Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series)

by Thrasher, Travis

  Acting more like a couple teenagers might.

  It’s kind of amusing. At least for now. I just hope this doesn’t last for long.

  They’re still my parents. And the last thing I want is to see them suddenly making out.

  No thanks.

  73. Prayers

  I have to get it out there. I don’t want to make a big deal, but I know I have to tell him.

  He’s going to be leaving pretty soon. The last couple of days have been good. Strange but good. Okay—really, really strange, but also pretty good.

  And I just know I need to tell him.

  It goes something like this.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Yeah?” He’s reading USA Today like he always did at home. But this time he moves the paper away so I have his full attention.

  Mom’s gone grocery shopping but will be coming back before he leaves. That’s another reason why now’s the right time.

  “I just wanted to let you know something.”

  But I’m not sure how to let you know. It seems private and personal and nobody else’s business.

  But it’s Dad’s business because it’s partly due to Dad.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “I just—the stuff about you and being a Christian and all that. I’m—I mean it’s okay. It’s all right now.”

  He looks puzzled and smiles and nods. I’m babbling, and I know it.

  “No, what I want to say is that I—that I believe. That I’m—things have changed. Between God and me. For the better.”

  Dad’s face changes. He looks glad. Surprised but glad.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” he says.

  I nod and shrug, and now I want to just get away. I could say more, but I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know how to say it because I’m not sure what to do and how to do it and how this whole thing—

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just keep praying, asking for God’s guidance. When I suddenly opened my eyes and saw the world in a whole new light, it was overwhelming. But don’t let it be too overwhelming. Be happy. Be thankful. Know that there’s more to this world than just the here and now. There’s more than just this life.”

  “I think I tell myself that everyday. Mostly because I hate Solitary.”

  Dad laughs. He doesn’t realize I’m serious. “Prayer works, Chris. I know. I’ve been praying for you guys ever since you left. I’ve been praying that God will bring both of you to Him. And back to me.”

  He doesn’t finish by saying it’s happened and that we’re going to drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Even Dad knows better than to say that.

  But I don’t need him to say any more.

  Dad prayed, and God heard those prayers.

  Somehow, God brought Mom and me closer to Him.

  Maybe not in the way I would have chosen, but it happened.

  74. Freeze

  Maybe it would be good to freeze this moment in time.

  The second week in March. A bright and warm morning where the birds wake up singing and somehow ignoring the fact that they’re stuck in Solitary. A fun and relaxing ride to school on Uncle Robert’s motorcycle. Seeing Kelsey for the first time since before spring break, noticing that she looks more beautiful than she did when she left as I hug her and then feel her give me a kiss on the cheek.

  The classes seem lighter and quicker.

  The food in the cafeteria seems to taste better.

  The blue in Kelsey’s eyes seems brighter.

  Harris’s stories seem funnier.

  Even Newt seems taller.

  I share the news about my parents with Kelsey. And doing this makes me realize that it really has had a big impact on me. Things seem to be better. My life seems to have a future. A better one.

  All of this is wonderful.

  All of this is temporary, because April is going to morph into May, and the joy is going to morph into some newfound pain.

  The open skies are going to cloud up and start pouring down hurt and anguish into my life.

  That’s what the voice deep, deep down says.

  That’s why I drown it out with Kelsey and school and the wind and the skies and everything around me.

  Chrissssssss.

  The voice is always there. The memories and the beating heart of fear.

  Chrisssssss.

  I want to lock this day down and never move on. Or fast forward to September or December.

  Maybe you’ll never see them.

  This is the voice of fear, the voice of something evil, the voice of something empty.

  Maybe this will be the last joyous day of your miserable little life.

  When the sun sets and the darkness creeps in, the voices come.

  Dad is back in Illinois, attending classes at a Bible college and dreaming of the future. Mom is back working at Brennan’s, dreaming of the future. Midnight is next to me on the couch, dreaming of hot dogs.

  And I’m here, not wanting the dreams to come.

  I’m here, wanting the day not to fade away.

  But the sun always sets, and the nightmares always arrive.

  75. Nowhere Fast

  I’m already having a bad day when Pastor Marsh shows up.

  Just call him Marsh because he’s no pastor.

  It’s a gray, cool March morning, and I’m feeling groggy and totally incapable of being happy and thankful like Dad suggested. Watching the news reminds me that it’s not just Solitary that’s messed up, but it’s this world. There are riots in the streets and wars in other countries, and a mother is suspected of killing her two-year-old daughter.

  It’s enough to make you not want to open your door and go outside.

