Текст книги "The Redemption of Callie and Kayden"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter 2
#22 Make a decision that frightens you
Kayden
Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is Callie. Callie. Callie.
Callie. I can almost feel the softness of her hair and skin, taste her, smell the scent of her shampoo. I miss her so fucking badly I can’t
breathe sometimes. If I could sleep forever, I would, just so I could hold onto the one thing that makes me happy. But eventually I
have to open my eyes and face the reality I put on myself.
The torture.
The brokenness.
What’s left of my life.
I probably don’t deserve to think about Callie, not after what
I did, after she found me… like that. She knows my secret now, the
darkest one I’ve hidden inside me since I was a kid, the one that’s
the biggest part of me. The worst part of it is that she didn’t hear it from me. She heard it from my mother.
It’s for the best, though. Callie can go on living her life and
she can be happy not having to deal with my problems. I’ll stay
here and keep my eyes shut and hold onto the memory of her for
as long as I can because that’s what keeps me breathing.
* * *
I’d never been afraid of death. My dad started beating the
shit out of me when I was young and an early death always kind of
seemed inevitable. Then Callie entered my life and my acceptance
of an early death was wrecked. I’m afraid of death now, something
I realized after I cut my arms. I can remember watching the blood
drip onto the floor and then staring at the bloody knife in my
hand. All this doubt and fear had washed through me and I’d
regretted it. But it had already been done. As I lay down on the
floor, all I could see was Callie’s sad face when she’d hear the news that I was dead. There would be no one to protect her from the
world if I was gone. And she needed protecting—deserved it more
than anyone. And I was such a fuckup that I couldn’t even give her
that.
About two weeks after the incident, I was transferred to the
Brayman’s Facility, which isn’t much better than the hospital. It’s
located over on the side of town near the garbage dump and an
old trailer park. The room is bare, with plain white walls, no
decorations and a stained linoleum floor. The air smells a little less sterilized, but the garbage dump odor drifts into my room
sometimes. There’s not so much death lingering over everyone’s
heads, but people really like to talk about it. I’ve been here for only a few days and I’m not sure when I’ll be ready to leave yet. I’m not
sure about a lot of things.
I’m lying in bed, which I do a lot, staring out the window,
wondering what Callie is doing right now. I hope something fun
that makes her happy and smile.
It’s almost time for my checkup so I slowly sit up in the bed,
placing my hand over my side where I was stitched up. The knife
miraculously missed my organs and it was actually the less severe
of my injuries. I was lucky. That’s what everyone kept telling me. I
was also lucky I didn’t cut any major arteries on my wrist. Lucky.
Lucky. Lucky. The word keeps getting thrown around, like
everyone’s trying to remind me how precious life is. I don’t believe
in luck though, and I’m not even sure I believe that surviving
means I’m lucky.
Several times while I was in the hospital, I thought about
telling someone what really happened, but I was so doped up on
painkillers that I couldn’t seem to clear my head enough to get
around to it. When the fog in my brain finally cleared, I saw the
situation for what it was. I’d just kicked Caleb’s ass, I was
considered unstable, and the scars on my body raised concern for
self-mutilation. I’d be going up against my father and I’d lose, like I always have. There was no point in telling anyone what really
happened. People would see only what they want to.
The nurse enters my room with my chart in her hand and a
cheery smile on her face. She’s older, with blonde hair and dark
roots, and she always has red lipstick on her teeth.
“How you doin’ today, hun?” she ask in a high voice, like I’m
a child. It’s the same tone the doctors use on me because I’m the
kid who tried to slit his wrists and then stabbed himself with a
kitchen knife.
“I’m fine,” I reply and take the little white pills she offers me. I
don’t know what they’re for, but I think they’re some kind of
sedative because every time I swallow them I fall in and out of
consciousness. Which is fine. It numbs the pain, and that’s all I’ve
ever wanted.
Ten minutes after the pills go down my throat, drowsiness
takes over and I lie down in the bed. I’m about to fall asleep when
the familiar scent of expensive perfume burns at my nostrils. I keep
my eyes shut. I don’t want to talk to her and pretend everything’s
okay and that my father didn’t stab me. I hate pretending that she
doesn’t know and that she’s worried about me.
