Breaking Free

by SM Koz

  I shrugged again. I did fine when I was exhausted or distracted, but after any amount of time to myself, my thoughts always drifted to the place I loathed. I couldn’t control it on my own.

  When I didn’t say anything, he answered for me. “You’ll cut again.”

  “Probably.”

  The sun was almost down now, leaving only a faint red glow outlining the rounded peaks. JC picked up a pebble and tossed it over the ledge in front of us. “Show me.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I want to understand.”

  “I think the point of this trip is to make us stop our destructive behaviors, not pick up new ones.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have aggressive tendencies if I cut myself.”

  A large bird, maybe a hawk or an eagle, circled above us silently. After three rotations, it dove into the forest below.

  “Give me your watch.”

  He unbuckled it and dropped it in my hand. I turned it over and pulled out the metal prong that keeps the band closed.

  “Now give me your arm.”

  I was shocked that he didn’t draw his hand away. Other than the few incidents with Bling, he seemed like the most well-balanced person out here, but that clearly wasn’t true. He was struggling just as much as me.

  I pushed the metal against his skin until it indented and then glanced to his face. He was watching my motion with interest, not disgust.

  I pushed even harder until a drop of blood appeared and then slid the metal about half an inch, giving him a small cut.

  I turned the metal prong on myself then and quickly made a two-inch gash near my elbow on a fresh, unscarred area. Since I wasn’t hiding it anymore, it didn’t matter where I did it and there was something exciting about destroying a new patch of skin. I closed my eyes to enjoy the expected rush, but it was only a fraction of what I was used to.

  I looked up to JC. He was silent, but watching me with intense eyes.

  Although I didn’t get the immediate rush I wanted, I was rewarded with something much stronger when he silently wrapped his fingers around mine, blood dripping down our hands and pooling on the rock below us. There was a sick sense of closeness to him. It was as though our bodies and minds were connected, swirling together. I felt lighter. Warmer. At ease. Having never cut anyone else, I was surprised by my extreme reaction. I had never experienced anything like it before. Not even with sex.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  I nodded, as the warmth spread through my body. “Have I converted you?”

  “No.” That disappointed me because I was already thinking we could do it a few more times before he left.

  I closed my eyes to enjoy the euphoric feeling that was now giving way to contentment. “Maybe I should try your stress reliever, then,” I said absently.

  “You would never do that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You’re a better person than me.”

  “Because I prefer to hurt myself instead of other people?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I kind of enjoyed cutting you.”

  “Uh oh. Should I be worried?”

  I smiled, but said nothing. I wasn’t sure I knew the answer.

  It was dark by then and stars had appeared overhead. I lay back on the rock, still holding onto his hand. I tried to find the Big Dipper, but when I traced lines between a few stars, they never made any sort of a shape. “Where’s the Big Dipper?” I asked.

  JC lay down next to me and then extended his free hand, pointing to a group of stars low on the horizon and towards our left.

  I studied the area, but still couldn’t see it.

  “And that’s the Little Dipper,” he said, moving his hand to the right and up higher in the sky. “If you go just a little farther, you’ll see Cassiopeia.”

  “You’re making shit up now.”

  I could sense him looking at me. “No, it’s a real constellation. Honest.”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “The letter W.”

  I studied the sky for a few moments, but it was elusive. “I don’t see it.”

  “It’s right there,” he said, pointing again. “Tilt your head because the W is facing sideways.”

  I did as he recommended and sure enough, it finally appeared. “What else have you got?”

  “Umm … that’s Artemis.”

  “What?”

  “Artemis—the virgin goddess of wilderness. That’s her head,” he said, pointing to a star directly overhead. “And that’s her left boob and then her bow and arrow,” he added, drawing a line down and to the left.

  “I can see that,” I said, nodding.

  He let out a big laugh. “That one is made up.”

  I dropped his hand and slapped his shoulder, which caused him to chuckle again. After that, we quieted down until I decided to eat my birthday cake. I removed the package from the pocket of my hoodie, tore open the plastic wrapping, and then handed one Little Debbie to JC.

  “It’s your birthday. You should have both,” he said, leaning up on his elbow to face me.

  “I want to share with you.”

  He took the cake from my outstretched hand then ate half of it in one bite. I was more delicate, plucking sprinkles off one by one and then peeling away the icing.

  “Hey, JC?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you ever feel like you’re made up of different layers?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked with a full mouth.

  “Like this cake. On the outside, we’ve got all the pretty decorations like sprinkles that make people think they know who we are, but those decorations might not match what’s on the inside.”

  “Like sugary goodness on the outside and a nasty tasting cake on the inside?”

  “Precisely.” I rolled on my side to face him. “I can have on expensive jewelry and designer clothes, making everyone think my life is perfect, but on the inside I’m miserable. The two don’t match up, but people don’t know. And then you’ve got the icing,” I said, peeling some of the white coating off the cake. “It gives people more impressions of what’s on the inside. If it’s smooth and expertly applied, it makes people think what’s on the inside must be good. It’s like no one expects a serial killer to look like an Abercrombie model.”

