Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series)

by Thrasher, Travis

  Maybe it won’t be the darkness. There will be other things to battle.

  Time.

  Indifference.

  Forgetting.

  Life.

  Look at your parents. At your uncle. At the whole rest of the world, Chris.

  I’ll stay by her side.

  But what will be the point, when in the end you’ll surely fail?

  I tell her I’ll always be there.

  But is your love strong enough?

  It can be.

  Will it be strong enough?

  125. Maker and Judge

  We found a side road leading to Sable Road. Kelsey can barely keep going. Not because she’s bleeding to death, but simply because she’s so tired. She doesn’t remember anything from the last few days. I just keep encouraging her to keep going.

  Headlights coming toward us give me hope. Until I see the car swaying back and forth. Thirty yards before getting to us, the vehicle runs off the road and crashes into the bank.

  I stand still with Kelsey, watching to see what happens.

  A door opens, and the interior light comes on. It’s an SUV.

  I think I know that SUV.

  Then someone gets out—no, make that falls out of the car.

  Someone who is groaning and calling out my name.

  “Chris. Help me, Chris.”

  Of all the people to come to our rescue tonight, and all the people for me to hear those words from …

  Jeremiah Marsh is not the one who would come to mind.

  “Chris, please,” he shouts in agony.

  “Stay here for a minute,” I say to Kelsey.

  I look around and don’t see anybody else.

  This could be a setup, Chris.

  Then I change my mind and take Kelsey’s hand. “No, come with me.”

  We walk over to the figure sprawled out in the road. Marsh is wincing in pain, holding his gut and midsection.

  “Heidi did this to me. She finally decided to fight back. Because she was in love. Because I killed her one true love.”

  I look inside the SUV.

  “Get in the car, Kelsey,” I tell her. I lead her around the body just in case he suddenly gets a surge of energy.

  She climbs in, then I look over at Marsh.

  “Save me,” Marsh says. “I know you saved her, didn’t you? She wouldn’t still be standing if you hadn’t gone to the falls? Right?”

  “I didn’t save anybody. God did.”

  Marsh spits and laughs. “You stupid fool. The only thing I wanted to do was free you. You have no idea. She’ll bring you down, Chris. She’ll be a noose to your life.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.” He coughs uncontrollably and curses again. “I tried, Chris. I tried everything in my power to make you believe. But the only thing I couldn’t have ever foreseen was you falling in love with that stupid girl. Then going on a mission to find out why she died.”

  “You’re the reason she died.”

  “She would have ruined you, just like this girl will ruin you. That’s what happens. This is what happens.” He holds out a bloody hand.

  “Jocelyn helped save me.”

  “You say that now, Chris. But when a gun or a knife is aimed at your head, or at someone you love, you’ll say something different. Just like back there at the church.”

  I don’t say anything, because this time he’s right. I failed. I got scared and said whatever I could to save Kelsey.

  He moans and tries to hold his gut as if it’s leaking and falling out. He mumbles something I don’t understand.

  “Please, Chris, please,” he says. “I’ll do anything. I’ll be a better man. I’ll go away. Just, please … have mercy.”

  I’ve heard enough of this man’s lies. I shake my head as he crawls over to my feet and grabs the leg of my jeans. Then he starts crying.

  “I wanted us—I wanted to live as long as I could—I wanted to just take—I just wanted to make all this awful stuff inside go away. You gotta understand—please, Chris, have mercy. Please. Forgive me like your God would forgive me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not your maker. And I’m not your judge.”

  I jerk my leg out of his grip and head to the SUV. Marsh begins to scream and cry out, but I shut the door and back up the car. Then I head back the other way toward Solitary and away from this dying man.

  126. Coming Out Party

  So we drive off and never see anybody ever and I mean ever again.

  Wonderful thought. But nope.

  I drive a woozy but very much alive Kelsey back to my cabin. I’m heading there because I’m afraid for Mom and wondering what’s going to happen next.

  Next, it seems, has already knocked on our door and come inside.

  Next seems to have woken up the entire town.

  It starts with the five cop cars lining our street and driveway. It looks like more are ahead, blocking the street.

  I know that Solitary doesn’t even have five cop cars.

  Then our doors open and people greet us, and I see Mr. Page rush to hug his daughter. Mom is standing on the deck and calls out my name. Then I see Poe, of all people. Then Newt. And I have this great thought that this would be a really cool surprise party, except that it’s not my birthday.

  Mom comes down to hug me and tell me that it’s finally okay. She tells me that these people are with the FBI and it links back to Poe and the agent she spoke with and the missing body and Newt backing up her story and my head hurts from hearing all this.

  Then she says, “They arrested Staunch.”

  Staunch is still alive.

  But Kinner and Marsh are dead.

  I go over to Kelsey while Mr. Page thanks me. I guess now everybody knows that they were living next to the boogeyman.