“Kayden, are you awake?” she asks in a sedated tone, which
means she’s on something. She pokes my arm with her fingernail
and the gesture is rough and scratches my skin. I shut my eyes
tighter and cross my arms, wishing she would scrape it harder, cut
the skin open and erase everything I’m feeling.
“Kayden Owens.” Her sharp voice is like nails on a
chalkboard. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s
time to get your shit together. Get up, start eating better, and
prove to the doctors that you’re okay to come home.”
I say nothing and don’t open my eyes. I just listen to my
heart beat. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Her breathing accelerates. “Kayden Owens, I will not let you
ruin this family’s reputation. Now fix this mess.” She grabs the
blanket and flings it off me. “Get up, go to therapy, and prove
you’re not a threat to yourself.”
My eyelids gradually open and I turn my head toward her.
“What about dad? Is he still a threat to me?”
She looks like shit, dark circles under her eyes and she’s
wearing a heavy amount of makeup to try and cover it up. She’s
still all done up in a fancy red dress, with jewelry and a fur coat, her elaborate façade to hide the ugly in her life. “Your father did
nothing wrong. He was just upset at what you did.”
“You mean beating the shit out of Caleb,” I clarify as I put my
hands on the bed, push myself up, and lean against the
headboard.
Her eyes turn cold. “Yes, I mean that. Getting into fights is
not acceptable. You’re lucky Caleb’s okay. Although he’s still
deciding if he’s going to press charges. Your dad’s working on
trying to make a bargain with him.”
“What?” It feels like a thousand razor-sharp needles have slid
underneath my skin. “Why?”
“Because we’re not going to let you drag this family’s
reputation down the drain with your pathetic life. We’re going to
keep this as quiet as we can.”
“So you’re bribing him with money,” I utter through clenched
teeth. Fuck. I want to hit something hard, ram my fist into a metal
wall, split open my knuckles, and watch them bleed. I don’t want
my father taking care of this. I don’t want to owe him anything.
He’ll hold it over my head for the rest of my life. Fuck. This whole
situation is so messed up.
“Yes, with money,” she snaps and takes her makeup compact
out of her purse. “Your father’s hard-earned money, which you
should be very grateful for.”
“Let Caleb press charges.” I honestly don’t care anymore.
Almost every part of me has died and what’s still alive is just
waiting until the next incision. “I don’t give a shit. It’d be better than letting dad pay him off.”
She checks her reflection, pursing her lips, and then clicks the
compact shut. “You’re so ungrateful.” She storms toward the door,
her high heels clicking against the dingy linoleum. “You’re the
most frustrating child in the world. Your brothers never gave me
problems like this.”
That’s because they escaped during the storm and were
gone for the tornado. “I’m not a child.” I rotate onto my side and
close my eyes. “I’ve never really been a child.”
The click of her heels stops. She waits, like she expects me to
say something or wants to say something herself, but then the
clicking picks up again and soon she’s out in the hall. I let the
numbness of the pill slink into my body and drag me into the dark.
The last thing I see before I pass out is the most beautiful
blue-eyed, brown-haired girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. The only girl
who’s ever owned my heart and I hold onto the image with every
ounce of strength I have. Otherwise I’d probably lose the will to
breathe.
Callie
“I have a quick question,” I say to Luke. We’re standing in
front of the entrance to a small ice rink, getting ready to go
ice-skating, something we’ve both never done (which we admit to
each other on the car ride over here). It’s not too crowded, but
there are a few couples skating and holding hands and a girl
getting lessons in the center. “What happened in Professor
McGellon’s class?”
Luke shakes his head as he runs his hand over his shortly
shaven brown hair. “Did Seth put you up to that?”
I bend over to tighten the lace on my skate. “He mentioned
on the phone that I should ask you.”
He rolls his eyes as I stand up. “You really want to know?”
I hesitate at the note of warning in his tone, but decide to be
a bit of a daredevil and nod my head. “Yeah, I do. I guess.”
“I got caught doing… something in his class.” He ventures
out onto the rink and dips the toe of the skate down so the blade
cuts the ice. “With a girl.”