  He chuckles again. “Is that why you used to wear so much makeup?”

  “Maybe.” I had never thought of it like that, but he had a point. Maybe I disliked my inside so much I tried to hide it behind a mountain of makeup.

  “What’s the next layer?”

  “The frosting holding the pieces of cake together,” I said. “The frosting is where you finally get to something real. It’s intricately connected to the cake and influences how it tastes. All that meaningless fluff on the outside hides the cake, but the frosting is what ties it all together. It’s what makes us do what we do.”

  “What’s my frosting?” he asked.

  “Anger, guilt, resentment, hatred.”

  “Yours?”

  “Same thing.”

  “You don’t hate anyone,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Well, Sheila, but that’s understandable.”

  “That’s the final layer. The cake itself. That’s the whole essence of who we are.”

  “And exactly who are we?”

  “Two people who hate ourselves. Which you would never know by looking at our sprinkles and icing,” I said, holding up my half-eaten cake for emphasis. “We look like normal, well-adjusted teens. We can have normal conversations and fool people, but it’s there, always bubbling under the surface.”

  “Without your bracelet sprinkles, your icing might give people a clue,” he said, running his fingers along my bloody forearm.

  “You know what I mean, though.”

  “You think we should look more messed up on the outside so people will know how messed up we are on the inside?”

  “Yes … No. It just makes it hard because people rarely go past the icing. Y
ou and I have gotten down to the frosting and cake level. That’s why we help each other. That and we’re the same disgusting flavor of cake.”

  “Is this your way of telling me we’re good for each other?”

  I smiled, scooting closer to him so I could lean my head on his shoulder. “I guess so.”

  “I already knew that, but it’s nice to hear you say we’re the same disgusting flavor of cake. That might be the best thing a girl has ever said to me.”

  He moved his thumb under my chin and lifted it slightly so I was looking into his eyes. His stare was intense once again and my breath caught in my throat. The reaction from the dual-cutting must have remained with me because in that moment, I wanted to kiss him. I had never felt like that before.

  Without a word, he lowered his lips to mine. I’ve kissed a lot of boys in my lifetime, but none compared to that moment. The earlier contentment was quickly replaced by a rush of intense heat and longing.

  He tugged on my lower lip, his warm breath mixing with mine. I pushed myself up so I could touch his face. My thumb traced along his cheekbone where he got hurt earlier and then around to the back of his neck.

  “Chris will kill us if she finds us,” I murmured.

  “I’ll see her headlamp before she gets here,” he said, rotating us slightly so he was facing the campfire in the distance. His lips crushed against mine more urgently and I responded automatically, pushing myself closer to him. He grabbed my legs and moved my knees so I was straddling him. A soft moan escaped my lips and I felt him smile in response.

  His hands trailed down my back and then under my shirt. I shivered as they made their way to the front, tracing delicate patterns, but then he stopped. His movement became more focused as his hands ran in straight lines across my belly. He was feeling the scars there.

  “Anywhere else?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He lifted the edge of my shirt and lowered his lips to one of the more recent cuts below my belly button. My back arched in response to his touch. Never before had one kiss had such an effect on me.

  “I want you,” I said urgently.

  “Yeah?” He moved his hands towards my chest.

  “Now.” I untucked his shirt.

  “We can’t,” he said, but didn’t stop my hands.

  “We’ll be fast. Chris won’t even know.” I unbuttoned his pants, exposing his boxers.

  When I reached for the material, he grabbed my hand. Pulling it up to his mouth, he kissed my fingers one at a time. “We can’t,” he repeated.

  “Why?” I asked breathlessly, trying to reach his boxers with my other hand.

  “I don’t want you kicked out and I don’t have any condoms.”

  “I’m on the pill,” I said, slipping my hand under the elastic band.

  He took a deep breath and then groaned. “You’re killing me, Mal.”

  I leaned forward and planted my lips on his again while I allowed my body to drop onto his lap. His hands slid down to my ass and pulled me closer. We both moaned as our bodies reacted to the movement.

  “You’re coming around, I see.” I tried to lift his shirt over his head.

  “Damn. No.” He stopped my progress. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.” He picked me up and sat me down next to him.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  “You really are gay?”

  He leaned over and passionately explored my mouth with his own. When he came up for air, he said, “No.”

  “You’re a tease.”

  “Not usually, no. There are other things to think about here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I don’t want to be responsible for you spending your senior year in military school.”

  “It might be worth it.”

  Even in the darkness, I could see his smirk. I ran my fingers along his knee and under the fabric of his shorts.

  “You’re distracting me,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “Good.”

  “I really need to tell you something.”

  I grabbed his hand and put it high on my thigh. “Go ahead.”

  “I—I …” His fingers kneaded my muscles.

