Hate is a Strong Word

By Angela Myers

Copyright 2011 by Angela Myers All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any form. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number ISBN 978-1-257-76519-5

This book is dedicated to my lovely grandmother, Viola Borzillieri.

1. Water

I hate everything, and everything hates me. Right now, I'm walking from Room 213 at Sanctimonious Heart Academy to the main office. Flanked by two nuns and one really large gym teacher, they are treating me like I'm radioactive. They walk triangulated around me instead of next to, or behind, me. Well, we wouldn't want any of these precious little waifs in matching skirts to have to get too close to me right now because that would not be a good thing. I'd probably hurt them somehow, just by looking at them, just by being there. HA! They'd have to talk to me first, and it's not like thats ever going to happen. We are descending the stairs, and classes are changing. There are lots of girls around us but they keep their distance, whispering and giggling. Aside from the faction of staff that is guiding me downstairs, things are not all that different from the way they normally are. I feel like a captured soldier in a convoy only this mission has brought angry civilians into the streets. Normally, they'd hurl stones and yell obscenities. But today they just watch in disgust, sharing conversations about me that I can't hear. That I don't want to hear. I have no doubt they are saying vicious things. "Why is she even here?" Yeah I wonder that too, why am I even here? It should never have gone this far. This is the ninth week of my freshman year. Before this, I attended public school. But I got a scholarship my mother would not let me turn down, so here I am. I'd really rather be anywhere else in the world. Not just because I am currently in an ass-load of trouble, but because things just never really turn out well for me. Life, that is. Things just don't ever go my way and they never go according to plan. Dont get me wrong, I'm no whiner. I mean I hardly care, but its true. My life is, and always has been, well, fucked. Okay, maybe I'm being slightly overdramatic. I can't remember being a baby. From pictures and stories I hear from my grandma, life was pretty okay for

me when I was really little. Too bad I can't remember it much. There is a lot to tell, but I usually keep it to myself. Whenever I crack just a little bit and share some of my shit with someone, things don't work out. I end up getting hurt, or pissed. And no one has ever stuck it out long enough to get the full story. No one at this school gives me even half a chance at friendship. They take one look at me through their clear blue eyes, with a fake smile on their bright shiny faces, they manage to squeak out a condescending "Hi, and thats that. I never expected to make a ton of friends, but by now you would think that at least some people would have tried to befriend me. I think my main problem is the fact that Sanctimonious Heart Academy is an all-girl school and the truth is, I have never gotten along very well with girls. I don't trust them, and they don't trust me. This probably has something to do with my mother, but thats a whole other story that I'll get into later. Somewhere inside, it hurts that they won't give me a chance just because they don't know me. (Well, theres that, and theres also the fact that I don't look exactly like them.) Most of them have had eight or nine years of practice at this whole Catholic school thing. Hell, most of them have gone to school together for at least half that long. And their mothers and fathers went to the same schools before them. These are legacy kids. They have money, they have reputation and they stake their personal value on these things. They know how to wear the school uniform with attitude so it portrays a little of their own personal style. They know how to work the system and they don't mind sucking up. They don't mind looking like good girls. They think they are good girls. I can't and won't suck up, and no one has ever mistaken me for a good girl. Maybe its all this black eyeliner (wink, wink). I'm good on the inside, but nobody has seen that side of me for a long time. Sometimes I completely forget that fact and then things end up kind of like they are right now, with me walking like a prisoner to the main office. I guarantee that when I walk in the door, the cunt school counselor will be in there wearing her own fake smile. Ugh. I'd like to just slap her. If she tells me one more time that her office is a safe place, I'm going to have to do something to show her it's not. I don't know what she wants from me. Should I pull up my skirt and show her the cuts on my thighs? Should I tell her I hate everything and everything hates me? Should I tell her that no one loves me and I don't really care if I live or die? Should I? Of course not, and why would I? She is sitting there asking me to spill my guts. When she tries to say my name, she stammers and has to look at the folder on her desk to remember what it is. Screw you, lady. I'm not telling you squat. You don't care about me, and I don't need or

want your sympathy. Especially not the fake kind that someone pays you to show me. No, I don't need you or your help. I have been dealing with things just fine on my own up until now, and I will continue to do so long after Ive left this place. As we near the office, I'm getting angrier. I'm walking as slowly as I possibly can. I'm scared, too, but I'll be damned if Im going to show it. To be honest, I'm always a little scared, even if I don't have a reason to be. I have anxiety issues that act up all the time, and depression. Both of those are really embarrassing, and I hate not being able to control my emotions. The people who always try to get me to talk about it don't seem to understand that I would talk I'd love to talk if I thought it would do any good. The last time I told someone how sad I was, I ended up in the hospital. The time before that, they gave me lots of pills that didn't do much except make me fat or make me feel like sleeping for years. Pills and the cold, uncaring staff at Bryleen Hospital (the nut house here in Buffalo) don't do much to make a person feel better. Dont get me wrong, I'd love to talk to someone, anyone, and be able to unload this crap, but I have never found anyone I felt I could trust. As we walk into the main office, the secretary stands there waiting for us. She's holding open the door to the principal's suite with a look of fear and contempt. Everyone in this place thinks that I'm just the worst thing that has ever walked through the doors. It's not just the kids who don't give me a chance; their parents and the teachers often do the same thing. This suite is a place I have been many times. Theres a comfy little waiting room with leather couches and chairs, and her office is through a doorway at the back. I have sat in each and every spot in this room at one time or another: the long couch where I sat with Danielle and Linda after they got me to go off on them in the cafeteria a few weeks ago; the old, deep, wingback chair where I sat across from my mother when we came to accept the scholarship last April. I'll never forget that day. My mother has a way of sweet-talking the world and making herself look completely normal. No one would guess the kind of person she really is. No one can see farther than those smiles; they cant see deep down into the blackness of her heart. That cruel heart that doesn't mind if I cry at night, the one that lets her treat me however she wants, whenever she wants. I half expect to see her here but then realize that she couldn't possibly have gotten here that quickly. The nuns, Sister Barbara and Sister Kristin, sit in silence on the couch. I pick the wingback chair this time, putting me across from our gym teacher, Mr. Andres. The faces in the room are so ancient that it almost makes me laugh out loud. The sands of time, thats what they are. No wonder they don't understand

men. No wonder I scare them. When they lived in the real world (which they certainly don't now) someone like me never would have existed. The nuns must be pushing 80 and Andres is no schoolboy because he has worked here for 50 years. Matter of fact, they just had a party for him. Before he came here, he went to school down the road at St. Joseph's Academy. They don't need a college degree to work here so Im guessing that means hes pushing 70. He looks a little better than the rest of the old coots, but thats probably because of all the exercise he gets as a gym teacher. So far, no one has looked me in the eye. Hell, no one has even looked at me. No one has said a word, either. It's eerie, because by now someone should probably be screaming at me. I have to wonder if Ive gone too far this time. I push that thought from my mind and look around the room. Everything is brown. Reminds me more of a doctor's office than a high school principals suite. I look down at my shoes. Oh, how I love these shoes. The Sanctimonious Heart Academy dress code has taken a bit of a hit since I first walked through its doors. I can't help but smile at all the impromptu revisions they have come up with this year because of me. Up 'til now, I guess, most girls just followed along blindly and stayed true to Catholic-school standards. Not me, though, not by a long shot. I wore black lipstick; they banned it. I wore red- and black-striped tights; they banned those, too! I'll admit that it was a lot of fun those first few weeks trying to find things that were within the dress code rules but would drive the nuns crazy. That day in the office, I was wearing black, 7-inch platform, ankle-high boots and black thigh-high socks with big white bows on the back. Everyone gave me funny looks, but they couldn't really do anything. I also wore the required green and black plaid skirt and the white, button-down shirt. (Okay, so my shirt has a few rather large tears in it so you can see the White Stripes tshirt I'm wearing under it, but all in all I have followed the rules. My hair and nails are black. My eye makeup is bright blue. My purse is fake leather, fashioned into the shape of a bat. Oh, and theres a little blood running down my left arm that has made its way onto my shirt in a few spots. I can hear the principal, Sister Stephanie Hawking or whatever her name is, on the phone. I can't hear what shes saying but I know that whatever goes down today wont happen until that phone call ends. My mind wanders as I look at all the religious statues and pictures. It's not that I'm against this stuff, really, and I'm not against God. I used to believe, but now I'm not so sure. I do know one thing, though, that if God is real, he obviously doesn't believe in me. I can't name one thing that praying has ever gotten for me. And I have not been able to pray in years, except maybe in a fleeting thought,

like, "Please God, no," or, "Oh God." I can't bring myself to go any farther than that. My thoughts drift again, to a few minutes earlier, and all thats gone down this morning. Its only 11 a.m., but its already been a long day. Ma woke me up in a screaming rage when she got home from work last night. I guess I didn't do the dishes right. To the untrained eye, they looked just fine clean, dry and put away in the cupboards. But to my mother, a woman who thrives on chaos, those dishes were not only not done right, they needed to be done properly. And no, before you ask, that sort of thing cant wait for morning or after school. To her, 3 a.m. is a fine time to come into my room, screaming and beating on the walls with a rubber spatula and kicking anything thats in her way. Thats totally acceptable behavior for her, and there is no right or wrong time for this stuff. It is just her will. I looked over at my little sister, cowering in the bed next to mine, and decided not to argue. One way or another, those dishes were getting redone (and probably redone and redone) so I might as well not push it because that would be asking for a beating on top of everything else. My sister doesnt need to see that again tonight, so I wanted to be brave for her. I winked at her in the dark as if to say that everything would be okay, as if I wasn't scared. When I got to the kitchen, things were about as bad as I could have imagined. She had taken every plate, every bowl, every cup and anything else she could find and strewn it across the floor. I started to pick up while she was filling a bucket with bleach, dish soap and very hot water. She threw the contents of the bucket toward the lower cabinets where we kept mixing bowls and things like that. As the water sloshed onto the floor, she grabbed me by the shoulders and knocked me to my knees. I came down really hard and slipped in the water. It hurt, but I tried not to think about that. When she started screaming at me about blood on her white tiles, I realized I must have split my knee and that the burning I felt was from the bleach in the water. I took the scrub brush out of her hand and started working. The cabinets were already clean so I just went through the motions, scrubbing fast and hard so maybe she would stop yelling. I could picture my sister, wide awake and crying in her bed, and it made me sick. This was not the first time she had dragged one of us from our sleep, not the first time she had awakened us while screaming like a mad woman. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't high, she was just mean as hell and wanted to watch us suffer. I wish I could say that I had gone back to bed that night but I hadn't. By the time the cabinets were clean and dry and all the dishes had been rewashed, it was time to take a shower and get to school. I was still deep in thought about everything that had happened last night

when Sister Stephanie snapped her fingers in front of my face to alert me to her presence. I don't know how long shed been standing there, trying to get my attention, and I hadnt been ignoring her. I just felt really terrible. But I didn't say either of those things. I didn't say I wasn't in my right mind; that I wasn't myself because I had only three hours of sleep and four hours of scrubbing and screaming the night before. I hadn't been able to eat breakfast, and by now I was just so totally exhausted and hungry that I zoned out. "Sorry, Sister, but I really didn't hear you snapping," I said as dryly as possible. "Just who do you think you are, Miss?" she said. "I I don't know what you want me to say," was all I could come up with. "Explain yourself," she snapped as she handed me a paper towel and pointed at my arm in disgust. "The school nurse will be here momentarily to help you clean up." As if taking cues from the principal, the nurse showed up and Sister Stephanie left us alone. She asked me to look her in the eye and tell her what was going on. She asked me if anything else was wrong, if maybe I was having problems with my friends, my boyfriend, my parents. I looked her in the eye and lied, "No, I'm fine." She didn't ask again. One might wonder why I didn't just tell her the truth, but it isn't like she would have believed me anyway. And its not like she cared. I know she has asked other students these questions before and gotten answers. My real problem was that, not only did I not want to talk, I didn't have any idea what to say. When things like this happen in your life, things get so confused and so backwards at times that nothing makes sense. There is no easy, clear answer to a question like, "What's wrong?" She gave me a few bandages and a warning to keep the wounds clean. She left and Sister Stephanie came back in. Once again, she asked me to explain myself. I still didn't quite know what to say so I just told her what happened. Those dress-code changes I was talking about often had to do with accessories. I like to wear 20 or 30 thin, red and black jelly bracelets on each arm. For some reason, the school had a problem with that and changed the rule to state that we couldnt wear more than two bracelets at a time. It didn't say anything about what kind of bracelet or anything like that, so I improvised. I got six really big safety pins, like the ones people wear with kilts, and I made two huge bracelets by looping three pins around a stack of jelly bracelets. Voila, two bracelets, one for each arm! I was actually pretty proud of myself. First period went smoothly.

During second period, my math teacher seemed a bit amused when he saw the safety-pinned bracelets. Third period, however, was another story. You see, not all the teachers are nuns. The civilian or lay teachers, as they are called, are much more laid back. They enforce the rules but don't act as if it's their life's work. The nuns, on the other hand, wow, they are sticklers for the rules. And they don't find my little dress-code shortcuts amusing. Sister Julia had not even started the class when she noticed my arms. "Off!" she shouted, pointing at the bracelets. "But there are only two...," I said. "That is many more than two bracelets, Miss, now take them off. I'm waiting, and I will not start class until you are in dress code." "Okay," I said, and I stood my ground, not making any moves to take them off. "We are all watching and waiting, Miss, and we have all day." Not one to turn down a challenge, I stared her down. Some of the girls in class were giggling and whispering. I heard more than one use words like freak and loser. I'll show them a freak if they want to see one, I thought. I don't know why I can never stand up to my mother like I do to those nuns. I guess it's probably because I know that the nuns are all bark and no bite. They'd never lay a hand on me, and yelling doesn't scare me. I began to take the safety pins off of the bracelets as slowly as possible, laying the open pins on my desk. After that, I gingerly removed each jelly bracelet, carelessly tossing them, one by one. Sister Julia and the class stared in bewildered amazement. Before long, the floor was littered with 40 or so bracelets. I crossed my legs, picked up my pencil and looked up at Sister as if I was ready to begin class. I'll never forget the look on her face. She reminded me of one of those cartoon characters who gets so angry that steam comes shooting out of their ears. She was trying her hardest not to let me get to her, but I could see that wasnt the case. She calmly asked me to pick up my mess. I replied that I would do it when I was ready. The little kiss-ass girl next to me decided to help out and started picking up the scattered bracelets. She was joined by a few other girls, and in about one minute the bracelets were all back on my desk in a dusty pile. I wasnt ready for the fun to be over so quickly and I resented the girls for helping out. Pissed, I stashed the jewelry in my purse and, just as I was closing the first pin I realized that this thing wasnt over after all: I stuck three of the pins into my arm, horizontally, and closed them before the cheerleader to my left let out a blood-curdling (and if you ask me, overly dramatic) scream. Sister turned away from the chalkboard, where she had been writing, and took a few steps forward. She glanced from the cheerleader (I never did catch her name) to me,

and the look on her face was not what I expected. Instead of looking exasperated or angry, she was as white as a ghost. She gagged slightly and passed out, hitting the back of her head with a loud crack on the corner of her desk. A few people gasped; I may have been one of them. The room was silent for a good 30 seconds and then exploded into chaos. Three or four girls ran downstairs for help. Someone knelt beside Sister Julia and checked to see that she was still breathing. She was breathing, but still unconscious and bleeding. A small pool of blood was collecting under her head. Her elderly face looked ashen. Of all the possible outcomes I had anticipated, I never considered this one. I sat there, not showing the slightest emotion, as the rest of the students were ushered out of the room. No one forced me to move, and I watched the paramedics load the poor thing onto a gurney and roll her out. Her eyes never fluttered; I was sure I had killed her. I was terrified, and I felt numb. I guess I have finally gone too far, I thought. Some of the girls were crying outside the door. I wanted to cry, too, but I'd never let myself. At least not in front of everyone. I don't know how long I sat there. I don't even remember removing the pins but I must have because they were on the desk in front of me. My head was spinning. I felt like I would soon be violently sick. It wasn't the blood on the floor or even the pain I was in that bothered me. It was the fact that something bad had happened to someone and it was my fault. I wanted to make Sister Julia angry but I didn't want to hurt her. I had never hurt anyone who wasn't hurting me first. I mean, if I did, that would make me no better than my mother and I'm not like her. I swear I'm not. Nothing she can say or do will blacken my heart enough to want to hurt people. I guess sometimes though you can do so without meaning to. Is this how it starts? I promise myself that its not. I promise myself its not! The gym teacher grabbed me by the arm and forced me to stand up, saying, "March right down to the office, and don't even think about pulling any bullshit." I couldn't believe he cussed at me in front of the nuns! I felt like I deserved it so I wasn't about to argue, but I was pretty surprised. "Sister passed out," I said. Is that your story? the principal asked. I could see she was angry, stunned and maybe even a little afraid. I didn't like seeing the fear in her eyes, knowing that I put it there. Sitting in front of that woman I felt the lowest I had ever felt. I was sick with guilt but determined not to show it. I can't remember when I learned to look like I don't care about something, even when I really do, but Ive been practicing for years. It started accidentally, I think, but now I cultivate it like a farmer growing blue-ribbon tomatoes for the