Seth and his need to push me out of my comfort zone. I’m
blushing, but I act like it’s just a flush from the frigid temperature, adding a shiver from my body. “By the professor?”
He progresses forward and his knees wobble as he inches
toward the middle of the rink where a girl is spinning in circles with her hands above her head. “No, by Seth.”
I grip onto the wall and edge out onto the ice, deciding it’s
probably best to change the subject before my cheeks ignite. “So
this is what people do to cheer themselves up?” With my hands
out to my side and my palms flat, I try to keep my balance as I
slide my feet across the rink.
Luke has his hands spanned to the side of himself, and his
knees are bent as he skates in a zigzag pattern. “That’s the rumor I
was told,” he says and reaches for the wall when he stumbles.
“By who?” I clutch onto the wall for support as my knees
begin to buckle and remain there briefly to let the poor people
behind me skate by.
He grins as his feet make a circular motion against the ice.
“By this hot chick I hooked up with the other night. She insisted
that we needed to go ice skating.”
I inhale a deep breath and fight back another blush creeping
across my cheeks. “Why didn’t you just bring her here then?”
He snorts a laugh. “What fun would that be? I like hanging
out with you, Callie. It’s relaxing.” He pushes his feet along the ice and attempts to skate backward but trips over his feet and slams
into the wall. His hand shoots out and he clutches onto the edge
of the plastic section.
“Are you okay?” I stifle a laugh as his eyes pop wide open.
“You think that’s funny?” He gets his feet underneath himself
and then, with very little coordination, skates toward me with his
knees knocking together and his arms flinging to the side of him.
I stifle a laugh, moving my feet inward and outward, going
backward to get away from him. “I thought football players were
supposed to be coordinated.”
His lips curve into a grin and he winks at me. “On grass,
Callie. Football player don’t spend much time on ice.”
“How about a ballet studio,” I tease. “I’ve heard you guys
sometimes like to twirl around and point your toes for”—I make air
quotes and smile—“athletic purposes.”
He shakes his head, rolling his tongue into his mouth to
force back a grin. “You know, Kayden’s right about you. You can
get kind of cocky when you want to.”
My heart sinks to my stomach and Luke’s face falls. We both
stand there, immobile, and my thoughts drift to Kayden.
I stumble to the gate to sit down on a bench. “I think I need
a break. I’m not very good at this,” I say, changing the subject.
“Me neither.” Luke skates to the exit and his toe clips against
the rubber threshold as he follows me off the rink. He takes a seat
beside me on the bench and stretches his legs out in front of
himself.
For a while we just stare out at the other skaters, watching
them laugh, smile, fall, and have fun. They look like they’re having
a great time, and I envy them. I want to have fun too, but with
Kayden. I want him here with me.
“So have you heard from him?” Luke asks casually, gazing
across the ice rink.
I look at him, creasing my forehead. “Who? Kayden?”
He nods his head once without making eye contact. “Yeah.”
I blow out a breath and it puffs out in front of my face in a
cloud of grayish smoke. Even though it’s an indoor rink, it’s still as chilly as it is outside. I have my jacket and gloves on, along with
my hood over my head, and I’m still frozen to the bone. Or maybe
the cold’s from the direction the conversation’s heading.
“No,” I mutter, fastening my gaze on a young couple skating
hand in hand. They look happy and if I stare for long enough I can
change their faces into Kayden’s and mine’s. “I haven’t heard
anything except for the latest gossip from my mother.”
Luke hunches over as he reaches for the laces on one of his
skates. “And what’s the latest gossip?”
I swallow the massive lump in my throat. “That Kayden’s in a
facility under surveillance.”
He cocks his head to the side and glances up at me.
“Because they think he did it to himself?” There’s insinuation in his tone. He knows what I know: that Kayden’s dad is an evil monster
who could have stabbed his son.
I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she told me it was
none of our business. She’s angry with the Owens because Kayden
beat up Caleb. I should have told her why… I wanted to, but
sometimes wanting to isn’t enough.