  And it took ME to finally show all of you?

  I’d kinda like to say that, but I’m too tired.

  There’s a doctor looking over Kelsey.

  I stay next to her and hold her hand.

  Mom tells me she knows what happened to Uncle Robert. I mention the bleeding body of Marsh that I left behind, and a little later someone tells us that he was found dead.

  A million questions, and now all the answers feel like …

  Empty.

  It’s after midnight, and this coming-out party for Solitary is still raging.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Tell us again what happened.”

  “And who else was there?”

  I tell them I’m okay and tell them again what happened and who else was there.

  “Has anybody seen Brick?” I ask.

  Nobody has.

  I tell them everything.

  Well, almost everything.

  I leave out the part about Kelsey being sliced and almost bleeding to death. And the whole part about getting to Marsh Falls. I just said that we ran for the hills.

  A crazy cult can be explained. But other things—there’s no explanation.

  There’s only faith.

  All this time and all these questions and finally, as Memorial Day becomes a new day, the world knows. And the world is doing something about it too.

  For a moment I shut my eyes. Yeah, I’m tired, but I’m also thankful. I never thought I’d be sitting by the fireplace in this cabin surrounded by so many people and feeling so completely and totally thankful.

  I open my eyes and see Kelsey. She smiles at me.

  127. Well, It’s About Time

  The last person I expect to see around here is Sheriff Wells. He’s no longer the sheriff, and as far as I knew he’d taken off. His place in the story of Solitary was no longer important or n
ecessary, so off he went.

  Turns out I was wrong about him.

  After heading to the hospital with Kelsey and her father just to make sure she’s okay, I’m questioned again by several officials, including someone from the FBI. Wells is a part of this group, and it turns out he’s working with them now. I say everything I know without adding any details that might not be believed. Like pretty much everything to do with Marsh Falls.

  After an exhausting hour of talking, Wells says he’ll take me home. My bike is still somewhere between the torched church building and the falls. It’s five in the morning, and the sheriff asks me if I’m hungry. The very mention of food makes my stomach rumble, so I say yes, and we go to the hospital cafeteria.

  I sip some coffee just to wake up and go to work on a huge omelet. While I eat, Wells tells me how heroic I was to stand up to Marsh and the others.

  “Thanks,” I say, not feeling very heroic at the moment.

  “Do you know what did it for me, what finally made me believe that you weren’t making all of this up?” Wells asks.

  I can only shake my head.

  “It was when you saw that man in the alley. Remember? The one who looked like his face had been torn off?”

  For a second I wonder if this is part of the questioning.

  “It’s okay,” Wells says. “This is unofficial. Nobody would believe me. Or you. But that man you said you saw—I know who that was. His name was Roger Epal. He worked with Staunch and did some of his dirty work for him until he decided to try and blackmail Staunch for not sharing his secrets. Staunch did that to him.”

  “So that man—he was real? I really saw that?”

  Sheriff Wells nods, then shakes his head. “Confusing, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “That happened five years ago. Epal died. Staunch literally beat the life out of the man. That’s what he looked like when I found him. How you described him.”

  “So then—what—”

  “I covered it up. Said nothing. Epal was a sleaze, so I didn’t have any guilt about that. But that was when I realized what Staunch was capable of.”

  “Will he be able to get out of this?”

  “No,” Wells says. “We have too much on him. What they found on his property alone—and that’s not including his house. The testimony from you and others. There’s no way. He’s not going to just get bail and go back to his nice little life. He’s done, Chris. Thanks to you.”

  Wells looks as tired as I feel. He sips his coffee while watching me eat.

  I don’t want to explain the vision to him. Or ask what he thinks of it. I don’t want to talk about it at all.

  “What’s going to happen next?” I ask.

  Wells sighs. “I suggest that you keep a low profile. Because the world is going to hear soon about all this craziness. People are going to ask you for interviews.”

  “Mom and I are leaving. At least, soon enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll do anything I can to help you, Chris.”

  “With what?”

  “Anything.”

  128. The Road Never Traveled

  There are still unexplained mysteries, of course.

  Starting with where my motorcycle went.

  It’s midday, and I’m standing near the burnt remains of the church Pastor Marsh built. The upside-down stone cross is still upright, surrounded by the scorched woods. I think that Kinner ordered this church built. But Marsh wanted to get rid of Kinner and the rest of his followers with a mass murder, offering up everyone as sacrifices.

  Everyone but me.

  At least that’s the idea that’s been talked about. Five other people died in the fire, including Principal Harking.

  What Marsh intended to do with me, had I accepted Kinner’s proposal and killed him myself … who knows?

  It makes as much sense as the path I took to get to Marsh Falls. In the daylight, I can see that there really is no such path. It’s grown over with bushes and small trees. There’s no way in the world I could have ridden my bike through it. It’s as if the path suddenly disappeared.