State Fair. I think it comes pretty naturally when you live a double life like I do. At home, I'm this weak, scared person who just takes whatever my mom throws at me. No matter what happens, I never fight back. I'm never disrespectful. I never say no -- because I know better. I just let her devour me whole. Everywhere else, people see me as some sort of deviant. Someone to run away from. Someone to laugh at or point out in a crowd. I'm a freak. I'm bad. I'm totally locked inside this shell I have put up to protect myself. I guess I must be a pretty good actress cuz on the outside I'm terrifying but on the inside I'm terrified. I feel like the walls I have put up between me and everyone else are so thick that even I can't see through them anymore. I am starting to believe I'm not good enough. Lately, I can't stop wondering if I can make it until I'm 18. If it werent for my sister, Id probably be dead by now. I tried twice to kill myself, but I wont do that again. I am more sure of that than anything else in this world. I know because I will never forget the look on my little sister's face when I woke up in the hospital. She didn't say anything but her eyes told me she was so relieved to have me back that I knew I could never leave her. I was weak and in pain but the moment my gaze met hers I reached out my arms and took her right into that hospital bed with me. I hugged her so hard I could have suffocated her! She held me as tight as her small arms could. I knew then that no matter what fate, my mother, or this world threw at me, I would never, ever give up again. My sister needed me. If anyone knows my true heart, it's her. She has heard me crying into my pillow at night. She has seen the scars from where I dragged a razor blade or a chunk of broken glass across my skin to dull my painful, racing thoughts. Shes been there through countless nights, watching me get dragged out of bed or having my dinner thrown on the floor. She is my only ally in all of this; the only other soldier in this army. Together, we will keep fighting until I can get us out. Giana is seven years younger than I am, and when she was born, I knew she would change my life. But I never imagined she'd save it. Killing yourself, most people believe, is selfish or crazy or both. Believe me, I have heard it all. "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem," the social worker told me the first time I tried suicide. I was 12 the day I took a bottle of pain pills that I swiped from my aunt's house. I just laid down in my bed waiting to see God, or nothing, or whatever happens when you die. I was shaking and cold because of the overdose. After a while, everything went blurry as I stretched out on my blanket. For the first time since I could remember, I felt peaceful and unafraid. Instead of seeing God, I saw the bright lights of a hospital room three days later through bleary, tired eyes. It was the middle of the night, but the light

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was on above my bed. Someone had a stethoscope to my chest. It's an odd way to wake up in any circumstance, but when you are expecting to be dead, well, its really odd. A well-meaning nurse took my hand and told me that I was very lucky, that I had given my family quite a scare. She said that if I had been found even an hour later, I surely would have died. I didn't feel that lucky. I wanted to die. I pretty much felt like a failure; a failure with an awful, gnawing, acid ache in my stomach. She promised to call my mother right away. That made my stomach hurt even more. Having dear old mom show up and pretend that I was the light of her life when that is so far from the truth hurt more than I could bear. She is so fake, yet so believable to strangers. Every time, no matter what, I end up looking like a terrible brat, and she comes out like Mother of the Year for putting up with all of my shit. It's the same wherever we go: the hospital, school, grocery stores, everywhere. I can't wait until someone sees her for what she is. "Talking about your problems will help them go away," that same social worker mumbled, all the while glancing at her watch and never looking me in the eye. There is nothing worse than fake sympathy. For me, it hurts as much as everything else I'm going through. It makes me mad, too. Hurting hasnt made me stupid; I can see right through the people who "help" for a living. I'm sure there are people out there who get paid to help and actually do care, who truly want to know about your life and how they can help, but I have never met any of them. Everything the head shrinkers, psychiatrists and doctors say to me sounds scripted. Like they opened up their medical books, looked at the definition of suicide or anxiety and then recited what they thought they should say. They don't take into account that I'm a living, breathing person, and that some answer from a book is not going to help me. I needed an answer from their hearts, and I'm still waiting. My mind jumped back to the present again. "This is very serious, young lady," spat the principal. "What you don't seem to understand is that your actions have consequences. Sister Julia is a sensitive person with feelings and emotions. When you stick pins in your arms, even if you don't feel much of anything, she does! You scared her something awful." Blah, blah, blah I stopped listening. I'm not heartless; I do care. But this woman doesn't want to hear that, and I don't want to say it. I was almost completely zoning when the secretary opened the door to the suite and walked in with my mother right behind her. Ma was dressed as if she was going to a formal party or Thanksgiving dinner. At home, she rarely wears anything but sweat pants and stained t-shirts. The outfits she wears when she comes to my school, or when she goes shopping, are the total

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opposite. They portray the fantasy she has about herself: neat, prim and proper, and certainly not the clothes of an abusive mother. They are like a costume for a character in a play. I was not happy to see her and was definitely not looking forward to eventually leaving with her. I was almost looking forward to her performance. In a sick way, I love to watch her put the moves on everyone. No sooner had the door shut behind the slack-faced secretary than my mother glided to the sitting area and took a spot on the couch next to the nun. Glancing at me with a pained expression on her face, then at Sister, then back to me, her eyes began to well up. Her hands fluttered in her lap and then rested briefly on her cheeks. She broke down in tiny sobs for a few minutes, then took the principal by the hand, her eyes welling up again. "I just don't know what to do with this one, Sister. I try. I try so hard to provide for her and her little sister. I'm alone with this job but I do my best. I'm a single mother, but I do my absolute best to make sure these girls have everything they need and want. Maybe that's it, maybe I do too much. I must be doing something wrong. I have read all the books and articles I can find on troubled teens but none of their suggestions seem to help. I'm at a total loss," she whimpered, "a total loss." The nun lapped all this up like a cat with a bowl of fresh milk. "It's not your fault," she said in hushed tones to soothe my beast of a mother. "Adolescence is a hard time for everyone, some more than others." As she said others, she cast a grim glance my way. "It is obvious that this is not your fault, no one blames you for your daughter's shortcomings. We can all see that you do try your very best with both of your girls. Lots of children have problems like this. It's their age; it's hormonal." My mother was still dabbing her eyes with a floral embroidered handkerchief she had fished out of her prim and proper, perfect-mom-purse. They continued to discuss how rotten I was, and how it was no one's fault. I was, as always, astounded. If I am a good actress with all the pretending I do, I must have picked up some of that skill from her. Damn, she is good at this. If she worked as hard at actually being a good mother as she did at pretending to be one, my life wouldn't be half bad. I'm just so sick of this shit. For years, I really did believe that something was wrong with me. I mean I could see how well people responded to my mother and I just figured that I needed to try harder not to be so bad. I think the biggest hurt I have is when I think back and remember trying to figure out what was wrong with me. She'd say things to people to get sympathy that made me look horrible. She'd tell my aunts and uncles that I never helped around the house.

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She'd tell the neighbors that my bedroom was disgusting. She'd thank the neighborhood kids for being so respectful and ask them if they treated their mothers like I treat her. I mean, what could they say? Of course they said no, because that was the response she wanted. It took me a long time to figure out that my mother was the problem. When I did, it hit me like a ton of bricks. It brought some relief, I suppose, but it was too late because the damage was already done. I already felt worthless. Learning that it was my mother who was worthless didn't make me feel that much better. It made me pity her and promise myself that I'd never be like her, but it didn't do anything to relieve the pain that had built up in my heart for years, believing I wasnt good enough. One time I was invited to spend the weekend at a friend's house. I was in the sixth grade and we were at our school's annual family get-together. It was Friday night, and my friend's mother casually offered to let me spend the night and bring me home Saturday or Sunday. My mother almost never let me out of her sight for very long, so I was sure the answer would be no. I was very surprised when she said, "Sure, that sounds like fun." You see, when my mother protested that I didn't have any clothes with me, my friend's mom just said, "Oh that's okay, we have plenty of things she can use." This must have thrown my mother off, because she usually got exactly what she wanted when she made excuses, so she just said yes. As a really anxious kid, I was pretty nervous leaving with another family. I had never spent the night anywhere but with my mother (and okay, maybe one or two nights with my grandmother, like when Giana was born) I didn't know what to expect. We got in the car and everyone was smiling. Car rides with my mother were usually pretty scary. On the way somewhere she would always warn us exactly how we should behave. She dictated what we were and were not allowed to say, ask for, talk about, etc. She would rant and rave all the way, wherever we went even if it was just to go buy groceries. There was always a long list of rules and warnings to go over on the way there. On the way home, she would enumerate everything we had done wrong each and every little thing we did or said was scrutinized, judged and reported on. She'd yell at me for not standing up straight enough, or not being chatty enough with whomever we were visiting. There was never a time when everything was fine. There was never a time when we could do whatever we wanted when we got where we were going. There was never a time that we rode home in peace because we had done what we were told. Nothing we did was ever judged fairly, and so therefore we never did anything right. This car ride with my friend and her family was so different that it

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shocked me. As I buckled my seat belt in the parking lot, I braced myself as we backed out of our space. I waited for one of the parents to lay into the kids. I waited for the yelling, the belittling, but it didn't happen. Instead, the dad turned on the radio and the mom started singing along with the song. Us kids just talked to each other. I was stunned. I figured it must be because I was in the car. Sometimes we drove our neighbor to church or the store and when she was in the car my mother was pretty nice. Yea, that must be it, I thought. Then the mom turned around and asked me what I wanted for dinner. I didn't know what to say. Not only did I not know what I wanted for dinner, but I really just didn't know what to say. Finally, I stammered that anything was fine with me. The mom pressed me. She said since I was the guest, it was my choice and she wanted me to feel at home. I had to pick something! She was so nice, but I was terrified by her simple question. Merely asking me what I wanted was so foreign to me that I was frozen with anxiety. With my heart racing like someone had a gun to my head, I ran through my options McDonalds, spaghetti, what should I say oh no, now I was taking too long to decide! I saw a billboard for a local pizza place and blurted out, "I love pizza." So without questions or admonitions, pizza it was. No one complained. It wasn't even an issue, as if kids getting to decide what the family eats is normal. That weekend stands out in my mind as much as any of the bad ones Ive lived through. Not because it was so great; it wasnt at all great, really. It was normal. It was calm. It was the first time the pressure had been off me in ages. I remember it so clearly because when I compared my life with that of my friend, I wasnt jealous of all the wonderful things she had or even her wonderful parents. I was envious of her serenity. Her life was just so normal. I ached to just have a few days at my own house like the ones I spent at hers. It was also the first time I realized just how fucked up my life was. It sort of forced me to face facts and admit to myself that things were not okay at my house. I mean, I had always known, but knowing it and admitting it are two different things. Back to reality. My mother asked me to tell her what happened. I didnt answer right away. I had just explained it to the principal. She looked down at the bloody gauze in my hands and her lip curled ever so slightly in anger that she couldnt completely hide. Of course no one else would have detected it, but I was an expert in reading her moods. That was not a good sign. She keeps her cool in public at all costs. Sister read from her notes on what I told her had happened. This young lady

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just does not seem to understand the severity of what is going on here, she said to my mother. I resented her saying that. I had no doubt of the gravity the situation held. I was still trying to understand it completely, but I knew that I had fucked up, and was going to be in deep shit over it. I kept going over and over it in my mind as I sat there. The two of them discussed me like I was part of the furniture. I didnt want to hear my mother call me a problem. I didnt want to hear her describe me and my bad attitude. I had heard it all so many times before. Everywhere we went she had to tell someone what a great mother she was for putting up with my constant crap. I could feel the anger welling up inside me as it always did when she talked like that. When she blamed me for everything that was wrong in her life. She couldnt find a boyfriend for years, and she would tell anyone who'd listen that I scared off any man who ever came around. There were never any men interested in her. She never brought anyone home that I could remember until I was at least 12 years old. The only praise my mother ever gave me had to do with school. I was always a really good student. Somehow, all the stress of my childhood was never bad enough that I was not able to learn in school. I know that a lot of kids with shitty home lives have trouble with their grades. I can understand it. I mean it is hard to concentrate if you have bruises on your body from a beating you got the night before. It is hard to study when you are not safe in your own home. For me, school was such a great escape that I completely immersed myself in it. I excelled in every subject. I threw myself into my work so completely that no other outcome was possible. I loved shutting out the real world by doing math or reading a book. I loved the encouragement I got from my teachers when I did well. Those two things alone probably made me a really good student. That is how I got the scholarship to this place to begin with. Our school district sponsored a city-wide placement test. A bunch of public and private schools in the area gave a collective test used to assign scholarships. I took the test hoping to get into Performing Arts High School because I wanted to take dance classes. I did get in. I got offers from a bunch of schools. But my mother made me come to Sanctimonious Heart because of the scholarship. She loved the idea of it. She could not stop talking about it. She bragged to everyone about me. I would have been proud except she was only happy because it made her look good. Like she trained me well, I guess. Who cares that I really wanted to go to Performing Arts. Who could even hear me say it with her talking so much about the scholarship? I knew better than to push the issue, but I did try to reason with her once and made dinner. Okay, I almost always made dinner. That