When I’d finally worked the courage to go tell her, it was
right after Kayden’s mom had told me he’d cut himself. My mom
had been sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal as she
read the newspaper.
“Mom, I have to tell you something,” I said, shaking from
head to toe. I’d just walked in from outside, so I pretended it was
from that, but really it had been my nerves.
She glanced up from her cereal, holding the spoon inside the
bowl. “If it’s about Kayden, I already know.”
I sat down at the table across from her. “I know what you’ve
probably heard, but I don’t think he did it to himself.”
She stirred her cereal with the spoon and lines crinkled
around her eyes. “What are you talking about, Callie?”
“I’m talking about… I’m talking about what happened to
Kayden.” I crossed my arms on the table and balled my hands into
fists. “And why he’s in the hospital.”
The lines disappeared from around her eyes as she frowned.
“Oh, I don’t care about that. I’m talking about what he did to
Caleb.”
My heart compressed at the sound of Caleb’s name and I
wanted to scream at her for saying that. “That wasn’t his fault.”
She shook her head and grabbed her bowl as she stood up.
“Look, I know you care about him, Callie, but he’s obviously got a
temper on him.” She walked over to the sink and put the bowl in it.
“You need to stay away from him.”
I pushed back from the table and my knees shook. “No.”
She turned around and the iciness in her eyes reminded me
of why I couldn’t tell her stuff—because she only ever looked at
stuff from her own point of view. “Callie Lawrence, you will not talk to me that way.”
I shook my head, backing toward the door. “I’ll talk to you
like this when you’re wrong.”
Her eyes widened, shocked. I’d never talked to her like that
before. “What is wrong with you? Is it because you’ve been
hanging around Kayden? I bet it is.”
“A few weeks ago you were so happy we were together,” I
said, gripping the doorknob.
“That’s before I knew what he was capable of,” she said. “I
don’t want you hanging out with him. And besides, you should be
on Caleb’s side in all of this. He’s been part of this family for
longer.”
A cold, yet hot wave of anger ripped from my toes and
rushed to my mouth. “You don’t even know the whole story! And
you don’t care enough to ask!” I wasn’t sure what I was referring to
anymore but I didn’t stay long enough to find out. I jerked the
back door open and ran outside into the snow.
She didn’t follow me and I wasn’t surprised. I’d never expect
anything more from her.
“Earth to Callie.” Luke waves a hand in front of my face and I
flinch. “Did you hear what I asked? About Kayden?”
“Yeah.” I press my lips together, thread my finger through
the laces, and begin to unfasten them. “That’s what everyone’s
saying—that he cut himself.”
Grabbing the gap between the blade and the bottom of the
skate, he slips off his skate, tosses it to the side, and stretches out his toes. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
Part of me does, whenever I think about that night when
Kayden and I had sex and there were all those fresh wounds on his
arms. I didn’t think about it at the time, but they could have been
track marks from self-inflicted injuries. But I don’t believe that he stabbed himself.
“I think it might have been his dad.” Saying it aloud changes
everything, makes it real, true. I’m breathless, not just because of
the idea of Kayden’s father stabbing him, but because Kayden
hasn’t said anything and it aches to think about what his silence
could mean. I know the pain that causes that kind of silence way
too well.
Luke kicks off his other skate, then relaxes back in the bench
and crosses his arms. “You know, I remember when we were kids
and Kayden used to sleep over at my house all the time. I always
thought it was weird because he wanted to stay at my house and
not his. Mine was a fucking shithole and my mother’s fucking
crazy. I didn’t get it, until the first time I stayed over at his house.”
I want to know why he thinks his mother is crazy, but the
tension in his jawline is an indicator not to ask. “What happened?”
He pulls off his gloves, balls them up, and puts them into the
pocket of his jacket. The intensity in his liquid brown eyes carries
the severity of what he’s about to tell me. “I broke a cup. Not on
purpose, but still the fucking cup was broken and that’s all that
mattered. I remember when it happened, Kayden flipped out. We
were like ten and I didn’t get it. It was a fucking cup, right?” He
exhales loudly and I notice that his hands have a slight tremble to
them. “Anyway, Kayden’s panicking and yelling at me to get the
broom from the storage closet. So I go to get it, but it’s not in the storage closet. So I start looking everywhere and finally find it in
the hallway closet. At this point, I can hear all this yelling coming from the kitchen.” He pauses and his throat muscles move as he
swallows hard.