  Why go outside when you have the joys of Facebook at your fingertips right here in the house?

  My classes suck, and the teachers are killing us with homework and exams, and college is laughing at me from afar. Even Kelsey seems different, because she’s feeling the overload herself, and she’s a straight-A student.

  So when I see Marsh standing there looking all high and mighty I want to throw up on him.

  Then I notice he’s standing by Mr. Meiners, and I get a little worried.

  “Chris, just the man I wanted to see.”

  It’s lunchtime, and I was looking forward to a nice break with Kelsey. But nope—doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

  Mr. Meiners just says hi and returns to his classroom.

  “Let’s go grab a burger,” Marsh says.

  “I really can’t.”

  He laughs, then quickly nods and says, “Yes, you can.”

  I don’t have a choice.

  I put my books in my locker and leave with the pastor. Several students greet him. Unfortunately I don’t see Kelsey to tell her I’m going. I’ll text her when I get outside.

  I get in Marsh’s car, and he heads to the closest fast-food place, a burger joint that I’ve only eaten at once because it’s really bad. I order a burger and fries, but I don’t feel like eating them. Marsh only orders an iced tea. We sit in a booth away from the other diners in the small eating area.

  “You’re starting to disappoint me, Chris.”

  Here we go.

  Both of his hands hold the plastic cup, and I notice how girly his hands look. They’re soft and thin.

  Those same hands slit my wrist, didn’t they?

  “I hate being disappointed,” Marsh says.

  “What’d I do now?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  I want to tell him that I only have one father, thank you very much. But I know I can’t.

  “Your mother came home in one piece, didn’t sh
e?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “So why then are you continuing to play with fire?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Chris—”

  “Is this about Jared?”

  He slaps the table suddenly, and the crack it makes startles me. For a brief second I see a wild look on his face, an expression I can’t remember seeing before. It’s brief, but I know I saw it. He clears his throat and smiles at me.

  “Don’t blame others, Chris. This is about you. Just … you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why would you go visit that group?”

  “Which one?”

  He curses and then moves his head so that he can whisper to me. “You know exactly which group I’m talking about. This is why people are getting very irritated by your actions, and why I won’t be able to do anything about their response. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” he snaps in a controlled whisper. “No, you don’t understand. You’re still out there trying to do it your way. When will you learn? Huh? Tell me that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Marsh laughs. “What a lie. You’re not even mildly sorry. But these people, Chris—Staunch and others—they can make anybody sorry for anything. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, but you tend to forget. And I don’t know if that’s because you think you’re untouchable or what.”

  “No.”

  “Because you’re not,” Marsh says. “You’re very touchable, I promise you. Their patience is running out. Staunch will do whatever he has to—and believe me, he has when he’s not restrained. He’s a big bull, that one. But he does what Kinner tells him to. He’s Kinner’s hands and voice. I’m just trying to bide our time.”

  I notice the words he uses.

  Our time.

  “And what do you think you’re doing with the girl?”

  I’m about ready to say who, but decide that I shouldn’t. “What about her?”

  “What about her? Why is there a ‘her’ to begin with? Haven’t you learned?”

  “You said that she wouldn’t be harmed.”

  Marsh curses, but this time it seems like it’s to himself. He glances out the window and then around the restaurant. Nobody is paying us any attention, and even if they were, I doubt Marsh would care.

  “I’m trying to figure you out, and I just don’t seem able to. I mean—I first thought you just wanted the hottest girl around for one reason. That your so-called ‘nobility’ is more due to fear and hesitation. But then this comes along. Where do you see this thing going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I can tell you where it’s going,” Marsh says. “Nowhere fast. You need to end things with her.”

  I begin to shake my head, and Marsh shakes his like he’s frantically copying me.

  “Do you want her to end up like Jocelyn or Lily? Do you?”

  “But you said—”

  “It doesn’t matter what I say. You believe anything coming out of my mouth, and half the time I’m just making something up to shut you up or try to stop you from doing something even more stupid. This isn’t a love story, Chris. Eventually you can find the things you need—and yes, down the road you can even convince yourself it’s love, if that’s what you need, though it will never last. But you can’t have that now.”

  “Why?”

  Marsh sits up and tightens his jaw. “Maybe for starters because I say so.”

  He looks like he could easily take those girly hands of his and strangle me without a bit of hesitation.

  He sits back and sips his tea and seems to gain control of his anger. “You don’t want anything to happen to her, right?”

  I nod.

  “Then you politely and calmly end it.”

  My heart starts beating, and my mind starts racing.