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night I made a nice dinner and asked her as sweetly as I knew how, to please not force me to go to Sanctimonious Heart. With all the warmth of an iceberg, she told me I could just plan to dance around my bedroom for the next four years. There was no way I was going anywhere but Sanctimonious Heart Academy. I mean, what would she rather brag about to her friends? Dance moves or my expensive education? Hands down the ritzy school won, because it was the better conversation piece. Forget that it was my LIFE we were talking about. Who cares that I have to live this nightmare of going to private school with snobs that hate me? Who cares at all? I spent that whole summer after eighth grade trying to pump myself up for this school that I was so scared to attend. I kept telling myself that Id be fine. I reasoned that the education I got would be great. Surely that would make any bad shit that happened kinda worth it. I had nearly convinced myself. Then the first day of school came and went, and it sucked. After the first week was over, I was still a little bit hopeful. I just assumed that people couldnt ignore me forever. I was so wrong. So wrong. Not only did they ignore me, they took every opportunity to ridicule me or fight with me. I could have accepted them never being my friends. But the way they set me up to fail socially, without giving any thought to my feelings, I never really expected. They didnt even have to get together to plan it. They just seemed to know by looking at me that I was not worth their time. I was not good enough for them. No one ever sat with me at lunch. No one ever really smiled at me, except to mock me. Shit, no one has ever even looked me in the eye. They act like they are afraid of me. In some ways, I love the power it gave me over them, but mostly it just hurt. I cant believe that not even one person could see something in me that was worth their time. I tell myself no matter what, my mother cant hurt me if I dont let her. I dont know if that is true, though, because the person I have been forced to become is the kind of person that no one wants to know. No one wants to know me. I cant believe it, but its true. I see it happening, but I feel powerless to stop it. I dont know how to flip this around. I dont know how to fix this sick, sad person I have become. I dont even know where to begin. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell someone about the things I have been through. But I dont know where to begin or who I could possibly be that honest with. My mind races all the time. It sometimes gets so bad at night that I think there is no way Ill stay sane until the sun comes up. I dont know if its the darkness or the solitude that puts me in that frame of mind, but it can be really rough. There have been times I didnt sleep for a stretch of two or three days, because I just cant relax. When that happens, I just lay in my bed or sit on the floor. Bad

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thoughts crisscross my mind until Im completely lost in them. Sometimes the thoughts come in flashes, and other times my mind lingers on one of the big things thats happened. A smack in the mouth, an unkind word, a pinch on the arm, an insult, being called ugly and fat, although I am neither. A screaming match we had when I was 11, a night spent on the porch in the rain because I forgot my key. Scary times when I was a little kid and she held me under water in the tub. I have to wonder, would I have been better off if I had drown? Am I to blame for this if I dont tell anyone? Am I letting her hurt me and my sister by trying to be strong? Rapid-fire thoughts like that can go on for hours with no starting point and no end. I have long forgotten about trying to make sense of the stream of consciousness that comes when my mind goes crazy. I call it chaos. My life is so turbulent that at night I think my brain is either trying to sort everything out, or maybe its just trying to comfort itself. I mean its so used to being un sure and scattered, maybe it goes on a freaky sort of auto-pilot that I am not in control of. Its really hard for me at night, even if my mother is not yanking me out of bed. I remember the first time I cut; it was an attempt to quiet those thoughts. It was around 2 oclock in the morning one Saturday. My sister was sleeping on the couch. My mother was working an overnight shift. I was going to be alone until at least 8 a.m. I was walking around my room, anxiously rifling through my drawers and moving clothes around in my closet. I wasnt looking for anything. I was just trying to occupy my mind with something other than the thoughts in my head. I was breathing heavily and extremely agitated. Its almost like having butterflies in your stomach without the happy feeling that comes with that. I was lightheaded. I was crying off and on all night. I found a box of art supplies my dad and I played with when I was little. Seeing that box, and the memories it held, was just too much. I was sobbing as I opened it. It was almost as if my mind was disconnected from my body. I dumped it on my bed. There were lots of markers, charcoal, pencils, etc. I tried to draw on my hand with one of the markers, but it was all dried out. I opened another, but it wouldnt write either. I frantically opened all the markers and tried to write on my body with them. One or two worked a little bit and I ended up with unidentifiable patterns in black and red on my legs and arms. I would have written all over my body, but the markers were too old. I had to press down pretty hard to make any of them work. I was searching through the pile on the bed for something else to write with and picked up an X-ACTO knife. I turned it over and over in my hands, admiring it. I noted how sharp it was and the need to cut myself overcame me. At first, I just traced tiny lines on the inside of my left thigh. A small star and then a bigger one. They

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were scratches really, not cuts. I got an exhilarating feeling from those first little marks. I immediately wanted to cut more. My mind was quiet now and focused as I went to work. I started to try tiny jabs in a small spot near one of the stars, a few inches from my knee. The blood trickled down in little lines. I dabbed at them with a tissue and just watched the blood bead up at the wounds and drip down. In a few seconds, the bleeding stopped, so I stabbed again and again. It went on for awhile, each round getting deeper and larger until nearly my entire thigh was covered in small slashes. It soothed me like nothing else ever had. I had forgotten about the tissues at some point and just used my t-shirt to sop up the blood. I dont know how long I sat there, but it only seemed like a few minutes. I was really surprised to see that it was beginning to get light outside. I put the bloody shirt under my bed and, for once, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I guess you could say that I was hooked from the start. By the time those first cuts healed, there were similar marks all over my other thigh, my belly and my upper arms. I made sure to keep the wounds where they couldnt be seen when I was dressed. Every so often Id think about using my wrist or my face but I knew there would be a lot of drama if I got caught. I wanted to be able to keep doing it, so I was very careful where I cut. I wonder how my dad would feel if he knew I used his knife to start cutting. I have a little fantasy that hed care, that hed be devastated, that hed try to rescue me. The truth is, he probably wouldnt do anything to help me if he ever did find out. My mom made sure of that. Its not so much that hes a bad person, its just that my father is not someone you can rely on for much. He tries, but he has so many problems that he cant really do anything right. Hes a drug addict and an alcoholic. I can remember him shooting up in front of me when I was really young. My mother would leave for work or the grocery store and hed rush to the phone to call his friend. Theyd pull out their kits and fix it right there in front of me. They would usually tell me to hide my face once they had their syringes ready. They never really checked to make sure I wasnt watching. I always watched. Of course at four or five years old I didnt understand what they were doing, but I knew it wasnt good. It terrified me to watch them start acting the way people act when they are high. Years later, I was watching a movie and saw the characters using heroin. I finally put two and two together and it made me sick. It made me feel used. How could he do that in front of me? Its bad enough he had to do it at all. Bad enough he kept us poor with his habit until he landed himself in jail (and out of my life.) To realize he did that in front of me, like I didnt even matter, was one of the coldest feelings I have ever had in my heart. I can still recall it today. I dont think itll ever go away.

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I was lost in thought when a bunch of people came into the suite where we were sitting. The principal looked surprised and stood up. When no one was looking, my mother caught my eye with a terrifying stare. There were two police officers in the group. I got a little panicky when they asked me to come with them. I thought I was being arrested. It turned out, for the time being, they just wanted to take my statement. The hospital called them because the story they heard from the paramedics was that a student had hit Sister and knocked her out. My mother protested because they insisted on speaking with me alone. Im sure she just wanted to control the situation, and of course keep playing her role of concerned mother. They told her that the best they could do was let her read my statement, but that they had to talk to me alone. We went into the principals office and closed the door. The looks on the cops faces were very serious. It scared me. It occurred to me that this whole situation could get a whole lot uglier if I didnt talk. The first cop was a large, black man with a mean face and a threatening stance. The second was a tall, thin woman with a German accent and a blank, frightening stare. I was terrified that I could end up in jail. I told them exactly what happened, and their expressions softened slightly as I talked. They asked if I usually hurt myself like I had with the pins or if this was the first time. I told them the truth. I didnt really mean to, it just slipped out. I lifted my skirt a little and showed them my leg. The guy gasped and the other one turned away, disgusted. They were standing in front of me, sort of looking down on me. They each took a seat and calmly told me that they were going to have to take me to the hospital. I protested that I wasnt suicidal, just sad. They said they had no choice. It was the law. They had to take me in and they had to tell my mother. I was already really anxious but that put me over the edge. I freaked out completely. I broke down and totally lost control. I tried to regain control of myself but I could not. My mask slipped. My heart was racing. It felt like the world was closing in on me. I couldnt breathe, I was hyperventilating. I was crying. It was embarrassing but I couldnt stop myself. Panic attack. Great, cause I dont already look crazy or anything. I thought I was going to die right there. Once I realized my secret was out and there was no taking it back, all I could do was cry. I felt so stupid. The things going on around me seemed almost like a dream unreal. I had curled up in a ball on the chair and paid no attention as the small room filled with people. First came the principal, and still, all I could do was cry. I felt so stupid. Then came the nurse and the school counselor. They looked aloof and guilty at the same time. No doubt wondering how they could have missed diagnosing my problem. Another officer showed up at some point

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and sat next to me. She was trying to tell me that she has helped people through situations like this before. She said they were going to bring my mother in and explain everything to her. Then wed go to the hospital and everything would be okay. When she mentioned my mother, my inner demons broke free from whatever was holding them back. Suddenly I was screaming; the demons were completely unleashed. I was trying to explain myself and my situation but I couldnt make myself speak sensibly. I was a complete and total mess. I was trying to tell them, "Please, whatever you do, dont go get my mother because she is the problem." I tried to tell them I dont have a bad attitude or emotional problems, just a bitch for a mother. Nothing came out right. I dont remember standing up. I vaguely remember walking around the room, screaming in a jumbled rage of pain, fear and anger. My mother must have heard what was going on. She must have been trying the whole time to decide how to play her hand. When they opened the door, her performance was priceless and I was too much of a mess to protest. Within seconds, she was at my side, pulling me into her theatrical embrace, trying at the same time to calm me down and captivate the room. She didnt know about the cutting so Im sure she figured she could just calm me down and walk right out the door with me. She guided me over to a chair and rather forcefully sat me down. She began talking to everyone as they stared at us, astonished at all that had gone on in the past few minutes. Before she had a chance to work the room, the counselor-cop asked her to sit down. I could see the surprise on her face. She hadnt even considered not being in control of the situation. The officer began to explain to my mother that I had to be taken to the Bryleen Hospital Crisis Unit because I was self-injuring. The fact that I had been hurting myself didnt seem to bother her in the least. She made no mention of it at all. She did not, however, want me going to the hospital. That definitely put a cramp in her style. Doctors were harder to fool than regular people. Before my mother could protest, the officer explained that it was the law and there was no getting around it. She relented and they took me away. Giana had to be picked up from school and brought to my grandmothers house so Ma didnt immediately accompany me to the hospital. It was a huge relief to know she wouldnt be there. As they loaded me into the squad car, students and teachers watching from the windows must have assumed I had been arrested. The funny part was that since I had hiked up my skirt and showed the cops my legs, the whole ensuing drama was about me and not the nun I had knocked out. The officers brought me into the crisis unit and left me under the supervision

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of the head nurse, who actually remembered me. I had been down this road before, after the two times I tried to kill myself. She took me into an office where I met with a counselor named Lizz. Lizz was young and sweet and very easy to talk to. She asked me to tell her what had happened this morning that landed me in the hospital. I told her all about school, the cops and my legs. She looked at the cuts and said, Wow, you must really hurt inside to need to do that. Hearing her validate my pain brought tears to my eyes. It was probably the vulnerable state I was in that really did it. When she asked me to tell her about the cutting, I told her everything. I told her about the night with the X-ACTO knife and the t-shirt. I told her about countless other nights, crying in the darkness of my room with a razor blade or a broken piece of glass in my hand. I told her how dragging slices into my skin somehow quieted the insanity in my mind. She just listened and listened and listened. Before I knew it, I was sobbing and telling her about my morning, about how the cut on my knee was from my mother throwing me to the floor. I must have been going on for an hour when I finally looked up and met her gaze. She asked if I had ever told anyone else about how my mother treated me. I said no. She told me not to worry because she would help me. Her offer to help scared me as much as it relieved me. The fact that my mother was about to find out that I had ratted on her freaked the living shit out of me. All I could think about was having to go home with her again. She would kill me for sure. Or at least lock me in a closet for a few days or not feed me or ... something even more horrible. I hoped it would not play out like that, but my worst fears have been realized more often than not. I couldnt help but be afraid. Lizz asked me what was going through my mind and I told her my fears. She said she believed me and that I didnt need to worry. I was starting to feel better when she informed me that I was going to have to stay in the hospital for the next 72 hours. She said they would help me with all the stress I was dealing with and that it would be really good for me. I wasnt so sure she was right. I had been in the hospital before and left never feeling much better than I did when I went in. Since I didnt have a choice here, I resigned myself to the fact. She left me alone in her office for what seemed like hours. I sat there wondering what was going to happen to us. What would happen to me, to my sister and, of course, to my mother. By the time Lizz came back, my head was spinning. Where would we go if my mother lost custody of us? Where would Giana stay tonight? What if they gave my mother a second chance? What if they let her take Giana home tonight and shes there alone to bear the brunt of my mothers fury? I was beginning to think I had made a mistake. It must have showed on my face because when Lizz finally came back, she continued to

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reassure me. A woman from the social services department came into the office and told me I needed to make another statement. They asked a bunch of questions, and I answered them as honestly as I could. Saying it all a second time really got the water works going. So did seeing the concern on all the faces looking at me. All the pain, fear and frustration I had been hiding for years was pouring out now, and I couldnt have stopped if I wanted to. The hard-ass version of me took a back seat; I had never been so honest in all my life. They took pictures of my knee and asked if I had any other injuries to show them. I said yes and lifted my shirt to show them that my back was also covered in bruises from this morning. They took pictures of that, too. I was embarrassed and so anxious. I wanted to disappear. I knew that this was only the beginning. I was shocked when I looked at the clock and it read 6:30. The entire day was over. I asked where my sister was, and they said that another social worker was taking her to the hospital to talk to a doctor and be checked over for injuries. I asked if I could see her, and they said no. She said I could probably see her the next day. Thinking of her all alone, talking to strangers, made me absolutely sick. I wished I could be there with her. I wished I could tell her that it was okay to tell them the truth. I wanted to sit her on my lap. I was upset that that wouldnt happen right away. Lizz said she was going to take me to my room, and then it was time for her to go home. She assured me that she would be back in the morning but I really didnt want her to leave. I dont think I have ever cried as much as I did that day and certainly never in front of anyone. This was quite a new beginning. As we walked out of her office I realized exactly what kind of new beginning I was going to have to deal with. We went a few steps down a short hallway. There were two sets of double doors we had to get buzzed through. It was odd standing there, waiting to be let into the psych ward. I almost hoped whoever pressed the button to unlock the doors would reject me. There were security guards in the hallway in the secure ward. Beyond the doors, there was a reception desk and a few offices. Off to one side there were tables where people were reading or playing cards. There were also a few uncomfortable looking wooden chairs near a television set with a fuzzy, flickering screen. Where did they find such an old television? Most of the people were wearing hospital gowns and sweat pants. A few were wearing their own pajamas. No one was dressed in street clothes, and everyone looked completely dazed. One or two of them had visitors but most were alone like me. I was in a different ward for my suicide attempts. This place was really different. Lizz pulled a set of bed linens and a small toiletry bag out of a closet. Handing me the items, she guided me into a bedroom room off the main