I realize my own hands are shaking and my heart’s
hammering inside my chest. “What happened? When you went
back into the kitchen?”
He stares at the other side of the rink. “Kayden was on the
floor and his father was standing above him, with his knee bent,
like he was getting ready to kick him. Kayden had blood all over
his hands because he was crawling through the shards trying to
pick them all up. He had this huge cut on his face and there was a
piece of the cup in his dad’s hand.” He pauses. “Kayden denied his
father did anything to him, but I can put two and two together.”
I breathe through my nose over and over again, fighting
back the tears. “Did he ever tell you the truth?”
“About that day?” He shakes his head. “But there was one
time I was over there and he got into this huge argument with his
father and his father hit him right in front of me, so after that the cat was kind of out of the bag.”
I wiggle my foot out of the skate, shut my eyes, and let my
lungs expand as cold air fills them. “Do you ever feel guilty for not saying anything?”
He’s quiet for a very long time, and when I open my eyes,
he’s watching me. “All the God damn time,” he says with fire in his
eyes.
There’s a moment when Luke and I are connected by a piece
of thread that’s frayed and thin and very breakable. Then it’s over
and he gets to his feet, collects his skates by the laces, and heads
for the locker that’s holding our shoes. I follow him, grabbing my
skates before rounding the bench. We put on our shoes and walk
to his truck, not speaking and allowing the guilt to seep into our
already chilled bodies. He starts up his old battered truck but
dithers when he’s about to shove the shifter into gear.
“Maybe we should go see him,” he says and pushes the stick
shift forward into drive. He cranks the wheel to the right and turns
up the heater before pressing the gas and pulling out of the
parking spot. “I’ve got only one more class before Christmas break,
but I can blow it off. I already took the final.”
“But they’re not letting anyone see him except for family,” I
remind him as I bend my arm and reach behind me for the seat
belt. “At least that’s what my mom told me yesterday when I called
her. She said that Maci told her he wasn’t allowed visitors except
for her and that he can’t even talk on the phone.”
His gaze cuts to me as he stops the truck at the exit and
looks both ways at the empty street. “You believe her?”
I pull the seat belt down and buckle it, and then my
shoulders lift and slump. “I don’t know. Maci Owens is a lot of
things, but why would she lie about that?”
“To cover up what really happened.” The truck fishtails as he
pulls out onto the main road that’s slippery with snow. It’s late, the sky is gray, and the lampposts lining the street highlight the flakes falling from the sky.
I’m about to tell him yes, let’s drive down the highway and
fly toward Afton. I was planning on heading back in a few days
anyway, but then my phone starts playing “Hate Me,” by Blue
October.
I frown. “It’s my mom.” I take my phone out of my pocket
and stare at the glowing screen. I briefly consider letting it go to
voicemail where she could yammer to it about how messed up she
thinks it is that Kayden beat up Caleb. But giving her an open door
to a one-sided conversation is like Christmas morning for her and I
don’t want to have to listen to her go on and on in hopes of
hearing something important.
I press TALK and put the phone up to my ear. “Hello.”
“Hi, sweetie,” she singsongs and my face instantly sinks.
“How are you?”
“Fine.” I ignore Luke’s questioning stare and watch the road.
“You don’t sound fine,” she replies and then sighs. “Callie,
you’re not going back to being depressed again, are you? Because
I thought college was healing that.”
“I was never depressed,” I respond flatly. “Just quiet.”
She sighs exaggeratedly and I grit my teeth. “Look, honey, I
just wanted to let you know that Caleb’s probably going to be
pressing charges against Kayden for what he did.”
“What!” I exclaim, startling Luke enough that he jumps and
swerves the truck a little and the side of the tire clips the curb,
causing the truck to lurch. He quickly regains control and I lower
my voice and press my finger to my ear to hear better as I huddle
toward the door. “What the fuck do you mean he’s pressing
charges?”