  “You do it this week. Kinner is concerned for you, Chris. Kelsey and her family are all believers, and that worries him. That, along with you going to visit that group in the woods. I mean—what’s going on with you, Chris?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Is that girl having that much influence on you? Are you feeling guilt for late-night longings you have for her? Or for the things you’ve seen that you’ve kept from others? Things like what happened to Jocelyn. And Lily. What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “I think you know. Look—I’ve had my moments, and I can understand. But Kinner doesn’t. So the solution is you break it off with Kelsey. You won’t be trying to convince her to sleep with you, and you won’t be having doubts and confusion and all that nonsense. I mean—don’t you see it’s just nonsense? Guilt and fear and frustration. The only thing that faith gives you is guilt. And that’s what I’ve been telling you all this time. I can find a way for you to let go and be free.”

  Liar.

  This man across from me doesn’t look like he’s ever let anything go. And he sure doesn’t look free.

  For a moment he waits for me to respond, but I don’t.

  “End things with Kelsey, or Staunch will end things his way. You understand? Look at me. In the eyes. Do you understand?”

  I force myself to look at him.

  I want to kill this man and end all the pain and suffering he’s brought to this town and these people. And to me and my family.

  “Yes,” I say. “I understand.”

  I understand that one day I’m going to kill you, you sick freak.

  “You have a little over two months to go. You don’t need to be worrying about Kelsey and her broken little heart. You’ll find you have to deal with enough on your own.”

  He smiles.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on. I gotta take you back to school. Don’t want to break any rules, do we?”

  76. Magical

  I’m tired. Tired of people telling me what to do, what not to do, what I have to feel, what I’m supposed to be.

  I’m just tired.

  It’s late and I should be sleeping, but I’m staring at that picture of me that I once found, that happy carefree guy smiling in the sun.

  Did someone give this to me to taunt me, to show me a snapshot of someone I’ll never be able to become?

  I look at the picture of the woods with the Robert Frost line on it.

  Then I stare at the beaming and bright picture of Kelsey on her Facebook profile. She’s happy and carefree.

  I should never have gotten close. Should’ve known better. Should’ve been more careful.

  For a long time that night, I stare at her.

  Thinking what to do.

  Thinking what to say.

  The next day, I come to school with a plan.

  I still don’t know if they have spies planted everywhere. Or if I’m bugged in my boxers and my backpack and my lunch bag. I don’t know.

  Somehow in some way they have known my every step ever since I’ve come to Solitary.

  They.

  Staunch, Marsh, Great-grandfather Kinner.

  Whoever else is part of they.

  So I have to be careful.

  But they got Jared to keep an eye on me. So they don’t know everything.

  That’s right.

  They got Lily to try and do the same. To try and control me.

  That almost worked.

  I know there’s no way they can read my mind. Because if they could, they’d already know the truth: this faith I have is real even if it’s just a spark. A spark that’s started melting away the hard ice around my heart.

  They don’t know.

  But there might be a time coming soon when they will ask and I will have to make a choice whether to admit the truth or not.

  I’
m not there yet. It’s the end of March, and I’m going to tell Kelsey the truth. As much as I can.

  It’s a warm spring day, and after lunch as we’re walking toward our lockers, I ask Kelsey the question.

  “Have you ever skipped a class?”

  She looks surprised. I know her answer before she says, “No. Why?”

  “I want you—no, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  We’re walking slowly, like any other day. I whisper, “I need you to come somewhere with me.”

  “Where?” Kelsey looks a bit amused.

  “Just somewhere. But it needs to be now.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Chris—what’s going on?”

  “I need you to trust me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then just keep walking to your locker. Then act like you normally do, except instead of going to your next class, go outside and meet me in the parking lot.”

  “But I have to—”

  “Kelsey, please.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll explain.”

  “Explain what?” She looks nervous now. “Chris?”

  “I can’t. Not here.”

  She looks at me for a long time and then nods.

  She means it when she says she trusts me. Which is good, because she’s going to have to keep trusting me a lot.

  I go to my locker and then walk to my trigonometry class but don’t go inside. I keep walking, making sure nobody is following me.

  I wait in the parking lot for a few minutes, then see Kelsey coming down the steps toward me. I can’t help but smile. She seems to bounce.

  If you only knew.

  She climbs on the motorcycle behind me, and I drive off.

  It takes about fifteen minutes to get to Marsh Falls.

  We park at the edge of the woods and then head toward the base of the falls. I’m not pulling any sort of wild stunt like slashing my wrists and showing Kelsey how they heal or anything like that. But somehow, for some reason, this seems like a safe place to come. Or at least a mysterious middle ground.