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living space. The accommodations were meager to say the least. There were two beds, two small lamps and two night tables, all of which were relatively shabby. I definitely didnt feel at home in the room. I supposed I had a roommate because one of the beds was made up with the same kind of gauzy, hospital-issue blankets that I was holding. I didnt see anyone, though, and as if she was reading my mind, Lizz said, "Cara will be happy to finally have a roommate. She has been here for two weeks and we havent had anyone else your age here in a while. Two weeks in here alone? How could she manage? I was already panicky and it hadnt even been 10 minutes since we left the therapist's office. What did she mean, no one else here was our age? I didnt even want to think about living here for three whole days with a room full of crazy adults. Crazy kids would have been bad enough. Lizz helped me make my bed and told me that the psychiatrist would see me in the morning. She told me to, "Just hang out until then." She said dinner would be served in the main room in a few minutes. After that, she said, I could do whatever I wanted. I was starting to wish I had brought a book or some homework. Other than watching the crappy television, I couldnt see what the hell there was to do around here. My roommate wandered in. Lizz introduced us and she might as well have introduced me to a cat. I got pretty much no response from her. I didnt expect to be best friends but a hello would have been nice. Lizz said goodnight and I wandered out to the dining/living/tv room and sat down. There were about 15 people there. Most seemed to be about my mothers age. Some were drooling, all of them were looking at me like they wanted to rape me or else rip me limb from limb. I realized I was still in my school uniform and half-smiled to myself. What a sight I must have been. As I sat there, taking in the room, someone yanked my hair from behind. I jumped up and swung around to meet a hard slap to the face. I wasnt expecting it so I fell to the floor. At once a mass of naked, old, floppy flesh was all over me. I was as disgusted as I was stunned. I couldnt ignore the stench of body odor. No matter how I tried, I couldnt escape the suffocating embrace of whoever was on top of me. I tried to yell but all the air was knocked out of me by the force of the person jumping on me. I didn't even know if it was a man or a woman. Rosie! Rosie, no! screamed one of the nurses. I could hear feet running toward us and knew help was coming, but I was starting to panic. It took a nurse and two orderlies to drag Rosie off me. She was about 65, somewhat overweight and completely naked. As they dragged her back to her room, the nurse smiled and tried to make a joke of what had just happened.

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Thats Rosie, shes, uh, shes very affectionate, she stammered. Well, I thought, thats an understatement. I grunted that I was fine and decided to sit elsewhere to wait for my dinner. Everyone else had eaten earlier, so when it did finally come it was cold. It almost seemed like they had given me something someone else didnt eat. I couldnt touch the tuna sandwich or the tomato soup but I did eat the apple and I took the can of soda with me as I walked around getting to know my surroundings. There was a small courtyard where people were smoking cigarettes at a beat-up wooden picnic table. It was chilly outside. I didnt smoke, so that wasnt really somewhere I wanted to be. Near the television, there was a stack of old novels and a few board games. I walked past them toward what I thought was the bathroom and came across something I hadnt expected. There was a small room with two unoccupied computers on a table. They were old but seemed to be in working order. Lights were flashing on the towers. There were also some chairs and boxes stacked up in the corner. It was a combination storage area and computer room. I switched one on and sat down. I wasnt really that into computers, but compared with the rest of my options, a social networking site was really very inviting. I remembered that everyone at school had a profile for one of the popular friendship sites. I had never been too interested in that sort of thing, but since I had nothing but time on my hands, I decided to check it out. A few hours later I had created a profile, complete with a snazzy background and witty blurbs about myself. All I needed was a picture to complete the page. That would have to come later, though, because I didnt have a camera. I began browsing the profiles of other people my age within 15 miles of my zip code. I got the idea it would be fun to find some of the girls from school. I found a bunch and zeroed in on the ones who made the worst fun of me. I dont know what drew me to their pages, but I couldnt get enough. Their whole pathetic lives were laid out for the whole world to see. One of the girls couldnt stop talking about a boy she liked. I found his profile by clicking on one of the comments he made to her. I actually thought he was pretty cute. I was surprised that little-miss-Sanctamonious-Heart was interested in this guy because he looked a lot like me. He had longish black hair and a sullen look on his face. He seemed angry. I liked him immediately. Something about him was just captivating. I dont know what came over me but I sent him a message. From a little green flashing online now dot next to his picture, I discerned that he would probably read it really soon. At first he was rather cool toward me. He wanted to know who I was and why

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I was saying hello to him. I explained that I was just looking through profiles and found him. I conveniently left out the part about the girls from school. I said I thought he was cute so I might as well give it a chance and say hi. I expected him to say see ya later or better luck next time but instead he asked what my screen name was. As I logged on to IM, my hands were shaky. It could have been because of the little white lie I told about how I found him, but I really think it was because he was so cute. Something about his gaze in the pictures on his photo page spoke to me. He looked like he could understand me somehow. He looked like maybe, just maybe, he had seen some bad stuff in his life, too. blackrvn: HI! gamer14213: yo, sup blackrvn: nothin how r u? gamer14213: k gamer14213: wats yer name? blackrvn: christina gamer14213: sweet ... u got a pic? blackrvn: my ma found a few she didnt like and deleted my whole pics folder gamer14213: DAMN what a bitch blackrvn: oh u have no idea. i hate her gamer14213: lol sounds like we have a little something in common... blackrvn: yer mas a bitch too? lol or wat? gamer14213: yea she is! gamer14213: so wat do u look like? blackrvn: idk average i guess. not pretty not ugly gamer14213: so yer fat? blackrvn: NO ass blackrvn: lol gamer14213: oh ok... just checking. describe yourself then blackrvn: um i have black hair. dress kinda goth/punk. gamer14213: nice ... how big r yer tits? blackrvn: lol woa idk. yer not gonna find out tonight. theyre big tho, wink wink gamer14213: my jaw just hit the floor blackrvn: lol... now tell me about you gamer14213: no tell me about those tits black rvn: maybe later, if yer a very good boy...;) gamer14213: aw man fine. wat do u wanna kno? u seen my pics

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blackrvn: mhmm, tell me about YOU. gamer14213: im an asshole blackrvn: u seem ok to me.. gamer14213: thats cause u dont kno me blackrvn: come on u look like the kind of guy who has tons of friends gamer14213: no not many friends... blackrvn: oh sry.. gamer14213: dont be idc blackrvn: well id kinda like to be yer friend gamer14213: lol maybe. now back to those tits blackrvn: where do u go to school gamer14213: dont go blackrvn: rele?? y? wait, how old r u? gamer14213: kicked out for fighting and making threats. and im 16 blackrvn: thats cool. wish i didnt have school! and im 14. gamer14213: skool sucks. im getting a job soon Just then, a nurse came in and gave me a five-minute warning for lights out. I was shocked that it was already 11 p.m. I had to say goodbye quickly. blackrvn: well my ma needs the computer now so i gotta go. gamer14213: oh... bye. :( blackrvn: why the frown? gamer14213: u didnt ask me my name.. u gonna be back on later? blackrvn: OH! im sry wats yer name blackrvn: and ill prolly be on again in the morning or something. gamer14213: its Michael, or mike. tty tomm. I switched off the monitor just as the nurse came back into the doorway. She ushered me down the hall, back to my room. Cara was in bed, facing away from me. Her light was off. I changed into the hospital pajamas they gave me and got into bed. As I turned off my light, my mind was far away from sleeping. I laid there on my back for a long time without moving, letting my mind wander over the events of the day. I was actually pretty calm until Cara started crying softly in her bed. It piqued my anxiety, and I started to feel bad. My thoughts were getting darker, and I was helpless to control it. I was starting to get a little panicky. I knew there were hours and hours until morning. I wanted to do my best to stay calm, but I knew I was slipping. In a room somewhere else I could hear yelling.

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It sounded painful rather than angry. It scared me a lot. I was starting to feel really alone. Cara was still crying, and I could hear nurses hurrying around, tending to whomever was yelling. I felt like a magnet was sucking me into the bed. I was trying to focus on my breathing and just calm down but it wasnt working. I was getting worse. I started shaking. I couldnt breathe, then suddenly I was breathing faster and faster and my thoughts were overwhelmingly hopeless. I had flashes of my mother dragging me out of bed, flashes of her hitting me. I felt like I could die at any second. I could hear myself start to yell, but I really didnt know I was doing it. I was crying really hard. Cara was crying, too, and louder now. I dont know who upset whom, but listening to her was not helping me at all. Suddenly the light switched on and a nurse came in with some orderlies. The two men held me down and the nurse pulled my gown way up, almost over my head. I was fucking terrified at that point. No one had ever tried to hold me still like that during a panic attack. Come to think of it, no one had ever even seen me have one before today. I couldnt see clearly because I was crying and terrified. Why was I laying there naked? I didnt know what they were going to do to me. I screamed for them to stop. I screamed for help. I kicked the nurse hard. She was getting some pills for me off a tray. The pills flew everywhere, and that made her really mad. Standing next to my bed, she grabbed my thigh and crossed my left leg over my right. She forced me onto my side, exposing my butt to anyone who was watching. I was humiliated, hysterical. The last thing I remember is a really sharp pain in my right cheek. I woke up the next morning covered in a sheet with my gown still around my neck. I was woozy and achy. It took a few minutes before I realized that Cara wasnt there. I glanced at the clock and was pretty surprised to see that it was a few minutes past noon. I got up and looked around. I didnt have anything to wear but my uniform. I put it on and walked out. A few of the nurses commented on my bad night. I sat down at the table because I knew it was almost lunch time. A guy in a sweater sat down across from me. He introduced himself as Jack, my psychiatrist. He asked me how I was feeling. I said I needed something else to wear. He said my mother was going to bring me some things soon when she came to visit. When he mentioned that my mother would be visiting, I was shocked. Last night I was told I didnt have to see her, that I would be safe. To hear that she was on her way was really bad news. It meant she had sold them her line of bullshit and that they didnt believe me anymore. I was dumbstruck. I sat there, slack-jawed, across from Jack. I wondered what the hell was going to happen to

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me. I was in a mental hospital and they didnt believe my story. I knew then and there that I was screwed. No wonder they responded so severely to my panic attack ... they think Im nuts! After lunch, Jack asked me to follow him to his office upstairs. He sat me down and asked me to tell my story again. He said it just like that, Tell me your story, the one you told Rachel. I told him everything, and he sat there stone faced. He nodded a few times but the look of caring I had seen on everyone the day before wasnt there. Oh man, I was right. I knew it. My mother had tricked them. When I was done, I wiped away the tears and hoped beyond hope that he believed me. But he didnt. He said I had a very interesting story but that my mother had told a very different one. He also said Giana did not corroborate one word of my lies. She had been examined by a doctor and a psychologist, and neither had found any sign of abuse. I couldnt believe what I was hearing. I tried to tell him she was probably just too afraid to talk. He didnt listen. Jack said that after my three-day stay at Bryleen, I would be transferred to a different facility so I could start to get better. I didnt know where they were sending me, but I was scared. I started to slip again. I was shaking and starting to get panicky. I couldnt believe my mother was able to convince them I was lying. I was in shock but at the same time not surprised. I was sobbing, and I remember yelling a lot before I finally blacked out. I woke up in my bed around 8 p.m. I dont know if they drugged me, but I assume they did. My head was pounding. I felt terrible. I wandered into the common room. I looked around, trying to find someone to talk to. Cara was nowhere to be found. There were some older guys sitting on the couch near the TV. Not like really old, maybe 22 or so. I didnt feel like getting treated like a kid or being hit on so I continued to wander. When I walked by the computer room, I realized I had almost forgotten about it. I was freaked out about my situation, but I sat down with a little smile on my face remembering Michael and my new profile. I logged on to IM right away. Within 15 seconds I had a message. gamer14213: hey where u been? blackrvn: sry i had a bad night ... As soon as I typed it, I knew I didnt want him to know that much. I didnt want him to know I was locked in a psych ward. I mean, who would want a brand new friend who couldnt do anything or go anywhere? He might even be scared of me. Worse yet, I didnt want any information about me getting back t o

the girls at school, even accidentally. I realized I was going to have to leave bits and pieces of the truth out until I was out of the hospital in a few weeks or so. gamer14213: why wat happened? u ok? blackrvn: yea im ok now. had a big fight with my ma thats all gamer14213: oh she grounded u? blackrvn: yea gamer14213: oh cause I was gonna ask u if u wanna do something tonight. yer profile says u live right near me. blackrvn: oh no i cant gamer14213: did i say something wrong? i thought we hit it off last time.. blackrvn: no! not at all... of course not. its just.. my mas a bitch. im still grounded. Im sneeking on right now. gamer14213: Oh! lol when u done being grounded? blackrvn: idk wen she feels like it i guess. gamer14213: u didnt ask? blackrvn: nah its safer not to. gamer14213: safer? blackrvn: yea gamer14213: she hit u? blackrvn: eh i can handle it. dont worry. what u up to tonight? gamer14213: hey... u didnt rele answer... u ok? u need help? blackrvn: like i said im fine. i can handle her. thanks for asking tho gamer14213: u dont want to tell me... No, I didnt want to tell him. I didnt want to tell anyone, ever. I couldnt believe I had told him this much. I dont know if it was because I had told the story so many times over the past few days or if I just felt comfortable with him. I just decided to kinda open up a little. It seemed like he wanted to know. It seemed like he would understand. I went for it. blackrvn: its embarassing gamer14213: dont be. i kno wat its like blackrvn: u got a crazy ma too? lol gamer14213: kinda... ya blackrvn: honestly I never rele talk about it gamer14213: no me neither gamer14213: how did you find my profile?