“Callie Lawrence, you will not use that kind of language on
the phone with me, young lady,” she warns. “You know how much I
don’t like the F word.”
“Sorry,” I apologize. “But why is Caleb pressing charges? They
both beat each other up.”
“No, Kayden hit Caleb for no reason,” she says. “Caleb was
just defending himself.”
“He didn’t hit him for no reason. He hit him because of me.”
It slips out like poison vapor and I choke on each syllable.
There’s an extensive pause. “Callie, what do you mean he hit
Caleb because of you? Why would he do that?”
My shoulders curl in as the shame and the dirtiness floods
my body and I remember her limited ability to understand things.
“It’s nothing. I’m just upset and saying stuff. It doesn’t mean
anything.”
She pauses again and I wonder if for a split second, she’s
contemplating my words on a deeper level. “Callie, is there
something you want to tell me?”
When I breathe again, it’s deafening and I swear the whole
world can hear it and they know my secret. “No, Mom.”
“Okay then.” She sounds disappointed, like I was just about
to give her the secret locked in a box inside me. But only Kayden
has the key to it. “Well, I just wanted to let you know in case it
comes up. I know his best friend goes to school there with you and
I don’t want you to have to hear it by gossip.”
I shake my head. “All right.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Callie.”
“Okay, bye.”
We hang up and I clutch the phone in my hand, strangling
the life out of it. My palms start to sweat and I can’t stop thinking about Kayden. He did it for me. He did it for me. I need to save
him. “I think we should go to Afton.”
When Luke looks at me, there are lines on his forehead and
his hands are gripping the steering wheel. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I raise my hips and slide the phone into the pocket of
my jeans. “My mom said Caleb’s going to press charges against
Kayden.”
He keeps some of his attention on the road as he turns the
truck into the parking lot in front of my dorm. “Are you shitting
me?”
I zip up my coat and put my gloves on. “No, and I need to fix
it… somehow. It’s my fault it happened to begin with.”
He parks the truck near the front, puts his hand on the
shifter, and pushes it into park. The radio plays and the engine
keeps cutting out. I wonder if he knows why Kayden beat up Caleb
that night, if he ever told him.
“All right, it’s a deal.” Luke stares at the McIntyre residence
hall in front of us. It’s the tallest of the residence halls at the
University of Wyoming and it looks lonely, towering above the
others. “You want to leave tonight or in the morning?”
I grab the door handle and pull on it. “In the morning. I’d like
Seth to come too if that’s okay.”
He nods and reaches for his pack of cigarettes on the
dashboard. “That’s fine as long as you guys don’t mind squishing
into this thing. It’s a piece of shit, but Seth’s car’s never going to make it to Afton with all the snow.”
I shove open the door. “He’ll be fine with it I’m sure.” I swing
my feet over the edge of the seat, getting ready to jump down.
“Callie,” Luke calls out. “Is there any way we can fix this? Stop
Caleb from pressing charges? You know, if he does, Kayden’s
going to get suspended from the team. He’ll probably never play
again. And he’ll probably get suspended from school. Plus, he
might have to go to jail or pay a huge fucking fine that he can’t
afford without his father’s help.” He pauses, deliberating with his
forehead bunched. “I just really want to make sure that
everything’s okay with him… Sometimes when people hit bottom,
they give up…” His voice grows softer, like the weight of a fall leaf.
“Kind of like my sister.”
The gravity of the situation pushes on my chest as I hop out,
grabbing the door for support. I remember that Luke had a sister.
He never said how she died, but after what he just said, I wonder if
it was suicide.
Pressing my palm to the nagging ache in the center of my
heart, I turn around toward the cab. “I’m going to try. I just have to figure out how.” I already know how. The big question is, can I do
it? Can I finally say it aloud, confront him, threaten him, make it so that he’s so terrified he’ll walk away from it. Can I tell my mother, father, and brother? Can I trust them to believe me and be on my
side?
Do I have that much power? Do I have that much courage?
In the end, I know I’m going to have to answer those
questions and make a decision that’s frightened me for the last six
years of my life, but maybe it’s time to face it.
Maybe it’s time to quit being so scared.