  Like the road to the Crag’s Inn.

  Regardless of what happened to it, I head down the path into the woods on foot. Brick is waiting for me back at the burned-down church; he drove me out here because he wanted to see the wreckage himself.

  I walk for a couple of miles before realizing that there’s no motorcycle to find. This isn’t the road less traveled by—this is the road long forgotten.

  But I know I came down here, and I know that it took me to Marsh Falls.

  When I get back to Brick, who’s leaning against his car and smoking a cigarette, he waits for a verdict on the bike. I just shake my head in disbelief.

  “I saw you head straight ahead through those woods,” Brick says.

  “So I’m not crazy?”

  He takes a drag and shakes his head. “Nope.”

  We look at the dense woods that surely hold many secrets.

  “You don’t look surprised,” I say.

  “I just rescued you from a pastor who torched his church and tried to burn off his congregation. So yeah, nothing much is probably ever gonna surprise me again. Like ever.”

  I want to laugh, but everything is still too raw. People died in this fire right next to us. It could have been us. It could have been Kelsey.

  “That’s just a shame,” Brick says to me.

  “The church?”

  “What, that? No. I’m talking about the bike. That thing was priceless.”

  “If I still owned it, I’d give it to you. In a heartbeat.”

  “You wouldn’t have to do that.”

  “I owe you my life. And Kelsey’s life.”

  “You don’t owe me. Think it’s the big guy in heaven that helped you out.”

  “You believe in God?”

  Brick rubs his buzzed head and then chuckles. “After this … yeah, definitely. But I think it’s going to take me a while before I want to hear another preacher preachin’ behind the pulpit. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah. I do. Unfortunately.”

  Brick is the only one who knows that I took a bleeding and dying Kelsey into the woods to get to Marsh Falls. He’s only ever asked me how she’s doing—not how she survived.

  Most people would want to know and then want it explained over and over again. But people around Solitary, people like Brick, don’t seem to need long explanations. I think they just get it.

  I take a look at the upside-down cross still standing amidst the charred wood. I look at it for a long time, a symbol of something twisted and evil, surrounded by soot and ashes. Abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say.

  129. Waiting to Exhale

  I assume we’re just going to pack up our things and leave Solitary as planned. But life is never that simple.

  Things are put on hold because of the whole pastor-trying-to-kill-us situation, which has left not just Solitary but the country mesmerized. I see reports on the evening news where reporters are talking in front of the burnt church or in downtown Solitary. People keep trying to interview Mom and me, but Mom thankfully keeps them away. I have to get rid of my Facebook page because of all the requests and comments.

  All of this happens while Mom plans Uncle Robert’s funeral. Dad is driving down and will be here soon. I ask her if she really needs to have a funeral, considering everything, and she answers a big-time yes by ignoring my question.

  Kelsey is back home, dealing with the same thing—a world knocking on her door after hearing that she was involved with Marsh and Staunch. The good thing is that she and I are both seventeen, so there are certain laws protecting our privacy.

  So we keep goi
ng, and we start to …

  You know what?

  Enough.

  All of that stuff, that outside stuff, that noise in the background—none of it matters.

  I could go on and on about it, but it doesn’t matter a bit.

  I unplug the headphones so I don’t hear any of it.

  I turn down the volume and focus on Mom and Kelsey.

  My mother just lost her brother and almost lost her son.

  This girl who’s crazy about me finally discovered why I was a little worried about her hanging around with me. Yet she still doesn’t remember anything about her abduction.

  The news makes for exciting headlines, but the reality is that I don’t want to be a story. I don’t want to be the face of a victim or the figure in the middle of it all.

  I just count the seconds until I’m away from this place. Part of me keeps waiting for Staunch to break out of jail and come knocking on my door with some random object in his hand ready to strike out and kill.

  The outside still seems to be hostile and threatening. It’s like a wild animal waiting for its moment, holding its breath in the darkness.

  I won’t exhale until I’m finally gone.

  130. True Faith

  All these deaths, yet this is the first funeral I’ve been to.

  We’re at a small church just outside of North Carolina, about half an hour away from Solitary. Mom said that her parents attended this church years ago, but really, I think she just wanted a church far away from this town. A church specifically out of North Carolina.

  There’s only a handful of people here. There’s not much to say. Even Mom doesn’t want to say anything about her brother. I guess when things end up the way they did, there’s nothing to say. But there is a body to lay to rest.

  Kelsey and her parents are by my side. Dad is here as well.

  As we stand around the grave site, I stare at a tall figure in black who looks like a widow grieving her husband. Heidi Marsh is in fact grieving, but the tears on her face are for the wrong guy. At least, the wrong guy technically.

  I can’t help but think of Jocelyn and the makeshift gravestone I made for her. She deserved so much more.