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blackrvn: idk y? gamer14213: just seems odd u found me blackrvn: maybe its fate ;) gamer14213: I cant wait to meet u. can u use the phone? blackrvn: nope gamer14213: :( blackrvn: lol soon! ok? gamer14213: k blackrvn: hey i should go before she catches me! gamer14213: ok. next time i wanna hear bout those tits lol. i didnt forget blackrvn: neither have i .... ttys gamer14213: yup I felt a little weird lying to him, but it wasnt like it was anything big. I mean, my mother was definitely crazy. She did hit me. We just werent together right now. If we were, she would. I couldnt help but wonder what was going on at home and in my mothers head. Was she nervous or was she her usual calculating self? I wish I knew what she was thinking. I hated not knowing! I had so many questions. I really, really wanted to see my sister! I wanted to tell her it was okay, that Id be home soon. I missed her so much. My mind drifted to that word Jack had said earlier, facility. Where the hell do they think Im going, I wondered. I couldnt imagine where I might go or how long they could keep me. Realizing I might be in the hospital for a while made me very nervous. I didnt let myself start to panic but I was chilled to the bone with the idea of staying for a long time. I knew I was going to have to be smart about this. If my mother was a master manipulator, then I had learned from the best. If she was going to lie about me, I was gonna tell the truth about her. In the end someone would have to believe me, wouldnt they? There is no such thing as a perfect lie. She would have to slip up somehow! I didnt like it, but I knew I was going to have to play this game by her rules. She mustve been so shocked to hear that I talked to someone. She had been abusing me for years with no threat of a whisper to anyone. That day at school was different, though. Sometimes things just need to be said. Sometimes there is no keeping them inside. I found myself outside by the picnic table. I really hadnt been paying close attention to where I was going. I made eye contact with the only other person out there and immediately felt terrible. I dont know how long I was invading his privacy before I noticed him. Sitting on the bench in front of me was one of the

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guys I had seen by the TV earlier. He was sobbing. He looked right at me. He wasnt angry that I was there. He seemed a little ashamed, but kept crying. I had never really seen a man cry before. My heart went out to him. It wasnt like me at all, but I sat down across from him and reached out my hand. To my surprise, he reached back and held onto me pretty firmly. He cried for a few more minutes before I asked him his name. Jeremy was 26, but he had a baby face. He was cute in his own way, but not my usual type. He was a guy who shopped at the mall and got his hair cut on a strict schedule. I could see a lot of pain in his eyes. He offered me a cigarette. I had never smoked in my life, but I took it. I didnt really smoke it, just held it while it burned. It was something to look at while he spilled his guts to me. He said hed been depressed since his fiance died in a car accident. They were taking a road trip when they were both 21. He was driving and fell asleep. He blamed himself for her death. After years of ever-worsening depression, he decided to take his life. He tried to hang himself in his closet. After he became unconscious, the pole broke and he woke up to his roommate screaming and slamming on his chest in an untrained attempt at CPR. She had heard the crash when he fell. Had she not found him when she did, he would have succeeded. The ligature was still intact, cutting off his air supply. She had to work quickly to remove the tie that was wound so tightly around his neck. He put his head down on his arms, and I crossed to the other side of the table to sit next to him. I put my hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back a little. He wasnt crying anymore but I could tell he needed it. Being able to comfort him made me feel good. When the nurse gave us our five-minute warning, he jerked his head up nervously, making me jump back a little. She gave us a somewhat reproachful look but said nothing. I realized that the way he reacted made her think something was going on that maybe shouldnt be. I had to wonder if he knew that I wasnt being even remotely sexual with him. The way he seemed so tense and guilty was a little off-putting. He walked far ahead of me as we headed inside. I kinda laughed at his reaction and hoped he didnt think something had happened out there that really hadnt. I was legitimately tired when I walked into my room and didnt care that Cara was crying again. I shoved some tissue in my ears and turned off my light so the room was nice and dark. I stared at the wall, thinking about Jeremy. I wanted him to know my intentions were nothing but friendly, but at the same time realized that he might somehow be useful. There was something about him that made me think I should keep my cards close to my chest.

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I heard her booming voice long before she rounded the corner in the hallway. She was telling them about her parking spot and they were hanging on her every word. I never could understand how my mother commanded such attention. Both nurses smiled and nodded as they escorted her. My first instinct when I heard her was to run. I did not want to see her. I was so afraid they might leave me alone with her. Even if she didnt hit me, her words could be just as painful and frightening as any beating. I stayed put, however, and waited for them to bring her to me. For once, I was glad for that loud voice of hers, it gave me about 30 seconds notice before she was standing in front of me. It gave me a chance to get my guard up. She strode down the corridor in a black silk dress and sensible-yet-sexy shoes. Hair perfect, every accessory tastefully in place. She pulled behind her a rolling suitcase, presumably for me. She saw me sitting at the table and we made eye contact. Her pace quickened. She let go of the suitcase and jogged toward me. Once again, she was going for the dramatic entrance. Baby-girl, she said, a little too loudly, when she was about 10 feet from me. There seemed to be a tear or two in her eyes. Baby-girl, she whispered, crouching before me, her face level with mine and only a few inches away. She made me sick. I looked her right in the eye with a blank expression on my face. Sweetie, she cooed as she caressed my cheek with an outstretched hand. I couldnt fully contain my straight face when she touched me. I flinched ever so slightly. Her eyes flashed angrily for one brief second. Whats happening? What happened at school yesterday? she asked. She was flawless in her fake demeanor. Faux concern for her sweetie, her babygirl was making me feel violated. Sap was dripping from her mouth, but I couldnt stop thinking about her eyes. She showed herself to me with that flash. I knew who and what she was. Is that the real reason she hates me? Because I know that she isnt the perfect person she presents to everyone? Because I know her flaws? I know she's weak and selfish. I know that she is cunning but not really all that smart. I knew there was a way to expose her for what she really was, but it would take time. Who the hell does this woman think she is? Usually I was so scared of her that I didnt have time to question her motives. For the first time ever, I saw her completely as she was: Pitiful. She remained crouched in front of me. I brought my hands to my chest with a look of mock sadness on my face.

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Her face softened, and she asked Would you like to come home? My stomach turned. I punched the bitch square in the face. She didnt see it coming and went sprawling backwards. Her nose was bleeding. I had never struck my mother before. I immediately felt guilty; then a rush of something else hit me. Rage like I had never felt before came over me and for the first time, I was not the one cowering on the floor. I kicked her in the ass and in the ribs. She yelped. I began screaming, How does it feel to be the one on the floor? How does it feel to be the one bleeding? I hate you!" I was incensed. I kept kicking, slapping. It was all a blur. When a nurse tried to get me away from her, I punched her, too. It couldnt have been more than a minute or two before the orderlies pulled me off her and back toward my room. They restrained me and gave me a shot. My mother came into the room and stood at the door. She had an ice pack on her nose, and her perfect dress and accessories were now looking a little less perfect. The medicine they gave me didnt knock me out, it just made me extremely mellow. My mother sat by my bed while Jack and the nurses spoke to me. I was too drugged to respond intelligently. They explained that I would have to be restrained until I was no longer a threat to myself or anyone else. They said I couldnt have visitors after an outburst like that, so my mother would have to leave for the day. I was getting drowsy. Jack allowed my mother to say goodbye to me, but he stayed in the room. She leaned in close and smoothed my hair. She fixed my blanket, leaned over and whispered, Hate is a strong word. You watch yourself, you little bitch. Then, just loud enough for Jack to hear, she said, I love you. I marveled at how twisted she was. Telling my mother that I hated her was a hot-button issue. I had only said it once before, and her response was unforgettable. She dragged me to her bedroom, threw me on the bed and beat me with an extension cord she tore out of the wall. She broke the lamp that was plugged into it. I think I was 8 at the time. I had red and purple welts everywhere. She kept me home from school for two days so no one would see the worst of them. I wore long sleeves for a week. The entire time she swung the coiled cord she said, over and over, "You hate me? You hate your mother? I will show you hate, little girl." I had hoped to elicit a similar response in the hallway, but it didn't work. I laid there for hours in a confusing state of awake-yet-asleep. Drugged with who-knows-what, waiting to become less of a threat to myself. Even though I was terrified, I had to laugh at the whole situation. How the hell could this be

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happening to me? How the hell was I going to get out of it? About three seconds before I punched my mother, I decided that she wasnt going to get the best of me without a huge fight. Usually, I allowed her to scare me into submission. But being there, in the hospital, made all the difference. I knew that anything she did to me would have to be done in front of someone. She wasnt going to be able to take me home and punish me. I decided, then and there, that I would do my best to bring out the real mother she was so they would believe me. It could take awhile because my mother is a master at what she does, but I knew that, eventually, the need to hurt me would overcome her and she would be exposed. She would say or do something to betray herself. I just had to be smart and play my cards right. As the medicine began to wear off, I realized that my arms were asleep and I was in pain. I yelled for a nurse, but no one came. I was still a little groggy and probably not yelling very loud. My door was only open a crack and my roommate was nowhere in sight. I decided to wait until I heard someone walk by. A few minutes later, I heard movement. Hey! I yelled, and Jeremy poked his head in. Can you call a nurse for me? I asked. I wanna get out of these. He smiled and walked in. Can I help? he asked. The restraints were basically padded leather straps attached to the bed. No, I said, you need a key. I was tied in such a way that I could barely move anything but my head. Jeremy shut the door. He had an odd smile on his face. My heart sunk. You are in quite a predicament, arent you? The sadness and innocence I saw in him at the picnic table had been replaced with something else. My heart sank a little more, remembering the nurse and my mother changing me into a hospital gown. Suddenly, I felt naked. The only thing separating me from him was a thin sheet. He pulled it back, glancing toward the door. He reached under my gown, caressing my inner thighs. I winced. I didnt want him touching me. I was a virgin. I wasnt even sure what he planned to do. Last night I had thought he was so sweet; now I was really scared. Did he think I wanted this? Did he care? He was smiling the way a pirate smiles in a cartoon before someone walks the plank. I knew this was going to happen whether I struggled or not. He was going to enjoy it. I didnt want to be raped. I was terrified. My mothers boyfriend molested me when I was little. It left me feeling uneasy about sex. I had never been in a situation like this where force was not involved. I had seen my share of movies, though, so I played along. I told myself it wasnt rape if I said yes. He would be gentle if I said yes, wouldnt he? He was caressing both thighs,

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alternating sides and brushing against my crotch. I was shaking. Dont, I whispered, pleadingly. When he didnt respond, I asked him to be gentle. I relaxed my body as much as I could. I looked up at him submissively, seductively. His eyes widened. Perhaps he would rather have taken me by force, but he looked happy nonetheless. He untied the gown where it was cinched at my waist and neck, pulling it over my arms and behind my head. I couldnt move. I was laying there naked, in front of a stranger. He hopped on the bed and straddled me. He still had his hospital-issue, two- piece pajamas on. He touched my neck, my face and my breasts. I smiled when he looked at me, but as he put his mouth to my nipples, I grimaced. I didnt know that much about sex. When he began biting my breasts, I didnt know if it was normal or not, but it hurt. I didnt bleed, but I thought Id have bruises. He kissed me on the mouth. His breath was stale and coming in heavy pants. I pulled against the restraints but they still allowed me no movement whatsoever. He nibbled my belly the same way he had bitten my breasts. He tickled me a little bit; I was giggling softly but I was terrified. I wanted this to be over. Why was it taking so long? When he began sniffing my crotch, I was surprised. When his mouth touched my labia, I was shocked. I had heard of oral sex but had only thought of it abstractly. He held my hips firmly as his tongue flickered around my privates. I was starting to become aroused in spite of myself. It was like I had two sides, one saying yes and the other saying no. The yes side was ashamed and the no side was angry. I laid still. He let my hips go and began putting a finger or two inside me. I was very tense, and he knew it. Up until that point, I had been able to hide my fear. He asked if it was my first time, and I said that it was. He opened the drawer in my bedside table and removed a small bottle of baby oil from the toiletry bag they gave me. He slid the restraints up the side of the bed so that my knees were bent. I was lying there spread-eagled, unable to move from whatever position he placed me in. He squirted about half the baby oil all over me down there and started to rub it in. I felt good and disgusted at the same time. I was confused. He ran a finger along my butt crack a few times and I quivered in disgust. He mistook my disgust for something else and kept doing it. After a few minutes, that same finger was inside. He was sodomizing me, first with one finger, then with two. I had tears in my eyes, which he ignored. He slid his pajama pants down; he had nothing on underneath them. He crouched over me and put it in my mouth. I gagged. He loved it. He told me what to do and I did it. He gripped my knees, opening me as wide as possible. He put some of the oil on himself and smiled. After touching himself for a few minutes, he raped me. With him inside me, I could no longer hide my disgust. I began to cry softly.

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He knew I was scared. He knew I didnt want to. He didnt care. It hurt, but not as much as I thought it would. He was grunting with pleasure and sweating. I hated him. I couldn't understand why it almost felt good. I moaned a bit through my tears. I was completely disgusted with myself. When he was done, he wiped me off with a small towel and fixed my gown. He wiped my tears, smoothed my hair and winked at me. Ill go get a nurse to untie you now, he said. See you soon. I was a complete mess. I zoned out. I couldnt believe what had just happened. I probably looked lifeless to anyone who might have seen me, but my head was spinning . Why didnt I yell for help? Why didnt I fight? I should have bitten him really hard. I should have screamed. I couldnt think while it was happening. It was like I was a little girl again. Submitting to someone hurting me was so normal that I had never thought of fighting. It made me sick because any other person would have fought. Anyone else would have known what to do, but not me. I had no confidence in myself in that way. Being molested makes everything different. You dont even know how or why, but it is different. That feeling of being used doesnt ever fully go away. It saps your self confidence until you really are not sure of anything. The only way I ever dealt with it was denial. I pretended it didnt happen. I pretend that everything bad in my life never happened. I hide. Thats what I do. I pretend to be strong, but really Im a turtle with its head in its shell. Im afraid of anyone knowing me. It has been ingrained in me to keep bad stuff inside. When the nurses came in, they thought my demeanor was because of the medicine they had given me. I was totally dazed, and they were unfazed. Why wouldnt they be? If they had noticed that something was wrong I would have told them, but they did not. They took off the restraints and gave me more medicine. It was supposed to knock me out. I could feel it begin to work almost immediately. I welcomed it. I wished I had more. Exhausted and shaky as I was, I got out of bed and put on underwear and the sweat pants my mother had brought for me along with a few long-sleeved shirts and really thick socks. I felt so naked, even with all those clothes on. I climbed under the blankets and drifted off to nothing. When I finally walked into the common room, I was shocked when the nurse said I had been in my room for almost two days. I had finally stopped crying and shaking. I hadnt been paying much attention to the time. They brought me food a few times, I guess, but I ignored it. Now, however, I was starving. I took the nurse up on her offer to go see if she could find me some food. Dinner had already been served. After dinner, the kitchen staff goes home, but she found

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some fruit and cereal for me. It was better than nothing and gone in an instant. I wanted more than anything to be home. Even with my mother and the usual drama. I was now pretty much terrified of everyone in the entire ward. I hadnt seen him since he raped me, but I was very guarded. I looked for him around every corner. I decided not to tell anyone. I didnt want to talk about it. I didnt want to think about it. My goal was to completely forget, so when it all came pouring out, I was pretty surprised. gamer14213: HEY where have u been? thought u forgot me lol blackrvn: aw im sry gamer14213: its ok. where did u go i was worried blackravn: eh ive been kinda out of it the past few days. wat have u been up to? gamer14213: heh out of it, thats one way to put it.. blackrvn: ?? tell me gamer14213: i kinda got kicked out of my house.. blackrvn: wat! how, wat happened?? gamer14213: doesnt matter... im staying with a friend blackrvn: wat do u mean it doesnt matter. of course it does.. what happened hun? gamer14213: i had a fight with my mothers bf Fred. he screamed at me. after i finally took enough I screamed back and my mother got involved. she took his side over mine. i lunged at her. i didnt connect or nethng, but he grabbed me and threw me out the door. she didnt stop him... blackrvn: oh hunny! r u ok? gamer14213: fine blackrvn: rele? u sure? gamer14213: i didnt even have my coat... im sick now. Im glad yer on cause i missed u.. blackrvn: u kno wat, i missed u too. i had a fucked up couple of days too. Oh man, here we go again. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I couldnt do it without risking our friendship. If he knew where I was, hed ditch me for sure and I couldnt take that; I needed him. I figured that as long as the big details were true, the little ones didnt matter. Plus I really needed to get the story off my chest. gamer14213: wat happened? blackrvn: i... gamer14213: wat hun? its ok

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blackrvn: i... got raped gamer14213: WHA? omg... ill kill him... where are u now? blackrvn: no its ok... im home gamer14213: where? im coming over!! blackrvn: no my ma will freak out. seriously. she thinks its my fault. she is rele mad at me.. gamer14213: your fault? how? blackrvn: she said i seduced him. i didnt tho i swear. i was just being nice. i wouldnt sleep with him.. gamer14213: wait...who? someone u kno did this? blackrvn: yea... her bf. gamer14213: wat?? ill kill that fucker... where are u! where do u live?? blackrvn: rele u cant come. id love to see u now but i just cant. soon i promise but not tonight gamer14213: i just wanna see yer ok... give u a hug. please?? blackrvn: im sry.. i appreciate it a lot tho gamer14213: can i call u? blackrvn blackrvn: oh i hope yer not mad.. i just cant. shed be more mad if u came. A few more tense minutes passed and he must have decided it was okay that I didnt tell him were I was. gamer14213: ok... so wat happened? blackrvn: idk we watched a movie together and he sat rele close to me. i felt weird but i didnt say nothing. my ma came in and told him to move over and sit by her. gamer14213: ok.. blackrvn: then i guess i fell asleep at some point. I woke up with him taking me to bed... like leading me and my ma calling behind me goodnight. gamer14213: oh... blackrvn: i didnt kno nothing was wrong till he started taking off my clothes... and idk it just happened. gamer14213: i yelled out and my mom opened the door and started freaking. at first i was relieved but then i saw she was more mad at me than him. gamer14213: but how could she be blackrvn: idk...