  “Yes?”

  “God, I’ve never wanted someone this much.”

  “I’m all yours.”

  He lay down on the rock and pulled me on top of him. Our bodies immediately molded together like they were meant to be.

  “We need to remove some clothes first,” I said, sliding my hands beneath me to reach his pants again.

  He allowed me to fumble for a few moments before he flipped us over so I was on the rock and he was hovering above me.

  “This is easier,” I said, reaching for the waistband of his shorts. This time, I got them over his hips before he stopped me.

  “What?” I groaned.

  “I really need to tell you something.”

  “What?” Since I was getting nowhere with his pants, I moved over to mine and unzipped them.

  “I—I’m going to miss you.”

  I paused. That wasn’t what I was expecting. “We’ll keep in touch, right?”

  “Of course.”

  My pants were halfway down my ass and he was looking at my face, not my panties. “This isn’t going to happen is it?”

  “No.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes, willing my mind and body to accept that. After a few moments, my heart no longer beat out of my chest and my breathing became regular again. We both zipped up our shorts and then he held me in his lap for the next couple hours as the storm clouds Chris warned us about started rolling in. I saw a headlamp approach us a few times but it never got too close. That made me think Chris was keeping an eye on us. It probably was a good thing nothing more happened between me and JC or I would have received a one-way ticket to military school.

  There wasn’t much talking while we sat there holding each other. I’m not sure either of us knew what to say. The next day was going to suck. There was no way around it.

  Eventually, Chris came all the way to the rocky ledge and told us we had ten minutes until lights out. JC walked me to my tent and then gave me another kiss. “Goodnight, Mal.”

  Chris watched, but didn’t say anything as I entered my tent and JC went to Neeky’s.

  Chapter 24: August 25

  “you said you didn’t have those sorts of feelings for him,” Marta says, back to knitting. I had given her the high-level review of what happened rather than the play-by-play.

  “That was the only time something like that happened. I think it was the result of me cutting him. I was never drawn to him in that way before then.”

  “Your feelings were a result of cutting him?”

  I nod.

  “But I thought you said you didn’t feel the normal rush while cutting. It wasn’t until he held your hand that you felt something.”

  “It was weird,” I admit.

  She shakes her head and her lips curl into the faintest smile. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “Not if you’re going to tell me I’m a terrible person for hurting him.”

  “Of course not, cariño. He asked you to do it.” She drops her knitting needles and takes my hand in both of hers. “I think what you felt had nothing to do with cutting.”

  I tilt my head and stare at her, not quite sure what she’s trying to say.

  “I think, in that moment and the rest of the night, you felt something more than friendship for him. I think you loved him.”

  I roll my eyes and snicker at her comment.

  “You can laugh, but hear me out on this. Before any of this started, let’s say a year ago, would you have sat perfectly still while someone cut your arm?”

  “I—I don’t know. Maybe if it was Jenna. Someone I trusted.”

  “Yes. Trust. He was showing you that he had complete and utter trust in you.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to see if it felt good.”

  “Or try to better understand you.”<
br />
  “What’s any of this have to do with love?”

  “How many times in your life has someone showed complete and utter trust in you and cared enough about you to want to understand what you were thinking and feeling?”

  I open my mouth, ready to give her a quick answer, but no sound comes out. We both know the answer so there’s no need to speak.

  “He wanted to see you. The whole you. The good, the bad, and the ugly, and let you know that he accepted you. Every last bit of you.”

  My mind tries to process her words. He didn’t act any different towards me after I cut him. He really did accept me. The real me.

  “Of course, that’s just my humble opinion,” Marta says.

  “Omigod,” I whisper slowly. Could my nanny be right? Could she see something that I was blind to? Something that I’ve never experienced before.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, too stunned to speak.

  “What are you thinking?” Marta asks after a few moments.

  I shake my head as the words form in my mouth. She might be right. “I might love him. Loved him,” I whisper. I’m staring straight ahead at the fireplace. I can’t believe I didn’t see that before.

  “We need to find this boy so you can tell him how you feel.”

  “W—we can’t,” I mumble, cradling my head in my hands.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s dead.” I killed everyone I loved. First Jenna and then JC.

  “Dead?!” she exclaims with concern. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Sheila …” I try to remember exactly what happened, but it’s a bit of a blur. The storm had subsided, but even without the thunder and wind it was loud and chaotic. People yelling, the helicopter arriving, EMTs preparing. Sheila tried pushing me into the car, but I resisted. I had to see what happened. She never gave me that chance.

  “What did she say?” Marta asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

  “She …” I pause because her words are what broke me. They’re what sent me to the padded room for a week. As much as I want to feel something while I’m on these drugs, remembering that night could be pushing my luck.

  “Go on.”

  With a big gulp, I mumble, “She told me they found his body in the river.”

  Marta sighs and shakes her head. “Dios mio. Tell me exactly what happened.”