see that Marta’s scarf is double the size of mine as she whips the needles around without even thinking.

  “No. She successfully finished her commitment and ended up receiving an honorable discharge after her time was up. Then she went to college and got both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree.”

  She has a massive grin on her face.

  “You’re proud of her.”

  She beams even brighter. “Sí.”

  “What’s she doing now?”

  “She’s in between jobs as she deals with some medical problems.”

  “I’m sorry. Will she be okay?”

  Marta nods. “She’s a fighter. She won’t let this get her down.”

  I glance at my scarf and the yarn is all tangled. That’s what I get for looking away. Fumbling with the needles, I try to back my way out, but it only gets more tangled. “Shit, I think I messed something up.”

  “Let me see,” Marta says, reaching over to grab my tools. She winds her fingers between the loops and in two seconds it already looks a little better. “It’s not so bad.”

  “What happened to your daughter?”

  Her fingers continue to slide between the yarn, working their magic. “Accident. She’s in t
he hospital right now.”

  My jaw drops. “That’s awful. You should be with her, not here with me.”

  “She’s in good hands,” she says, passing back my needles and yarn. “She told me to stay here. She’ll let me know if she needs me.”

  For the next two hours, we knit our scarves, have milk and cookies, and talk about random subjects from colleges to our favorite foods to what movies we want to see. She seems legitimately interested in me, which is weird, but I find myself enjoying her company. For the entire time, I don’t once think about JC or Jenna.

  Chapter 14: August 25

  “Kelsie, WAKE UP,” SHEILA says, leaning through my bedroom door. “I’ve got an appointment and Marta is here.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “No, I’ve got to go. Get in the shower.”

  I groan because I know Sheila’s not leaving until I’m ready for the day. She has zero faith in me and won’t even let me dress in peace.

  I roll out of bed, trudge to the shower, and step in while Sheila sits on the closed toilet lid, playing on her phone. “Hurry up, Kelsie. People are waiting on me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re missed,” I say, lathering up my hair. “Who will boss everyone else around if you’re not there?”

  “That’s enough.”

  “Or gossip about who is sleeping with who.”

  “Kelsie,” she says in her warning tone.

  “Or flaunt the money she hasn’t worked a day in her life to earn.”

  “That’s it! I go above and beyond to try and help you and this is how you treat me? Marta!” she yells. She must move to my bedroom because her voice fades as she yells again, “Marta!”