At that moment the nurse walked in and told me that she had allowed me to stay up late because I had slept all day, but since it was almost 1 a.m. she insisted I go to bed, Now! I was shocked to hear it was that late. I think it was that moment when I realized I was really into this guy ... blackrvn: gtg... im sry. tty tomm gamer14213: no wait... blackrvn: sry I signed off before he could say anything else. That night I dreamed of chaos. Swirling things attacking me. It was a lonely, awful, abstract dream. I woke up a few times in tears but eventually dozed off only to repeat the dream. During the moments when I was awake, I thought of my conversation with Michael. I never asked him where he was staying. I hoped he was safe. I wish he could have come to hold me like he wanted. I didnt even think about the fact that I was lying to him because I knew Id tell him the truth as soon as I got out of this place. They transferred me to an annex of Bryleen, across town, a few days after the rape. I was relieved to be away from Jeremy, but the place wasnt a whole lot better. I couldn't believe I was still in the hospital. I was in therapy every day although I never really said much of anything. My counselor was oblivious and I had no respect for her whatsoever. She continued to try to convince me that my problems were my fault, and I continued to pretend she might be right. She didn't listen to a word I said, just spouted on and on about admitting the truth. She thought my cutting was ridiculous and tried to make me feel stupid about it. Thanks, lady, big help. I had random body checks to see that I wasn't injuring myself. The thing is, my mother was my main trigger so with her out of the picture, not cutting was relatively easy. Sometimes I really wanted to. If things got really bad I'd just get online and talk to Michael instead of searching for something sharp. Instead of looking for pain to comfort me, I looked for him. I had only known him a little while, but I had never felt so close to anyone. He really made my life seem almost okay. Almost worth living. If only I could get out of the hospital and see him. It was getting harder to avoid talking on the phone with him. I didn't want him to see where I was calling from. Also, they monitored our phone calls. I couldn't risk the staff knowing about him. I didn't want them punishing me by saying I couldn't use the computer. We were always getting punishments for one thing or another. That didnt keep him from asking, constantly, to speak with me. I hated saying no. I needed him. He said he only wanted to hear my voice so the girl in

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his dreams would finally speak to him. It broke my heart to say no, because I wanted so badly to talk to him, too. I mean, he hadn't even seen a picture of me. If I was gonna talk to him, I'd have to tell him the truth and I was sure that he wouldn't understand. I'd have to wait until I saw finally him in person, and then I could come clean and we could be together without any secrets. My mother came to visit me a few times a week, and I was getting to the point where I almost looked forward to it because at least I could leave for a few hours and take a walk with her. She was still her normal self, but she kept her meanness and violence in check because we were in public. She couldn't hit me because they would see the marks. She never neglected to mention that as soon as I was out, I was hers again. I knew it would be hell once I finally returned home. I was scared, but it didn't matter much. For now, I was stuck where I was. One day we went to the park and sat by the water, feeding the ducks. I couldn't believe that this was my mother next to me because she was so calm. The next time she came I asked if we could go back to the park and we did. She must have liked it because it became a regular thing. After a few afternoons of wandering around the same park with her, she let me walk around the lake while she sat on a nearby bench. The lake was man-made and fairly small. A few hundred yards across at most. She could see me clearly, no matter where I was. I liked the freedom of walking alone, and she let me do it every few days or so. I'm still not sure why she didn't want to monitor me. Perhaps she was just being lazy. One day, on my third or fourth time around the lake, I saw a boy who reminded me of Michael and my heart nearly stopped. Smiling stupidly to myself I surmised that I may have finally found a way for us to meet! If he could come to the park, maybe we could walk together, even if it was just for a few minutes. I was so excited that I began jogging around the lake instead of walking. Once I had finally exhausted myself physically from running, and mentally from planning, I sat down by my mother. She commented on how sweaty I was. I told her I needed the exercise. She didn't argue. My mind was racing, and my heart was on fire. I guessed that this was what everyone meant when they said you can't really understand love until you feel it. I was feeling it! When my mother said it was time to go back, I didn't even mind. I was dying to get on the computer to make a plan with Michael. I hoped he would be as excited as I was. I knew he would be. He was online almost all the time. I thought it was kinda sad that he never really went anywhere or did anything with anyone. But at the same time it was great that I could basically talk to him anytime I wanted to. After a quick shower to remove the jogging sweat, I jumped online as fast as I could. My hair was still dripping wet but I didn't care.

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gamer14213: HEY babe!! blackrvn: hi gamer14213: OMG i missed u. wats up? blackrvn: not much. just got back from jogging. gamer14213: u jog? blackrvn: do now lol. started today gamer14213: oh.. lol blackrvn: my ma took me to the park. we have been going like, every few days... i thought maybe u could meet me there one day. gamer14213: what park?? where? when?? blackrvn: idk wen we are gonna go again. but i'll tell u right before. Its Delaware Park near Forrest Lawn Cemetery. do u kno it? gamer14213: r u serious? i live rite there!!! oh baby finally i get to see u. can u meet me there now? blackrvn: no hun... remember my ma has to take me. we need to plan this out right. gamer14213: ok baby whatever u say. tell me what to do and i'll do it. ooooh i wanna see u so bad. i need to see u. blackrvn: ok, so we have been going every few days or so. we go walk together, my ma sits down and lets me walk some more. i was jogging today because i was so excited thinking we can maybe finally meet this way! gamer14213: how am i gonna kno its u? i never saw u? blackrvn: dont worry i kno wat u look like. it'll be ok. i'll find u. gamer14213: ok. and i kinda kno wat u look like... u told me at least blackrvn: lol plus i'll be the one walking around the lake... or jogging gamer14213: alright so wats the plan? blackrvn: I cant leave my ma's sight or she'll flip. if u come and sit on a bench and watch for two ppl walking around the lake... when my ma goes and sits down just start walking in the opposite direction as me and we will end up face to face. gamer14213: what r we gonna do wen we see eachother? can i hug u? blackrvn: no... she cant see that. we can prolly only talk for a few minutes... i'm sry. i rele wanna see u even if its quick. gamer14213: if she isnt looking can i please hug u... blackrvn: she'll be looking. she never takes her eyes off me gamer14213: k.. :( blackrvn: hey..no frowny faces... i wanna hug u too. and we will. soon. I'll pretend like i'm giving u directions and we can walk together a little maybe..

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gamer14213: so i only have like 5 minutes with u? blackrvn: better than a computer screen.. gamer14213: i'd wait all day for one minute blackrvn: oh Michael... gamer14213: so when, when, whennn??????? blackrvn: idk. the next time we go i'll try to jump on and tell u rite away. gamer14213: k i'll stay signed on no matter wat... if u leave im me right away even if i'm gone. i'll see it and come find u blackrvn: yay!! o i cant wait. gamer14213: same here. when are u going next?? blackrvn: lol idk she just kinda takes me wen she feels like it. gamer14213: damn. im not gonna be able to sleep tonite! blackrvn: neither will i!!!!11

That night I laid there creating scenerios in my head of how our visit might go. I drifted off to sleep for the first time in quite awhile, without my mind wandering to memories of bad things. After a little more time passed, I started getting compliments from the nurses on my attitude. I think they were beginning to think therapy was working, but I was just playing along. I was happy, though, probably happier than I had ever been. Its sort of a surprising thought, one being happiest in the psych ward. I was in love. Not even the hospital could dampen that feeling. Love, paired with not living with my mother, made me feel normal. Who knew it was even possible? Of course my mother and I were still taking our walks, but not having to be around her on a daily basis was great. I was beginning to worry that Ma wouldnt take me to the park once it started to get really cold outside. Most years it would have been snowing by now. I was afraid to ask, but she confirmed my fears one particularly cold afternoon. She told me to grab my coat and commented to the nurse that soon wed have to start finding someplace to exercise other than the park because it was snowing. Walking toward my room for my coat, I realized it was now or never. I rushed to the computer and logged in. It seemed to take forever but finally my friend list popped up. I was terrified Id get caught, but even more scared that this might be my only chance to see Michael before I got out of the hospital. I clicked his name and typed as fast as I could. I didnt even wait for him to answer, knowing that if they found me on the computer thered be no trip to the park or anywhere else. I ran to my room and

grabbed my coat as fast as I could and returned to my mother. No one even asked why I had been gone so long.

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2. Earth

I came back from the bathroom and saw that I had a new message on the screen. Weird that I never heard the chime. I had to look twice once I read it. blackrvn: HEY!!! HEY!! we are on our way to the park NOW. Oh man, I had been waiting so long for that message that once I saw it I almost couldnt believe it! I was even more shocked to see that it had popped up 15 minutes earlier! FUCK!! Why did I have to pick that very time to take a shit? I threw on my boots and grabbed my jacket. I ran out the door, still kicking myself, running in the direction of the park. I had walked this route at least 10 times now. Not to seem like a stalker, I knew that lake from every angle, I knew every inch of the park. I didnt want to leave anything to chance. This girl; this fucking girl. No one would believe what she does to me. Its like terror and joy all at once. I didnt tell her I had been staking out the park. I didnt want her to think I was weird. I had a lot of time on my hands since I got kicked out of my moms place. My heart was pounding but it wasnt just because I was running. Usually when I hear about people meeting friends or lovers online I just laugh. I mean it seems impossible to really get to know someone without seeing or talking to them. I'm not sure how, but something about this girl touched my heart. I needed to catch my breath so I slowed my pace as I neared the trail that led to the lake. I tried to look unassuming as my eyes darted left and right around the park. There were not many people there that day because the park season pretty much ended in Buffalo once the snow started flying. Pretty soon there would be ice skating on the lake, and that would bring people back. This in-between time during late fall and early winter leaves Delaware Park pretty empty.

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I didnt see her right away, and I started to get a little panicky. What if her mother decided not to let her come today after all? What if they had cut the walk short and I had missed them? What if she changed her mind and no longer wanted to see me? My eyes were starting to blur a little in frustration. I was halfway around the lake now and I couldnt see her anywhere! My breath was coming kind of quickly as I tried to keep myself under control. I wanted to see her face so badly! I had to see if she looked in real life like she did in my dreams. I needed a face to match this heart I had grown to know. Three-quarters of the way around the lake I was ready to give up. I was heartbroken. I slowed my pace from a jog to a slow walk. I looked at the ground for a few paces and not three yards away I saw a set of very sexy black boots walking quickly toward me. I paused and allowed my eyes to wander from the boots to the close-fitting black pants and a rather warmlooking jacket fastened only at the very bottom. Under the coat, she wore a relatively form-fitting black- and red-striped sweater. Her hair hung down in long black sheets and swirled around a little in the wind. She was getting closer, and I was confused because she was moving very quickly. I didnt realize what was happening until I was on the ground. She had run right into me! With the fluffy flakes of this winters first snowstorm floating through the air, not accumulating on the ground but swirling around on it, I looked up at her. She was squarely on top of me and looked me right in the eyes. You could say we had an instant connection. I could hear my heart beating in my chest and at the same moment could feel her heart pounding as well, right through her sweater and everything. I couldnt let you walk right past me, she whispered, almost inaudibly. I could tell you didnt see me. She was right about that; I hadnt seen her. I was so freaked out that Id miss her, I couldnt find her in the crowd. Then again, she had the benefit of having seen pictures of me. I only had her description of herself to go on. Let me tell you, that leaves a lot of room for speculation. Funny thing is, she looked almost exactly as I thought she would. If anything, she was more beautiful. However, I could never have imagined the look in her eyes as she gazed down at me. Nor could I have conjured the scent of her hair or the silky way it brushed against my cheeks as she got off me and stood up. She extended her hand and helped me to my feet. Smiling, she apologized. We waved to her mother who had started walking toward us, presumably to check and see if we were all right. She would be in front of us in a very few moments. There was no time for either of us to say much of anything. All I could do was

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turn my head so her mother wouldnt be able to read my lips as I whispered, I love you. She grabbed my shoulder and winked at me, mouthing inaudibly, I love you, too. She released my shoulder just as her mother walked up behind her. Wow, sorry, Im really glad you are okay, she stammered, believably. Im so clumsy. Yes, she really is, her mother said in a somewhat cold but joking tone, reaching out her hand to shake mine. When my hand was in hers, she released me almost immediately. She seemed to not like me very much. I guess I wasnt surprised from what Id heard about her. If you are both sure you are all right, well be on our way, she said, glancing at me and then at her daughter. You both look fine to me, lets get you back, she murmured. With that, she turned around and started walking away. It was obvious she expected her daughter to follow immediately. I knew that our visit would be quick, but I hated to see her leave so soon. She looked me in the eyes for one more second, longingly. She turned away, and within a few minutes they were out of sight. It killed me not to follow them. It had been my plan all along to follow her home. I had never expected her mother to see me. Now, following would be way too risky. I sort of tailed them to the edge of the park, staying really far behind. I knew Id be noticed if I went any farther. I guess it was just as well that I didnt know where she lived because I wouldnt be able to keep myself from walking by her house 100 times a day. I wandered around the neighborhood for a really long time, watching the snow fall and remembering her face. Im not always the happiest person, but that day I really felt great. When I got kicked out of my moms, I pretty much hit an all-time low. I spent a few nights walking around the city and, when I couldnt take it anymore, I ended up at my cousin Johns house. I needed to sleep and eat. On the street, you cant stay anywhere for too long or the cops will come and ask you to leave. If you are a minor like me, they could take you home. Or worse, they might decide to get social services involved. I didn't want to end up in some fucking youth shelter. John said I could stay on his couch for a few nights, but I ended up staying there for a long time. He was a few years older than me, almost done with college. We grew up hanging out together. I think he was glad to have the company. I was glad to have somewhere to be. He never asked me for money,

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but I got a job and paid half of his rent anyway. Once I was working, he cleaned out the small second bedroom he had been using as an office so I had a little space of my own. One day, I came home and found a lot of my old stuff in my room. My computer, my MP3 player and clothes from my mothers house were all there in boxes. John had convinced my mother to let me have my things and went to get them for me. He always let me use his computer, but it was a relief to have my games and pictures back. It was even better to have my clothes. I had been wearing the same few t-shirts and the same two pairs of jeans that were in my backpack the day they kicked me out. I was starting to look really ragged. Meeting someone online is not something I ever imagined I would do. Christina lightened my heart in a way no one ever had. Im not sure anyone else had actually tried. She listened to me. She never judged. She was so sweet. It broke my heart that she was treated so badly at home. I wanted to rescue her. Seeing her in the park cemented that. Her mother was a foreboding woman, although she carried herself in such a way that she hid it well. It was her energy toward Christina that unnerved me, not any particular thing she said. My mother was the same way so I understood exactly what she was up against. It gave me a stomachache to think she was going through anything similar to what I had to live with. I think maybe I have never slept so well as I did that night we first met. My dreams were full of her face, her gentle touch, her extended hand. It was more than a fleeting dream, it lasted throughout the night. I went over it in my mind again and again, reliving every detail for days afterward. I felt there was absolutely no way that we could not be together very soon. I started devising plans to see her again. She was not online for a few days, which I hated. It wasnt that uncommon for her to go missing for awhile. I always worried when I didn't talk to her. All I knew is that when we spoke again, we were going to have to find a way to see each other soon. I thought perhaps I could follow her and her mother to the grocery store, or the mall. I was sure she would take her eyes off her at least for a few minutes here or there. All I really needed was to see her. I would love to give her a big hug and scoop her up in my arms and hold on tight. Kiss her. Tell her I love her. At the very least, however, I just needed to see her. I could never understand why she was so afraid to give me details about where she lived. I could understand that her mother didnt let her have guys over. Its not like telling me what neighborhood she lived in was going to hurt anything. I promised her that I would never show up unannounced, but she still wouldnt tell

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me. I tried to leave it alone and pretend that I didnt care, but I did. It hurt that she didnt trust me. I knew how much trouble Id cause if I showed up at her house. How could I explain to her that Id never let anything bad happen to her? Any other girl being so secretive would have been annoying. She was so special that I let it go. Plus, I knew that she was just really scared. Im not one to let go of the control in any given situation, but she had me by the balls and the heart. She didnt know it yet, but there was going to be no getting rid of me. Even though we had only met for five minutes, she was the biggest influence on my life at that time. Shit, she was way before we met. Probably the second time I talked to her, I realized I loved her. I didnt even know it was possible to have feelings for someone that fast. Especially sight unseen, but I did. If I hadnt met her, Im not sure Id still be around. I tried to explain to her how much she helped me, but she never seemed to get it. I was really, really depressed living with my mother. Even so, after being abandoned by her for the last time, I pretty much shut down. The only points of light in those first few weeks were talking to Christina. If I didnt have that to look forward to, I wouldnt have had anything. Its hard to put all of your faith into someone youve never met, but I did. Even if I had to wait until she was 18, she would be my girl. For her, I had all the patience in the world. True love. I couldnt believe I was even thinking like that. I can say that Im not sure I have ever felt loved like that by anyone before her. I knew my mother loved me, but I also knew she loved herself more. My father never lived with us. He and my mother werent married. They were only 19 when I was born. When I was really little, he was around a lot but eventually he met someone else and left. He has two other kids now, and I dont fit into his life at all. My two little sisters, 10-year-old twins, take up most of his time. When they were babies, I was really jealous, but now Im pretty much indifferent. When the shit hit the fan, I never even thought of going to stay with him. My stepmother thinks Im a bad person. She feels uncomfortable alone around me and has since her own kids were born. She said I looked at one of the babies menacingly. I was like 6 years old. If anything I was just sad because I felt left out. I was a little kid. I never would have hurt anyone. I remember really liking the babies in their matching outfits. I think she just likes to keep me away from her perfect family. Im a mistake of my dads that she is willing to overlook if Im not around. Everyone in my whole life has been willing to overlook me. Ive only had a few really close friends in my life. None of them have really stuck around because Ive pushed them away or they ditched me. When I met Christina, I was totally isolated. I hadnt gone to school in months and I had

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almost stopped leaving my house altogether except to go to work. Sometimes I didnt shower for days. No one important was gonna see me anyway. I think the only reason I even talked to her in the first place was because of my complete loneliness and boredom. I had been playing computer games and video games so much that they werent even fun anymore. I was all alone, and then she talked to me. It was so hard to believe that she just popped up out of nowhere. I really liked her, but I never really expected her to message me a second time. Somehow, she didnt get sick of me. Somehow ,I didnt come off weird or mean like I tend to. I was myself with her, and she listened to me. She cared how I felt. She joked around with me. I knew that if we had met in person and not online we probably would not be as close, but I didnt let it stop me from loving her. I think the main reason I lose friends is because I have a lot of anxiety. It makes me react badly to things. I dont mean to blow up but sometimes I do. My mother always told me I had anger issues. In school, my teachers said the same thing. I often had big fights with both kids and teachers. Eventually, I had to go to a special school for students with "behavior problems." Even there, I had a bad reputation. Most people seemed to be scared to be near me. I never had tons of friends. Usually I hung out with one or two people. Sometimes I wouldn't talk to anyone for months. My friends varied a lot over the years, but there was never a girl. My most recent failed friend was Dave. We ended up sneaking out and going to a party one weekend. We got a little drunk, and his mother heard him coming in. We got busted big time, and he decided to respect his parents wishes to have nothing to do with me after that. That dude hung out with me every day for at least a year, and then he just listened to what his mommy said about me. Its not like I forced him to come out or to drink. Shit, we had a good time. But one mistake, and he threw in the towel. I wouldnt have admitted it to anyone, but it hurt. Pretty much every friendship I have ever had has been about the same. Someone gives me a chance, something happens, and they ditch me. No one ever really picks me, either. I usually end up being someones friend almost accidentally. Like Mark in fifth grade who got paired up with me on a project. He was actually mad to have to be my partner. After a few days working together, he said he realized Im not that bad. Not that bad! I dont know why people get such a bad vibe from me! I mean yeah, I fight, and yeah, I get angry, but I am never the one who starts it. No one ever notices that, though. So Im always the bad one. In reality, Im a nice guy. I guess somewhere along the way I sort of forgot

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who I was and adopted the persona of the guy everyone expected me to be. I mean I was the same on the inside, but the world saw a totally different face. Sometimes Id forget about the real me almost completely, but deep down I never changed. All the trouble I got into happened because I was lost. There was always a small part of me that wondered what the fuck I was doing, but it didnt stop me. Right after my father and mother broke up for good, my mom and I moved out of my grandmothers house and went to live with her big sister. If I ever had a real mother figure, it was my aunt Ang. She had her MBA from Canisius College and owned a competitive little coffee shop down in the happening, Elmwood Shopping District. It was right next to the co-op, always full of hippies and artists. She was a really cool lady. She was the exact opposite of my mom. She had her shit together, and she always took care of me. My mother had tons of boyfriends and wasnt home that much, especially at night. My aunt helped me with homework and played with me. She was the one who cooked dinner and made sure I went to bed on time and everything. She even came on my school field trip to the Buffalo Zoo one year. I remember one parent-teacher conference night my mom and my aunt both came to school with me. Mrs. Zernheld, my fourth-grade teacher, was confused because she always thought I lived only with my aunt. Even I could tell she was caught off guard. The only real love I felt in my life at that point came from her. She meant the world to me. However, my mother was still technically in charge of me. If ever I was punished, it was by my mother. Never my aunt. My mom was big on punishment, especially if my aunt wasnt home. She was always very hard on me. I kinda felt like she was mad at the bond I had with her sister, but couldnt bring herself to be nice enough to me for something similar to grow between us. I have always been very fearful of my mother. She has never had my best interest at heart. She would hurt me any chance she got. She never put me before herself. She would beat me over the slightest thing, like having the television too loud or not liking the clothes I was wearing. She would humiliate me any way she could. She was big on walking in on me after a shower and teasing me about my private parts, or even sometimes pinching me there just to be domineering. I wouldnt say that she molested me, but my body was never my own. I can think of countless times when she pulled down my pants in front of one of her friends to spank me. I know it was just meant to humiliate me because she never spanked me over her knee with my bare bottom out, unless one of her friends was watching. She never spanked me hard in front of them, she just wanted me to feel small. If I was too gassy, shed force an enema on me. Its almost funny, but

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sometimes Im still afraid to fart. As Aunt Angs business grew more successful, she began to get offers from people to buy it. I was a little young to understand what was going on. When I was about 10 or 11, she sold her shop to a famous coffee corporation. I think it made her really sad to let it go, but she made a killing on the deal. For a few months, she didnt work very much and went on at least three vacations. She even took my mother and me to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. It was great, but she wasnt home as often as I was used to. Soon, I started noticing other changes as well. She and my mother were having hushed conversations all of a sudden. Aunt Ang started cleaning out closets and drawers. She gave away lots of old clothes and shoes. She took all of her dishes out of the cabinets and piled them on the dining room table. When she started wrapping them in newspaper, my curiosity got the better of me. I sat down at the table to watch her. When I asked her what she was doing, she gave me a quizzical look. Michael, Im packing, she said. What kind of trip are you going on, I asked? Trip? Honey, hasnt your mother talked to you about what's going on? No, I answered, fearful. Surely I wasn't going to like what she was about to say. She put down the glass she was wrapping and gestured for me to follow her. We walked into her bedroom and my heart hurt a little already. This was where we always talked about bad stuff. She had a little television area in her room with a couch and chair. She always let me go in there and hang out if she or my mother were watching something I didnt want to see. It was also the place where we had our talks. Every once in awhile, we would sit and talk about something that had happened or was going to happen. This was where she told me my grandmother had died. It was also the place she would sit me down to talk about school or my attitude. Things no one else ever tried to get through to me about. Things I wouldnt talk to anyone else about. We sat down, and she looked really sad. I thought for a second that maybe someone else had died or something. She said again, Didnt your mother have a talk with you about me? I denied that my mom had even mentioned her to me in the past few days. She put her arm around me and said that she thought it was strange that I hadnt talked to her about it yet. She hadnt realized I didnt know what was going on. My mother was supposed to explain it to me weeks ago. She was cursing herself

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up and down. It freaked me out. Explain what, Aunt Ang? I asked, thoroughly confused after five minutes of this. What are you going tell me? Honey, Im so sorry. You are going to feel like Im springing this on you, but I thought that you had known for awhile now. She paused to contemplate a few more seconds, and all I could hear was my heart beating. Finally, she spit the words out, Im moving, she said. Im leaving the day after tomorrow. All I really heard was leaving. That was the first time I ever had my heart broken. That one word. When I think back to that moment I can still hear her say it. How could she leave me? Where are you going? I asked, with my voice more shaky than I would have liked. I couldnt hide my shock or my hurt; She could always see right through me. She took my face in her hands. Im not going far Michael, I just wont be here every day anymore. I bought a bed-and-breakfast in Ellicottville. Remember when we went camping out near Zoar Valley a few years ago? Its right around there. Thats like an hour away! I said. I was really stunned now. An hour away? When am I gonna see you? It seems like a lot, but its really not, honey. I promise Ill still see you at least once a month, hopefully more, she said. I could tell she felt terrible. Nothing between us will change, she said. That is another promise. I will always be here for you. You can call me no matter what. I think she said some other stuff but I stopped listening and focused on not breaking down in front of her. Its not that she hadnt seen me cr y before. I really didnt want her to know how crushed I was because I knew it would hurt her. I knew she hurt enough for me already. Plus it wasnt her job to take care of me. My aunt tightened her grip around my shoulder and sort of pulled me over next to her and held me close. I rested my head on her with my eyes squeezed shut as tight as I could. I focused on my breathing to hold everything inside. I had to remind myself that my aunt never really knew how bad it was when she wasnt home. I dont think she would have left if she knew. We had been sitting there maybe five minutes when I heard my mothers car pull up and I could hear that she had her boyfriend with her. He laughed about something and the sound of him out there almost gave me chills. I couldnt hold it in anymore. The thought of being alone here with them, all the time, sent me over the edge. I cried really hard for a few seconds and then got myself under control, mostly because I was afraid my mothers boyfriend, Fred, would hear

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me. I didnt want him to tease me if my eyes were puffy, or worse yet to come in and catch me. Aunt Ang squeezed me so hard I thought Id suffocate, but I squeezed her back just as hard. Once my tears were dry, she kissed me on the forehead and handed me the remote. She told me to stay in her room until she came back or called me. She turned on the television, turned up the volume a little too loud and left the room. She shut the door behind her. That was the one and only time I ever heard my aunt get angry, much less yell at anyone. I turned the TV down low and listened to her tear my mother a new one for not telling me. I was shocked, but I had to smile, too, a little. No one had ever talked to my mother like that in front of me. I hoped she felt like shit. I heard her start to cry, and I still didnt feel bad. They were screaming at each other, and it scared me a little to hear my aunt so emotional. I hated when she cried. I didnt want her to feel bad because of me. Then again, at the same time it felt good to have her defend me. After a lot of yelling, my mom stormed out, followed closely by Fred. I heard them screech away. I hoped they never came back. I turned up the TV and tried to look like I didnt know what was going on when I heard my aunt come out of the bathroom a few minutes later. I could tell that she had been crying, even though she washed her face. She told me to go to bed, gave me a little hug and shut her door. I could hear her crying for a long time. I was crying, too. I dont think I had ever been so sad. I helped her carry her boxes to the car. I sat on the porch and watched her drive away. When she left, school was almost over for the year. She told me I could come and spend time with her in the summer. My life with my mother and Fred was not so great. Actually, it was probably worse than I imagined it would be. He moved in right away. Almost immediately, the house got really messy and dirty. No one really cooked anymore, and they were always either fighting with each other or yelling at me. I couldnt sleep at night because I was so stressed out. By the time school let out, I was ready to go see my aunt but it had been awhile since I heard from her. Her bed-and-breakfast was doing a lot of business. I figured she was just too busy for me and didnt call her. I missed her terribly, though. I kinda felt like she had forgotten me. My mom and Fred often left me alone overnight or longer. I didnt like being in the house by myself, but at least they were gone. They decided to go to Venice Beach one night while they were drunk. We were eating dinner in the living room, and they were drinking beer all afternoon and evening. They saw a movie about the beach and just up and decided to go.

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They threw some clothes in a bag, gave me $33 (the total of all they had in their pockets) and left with their dinner plates still on the couch. I cleaned up the house a little and watched television. It was a Friday. I figured theyd be home by Monday or Tuesday. I doubted theyd actually make it to where they planned to go. By Thursday, I was wondering where the hell they were. By the following Sunday, I was kinda getting freaked out because I was low on food and bored as hell. I had spent most of the money they gave me, and there wasnt much left in the house. They had been gone 16 days when my aunt showed up to surprise us with a visit. She knocked on the door, and I thought it was finally my mother. I opened it and was shocked to see her! When she asked where my mother was, I didnt lie. She was incensed and told me to get my things together. She helped me pack up all my clothes and my computer and stuff and we put it all in her car. She wrote my mother a note telling her where I was and to call her when she got home. It was two more weeks before she called. After three or four days in Ellicottville, my aunt told me that if I wanted to stay with her from now on I could. She was furious that they were not home yet. She tried getting in touch with them but couldn't. They were gone almost a month. When my mom called my aunt to check in, she couldnt understand why Ang was so mad. She told her I was mature for my age and that I was fine. I was just about to turn 12. She didnt care that I had almost run out of food. I was lonely and starting to get scared that they werent coming back. But why would she care? She didnt care that they both had lost their jobs. She didnt care about anything but that asshole boyfriend. It sucked being alone for all that time, but it had the best possible outcome! I was living with Ang, and life was never better. She was only gone for a little while, but I was lost without her. She told me right away that she was seeing someone and that Id meet him soon. The idea of her having a boyfriend scared me because I had only been exposed to my mothers boyfriends. They were all total jerks. Every single one of them scared the hell out of me. They would fight constantly with my mom and yell at me. Some of them would even push me around. She allowed Fred to hit me and, from time to time, he did. Angs boyfriend was different, though. A lot different in fact. His name was Frank. She invited him over for dinner when I had been there about a week. I was totally nervous about meeting him. When I did, I immediately realized he was not at all like my moms boyfriends. Of course it was obvious that my aunt had more self-respect than my mother and would never put up with that. He said he had heard all about me and was acting all interested. We had a good

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dinner. It was the first of many good times with the three of us. That summer started out as the scariest time of my life, but ended up being one of the most wonderfully memorable. Even though my aunt had to run the B&B, she and Frank spent a lot of time with me. It was named Monet and had rooms with themes from various works of art. People loved that place, especially the food. My aunt had hired a chef, but it was she who invented all the recipes served in the restaurant there. We went camping almost every weekend that summer. Frank taught me to fish. My aunt taught me how to take care of the big vegetable garden she had. We worked in it together every day. I still had bad thoughts and feelings inside sometimes, and I was still pretty anxious, but that was the only time in my life that I ever really felt safe. My mother almost never called me. When she showed up at the door on my birthday, I was unpleasantly surprised. I was afraid she was going to try to take me home with her. My aunt took one look at my face and quietly reassured me that she had invited my mother to dinner and that everything was okay. That was the only time she ever visited me there. It was a kind of sad and tense visit. It was like she saw my aunt was doing a better job with me, and she realized shed failed. After awhile, she all but stopped contact with me. I started school in the fall and began kinda settling into my life. School wasnt that bad. I still didnt have tons of friends, but I wasnt really picked on that badly, either. I was happy at home so school was just, I dont know, easier somehow. I got especially close to Frank around that same time. We bonded watching the Buffalo Sabres during one of the most exciting seasons they ever played. On game nights, we all sat in the living room for dinner and yelled at the television in unison. It was a lot of fun. I had never been a hockey fan until Frank literally forced me to sit through a game. That night as I watched Rob Ray drop his helmet and gloves to skate toward Tai Domi, of the Toronto Maple Leafs, my interest piqued. When I further saw #32 slam him into the boards and pound his massive fist into the guys face, I was hooked. In one game, I was a hockey fan; no, I was a Sabres fan. It took me a few weeks to understand exactly what was going on. Frank was really good at explaining things to me in a way that I could always understand. The Sabres went all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals that year. In the wee hours of the morning that June, we lost the cup to the Dallas Stars in a controversial call that no one in Buffalo could accept. An illegally scored goal in triple overtime, during game six of the finals, dashed the dreams of an entire

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city. No Goal we called it in Buffalo. It was a huge loss for me. A black pallor hung over my heart and the city for weeks that year. I cried openly in front of the television when it happened. On the day before Christmas that year, my aunt and Frank got married in a small ceremony at Monet. It was really fun, and I was so happy for them. Their reception was held the next day at the B&B. There were tons of people. It was a huge Christmas/wedding party. It was good to see my aunt so happy. My mother and Fred were there. I sat with them throughout the meal part of the party, and they didnt talk much to me or anyone else. My mom looked happy for her sister. Fred almost looked like he was enjoying himself. It was like they didnt know how to talk if they werent arguing. They didnt have a Christmas present for me, but I barely noticed. I had everything I needed. A few weeks after the wedding, my aunt started having fainting spells. It was scary. One Saturday morning she was making me breakfast. In the middle of a sentence, she just closed her eyes and dropped to the floor. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs for Frank, who was still asleep. We wanted her to go to the hospital but she refused, saying she was fine and just needed to eat something. I didnt think much of it until it happened again a few weeks later. Soon it began to be a regular occurrence. Not only was she fainting, but she looked tired to me. I thought she was working too hard, mimicking Franks sentiments. She promised to hire more help and take more time for herself, but she never really did. One afternoon in late spring she fainted in the car and ended up in the hospital. She ran off the road into a ditch. The crash didnt seem to hurt her much, but her doctor had her go through a bunch of tests. She was there overnight. It was tense around the house for me and Frank. I mean, we always got along. After a year living there, I was starting to think of him as my father. It was just that we both loved her so much that it was a scary day. It was even worse when he finally was able to bring her home. I knew something really bad was wrong, but no one said anything to me right away. It took them a few days to sit down with me and when they did I understood why. When I was a baby, my aunt had breast cancer. I dont remember anyone ever talking about it, but she said she had. I was shocked. The news that followed was worse. She said the doctor found that her cancer had recurred. She was having fainting spells because she was so sick. She kept saying sick instead of cancer, but it didnt soften the blow. I was terrified but she assured me that she had fought the disease once and would do it again. Frank put one arm around each of us, and we promised each other we would get through it together, as a

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family. I knew that if anyone could beat this and get well again, it was Aunt Ang. We were all scared but also extremely hopeful. I prayed for her every night and took care of her right alongside Frank while she was on chemotherapy. The treatment started off relatively easy for her. I let my guard down a lot in the beginning because it seemed like a piece of cake. By the time my birthday rolled around again, she had been in treatment almost two months. It was starting to take its toll a little, but she was still getting around just fine. I tried to insist that we stay home for my birthday, but she wouldnt hear of it. We drove an hour or two to Niagara Falls. We took a ride on the Maid of the Mist, a boat that rides beneath the falls. It was an amazing experience. The roar of the towering walls of water falling around you takes your breath away. For a minute or two, you can understand the power of the world, and of nature. It makes you feel incredibly small by comparison. They give you a poncho but I didnt use the hood on mine. I didnt want to wear it at all, but Ang made me. I let the water wash over my head. It was exhilarating but bordering on terrifying. My breath came in gasps, and I was truly in awe. I looked at Frank holding onto Ang, and I knew theyd had a spiritual moment too. It wasnt my birthday that made them happy, it was this place, but it made me feel special anyway. Late in the fall, everyone at the B&B was passing around a really bad flu. With only a few chemo treatments left, her immune system was really weak. Everyone told her to stay away. She did, with one exception. Ang loved Halloween. She wanted to see the place decorated. She didnt even go to the party. She stopped by early in the afternoon to see everyone hanging spider webs and purple strings of lights. She was really pleased with the job they did. She even took some snapshots to show me when I got home from school. Frank was a little miffed at her for going there while half the staff was either getting over the virus or still out sick. She told him not to worry, smiling at us the whole time. A few days later, though, it was apparent that her Halloween trip had been a bad idea after all. She started coughing really hard during the night. I heard her get up and go into the bathroom. I remember her vomiting and not being all too surprised, because the cancer treatments had her throwing up all the time. It was the coughing that got me wondering if she was ok. I sat up in my bed as I heard Frank padding down the hall to check on her. I drew my knees to my chest and began to worry because I realized she didnt have chemo for a few more days and she should not be throwing up tonight. I could hear them clearly through my open bedroom door. Frank was scared, too, I could hear it in his voice. Sick as she was, Aunt Ang was soothing him as much as he was her. He wanted to take her to the emergency room. She wanted to go back to bed. He insisted, and she

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tried to refuse. I got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom door to back Frank up. We all got dressed and drove into the city. Roswell Park Cancer Institute was where my aunt went for all her treatments and doctors appointments. The hour-long trip in the car was pretty horrible. We stopped a few times for her to throw up. She was sweaty and warm to the touch. She was really sick. When we finally got to Roswell, they took one look at her, put her in an ambulance and sent her straight to the emergency room at nearby Erie County Medical Center (ECMC). My uncle and I couldnt both ride in the rig. Since we needed our car, I rode with her to the second hospital. They made me sit in the front, but I could see everything that went on. She talked to me the whole time. She kept telling me that she loved me. That showed me she was scared. I think this was the first time she realized how sick she was. Until that night, I had never really given any serious consideration to losing her, and I think she had been similarly optimistic. A few times, I glanced through the rear window of the ambulance and saw Frank tailing us at top speed. The hospitals were maybe 10 minutes apart, but that ride seemed to take ages. I hoped my aunt couldnt see out the window as Frank wiped away a few tears as he sped down the road. When we finally came to a halt outside ECMC, I jumped out of my seat as fast as I could. I was behind the ambulance before the driver. Frank parked the car and was already running up the short driveway into the emergency room. Dawn was breaking, and it was a typical cold November morning in Buffalo. It was surreal watching them roll her through the double doors of the ER. Sitting in the waiting room was worse. I had kept her company during countless chemotherapy sessions, but this was very different. After hours of waiting literally a doctor came out and pulled my uncle aside. I could see them speaking, but I couldnt tell what was being said. Frank was nodding a lot and looking even more worried now than he had a few minutes earlier. He said we could finally see her now. They had admitted her, and she was in a room in the Intensive Care Unit on the 12th floor. As we rode up the elevator, Frank explained that we would have to wear masks and gowns for the time being because we couldnt risk exposing her to any other germs. She was very sick, but stable at the moment. Stable. Exposed. Germs. Sick. As those words swirled in my head, I struggled to make sense of it all. Once we were off of the elevator, we were greeted by a nurse who spoke quietly, explaining the procedures of the ward. I let Frank listen to those details. I was too caught up in the buzzing and beeping of all the

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machines in the rooms around me. Glimpses of the patients were all pretty gruesome. People laying there, half dead, with tubes everywhere. I really hoped Ang wouldnt look like that when I saw her. The nurse showed us where to scrub ourselves down before we could go into the room. We washed our faces and then our arms, all the way to the elbows, with antibacterial soap. They gave us gowns, masks, booties to go over our shoes, and latex gloves. I wasnt sure my aunt would even recognize us. And I hoped all of this wouldnt scare her. She was in a private room. She had pneumonia. She was lying in the semi darkness with the curtains drawn and her eyes closed. The nurse left, and I looked at Frank to see what to do next. He walked over and looked down at her. I stood on the other side of the bed and took in the whole scene. She had a few intravenous needles pumping in antibiotics. She was hooked to an oxygen tank as well, although she was breathing on her own. The thing that got to me the most was the small bag of urine attached to the side of the bed. I knew that sort of thing would embarrass my aunt, and it killed me to see it. Her eyes fluttered open as we stood there watching her, and she smiled up at us. It was a huge relief to have her alert and talking. She held our hands and laughed at our funny outfits. Her fever had barely gone down from the night before. She was almost too weak to lift her head, and every so often she had to close her eyes to rest before she could continue talking to us. The hour and a half visiting window was almost over and although we hated to leave her there alone, we had to. We couldnt come back until later that evening. Frank and I went out and got some food and drove around. We were both quiet and contemplative. Ang was in ICU for about three days with her symptoms worsening every day. I dont think I quite understood it yet, but this was the beginning of the end for her. They stopped making us abide by the visiting-hour rules. Ang had a stream of visitors all day. My mother came every day and sat with us. She said very little, but sometimes I noticed her wiping away tears. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors; everyone who loved my aunt came to see her those last few days. I never left the room. Not once in six days except to use the bathroom. I rarely ate anything, and nothing that wasnt smuggled in for me by Frank. I didnt allow myself to believe she could die. If I could just stay there with her and watch her, that would get her through it. I did not allow myself to believe that she would ever leave me again. She had promised that she wouldnt leave! I believed her, and I kept hoping. There was not a trace of anger in me. I never blamed her for being sick. I just knew what life was like without her, and I didnt want any part of it.

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We were alone in her room. It was dark outside, early evening. Maybe Frank was on the phone or getting something to eat, Im not sure, but he wasnt there. I walked up to the bed and couldnt tell if she was awake or asleep. I took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back and looked at me. She said my name softly and her eyes filled with tears. It was the first time we had alone, with no one else in the room. Her tears shook me to the core. I was shaking inside. I was glad to have ahold of her hand to steady myself. Dont, was all I managed to say. My voice seemed frozen in my throat. I wanted to say, "Please dont cry. Please dont give up. Please dont leave us," but all I could muster was that one word. Tears were streaming down her face now, and I was trying to choke back huge sobs. I couldnt take my eyes off hers. I think the reason I couldnt say, Please dont leave, was that I knew she didnt want to; that she didnt have a choice. I didnt want her to feel guilty. I could see her fear. Her longing for life was clear. I think she knew she had very little time left. I knew it, too, and I wanted to die right along with her. She patted the bed. Never releasing her hand, I sat as close to her as I could. Amazingly, she was able to pull herself up. She wrapped her arms around me. I couldn't help but notice the IV tubes snaking down them. The needles in her flesh looked painful. I held on to her like Ive never held on to anything or anyone in my life. She was my only anchor in the world, yet she was floating away. I didnt know how hard I was crying until I felt her shaking, wracked with sobs that were the intensity of my own. The exchange took all of three minutes, but it is one of the most meaningful memories I have of anything in my life. Somehow, she pulled herself together. Without letting go, she whispered that she remembered her promise never to leave me and told me that if the worst happened, she would always be with me in spirit. Not good enough! My mind howled, but I said nothing. She promised shed be there to hold my hand for the rest of my life. She said if I ever needed her I should just talk, because she would always be there to listen. I drew back and looked in her eyes. I told her I knew she would never leave me. I knew that she loved me. I knew that she was a fighter. I told her I would not be the same without her, that she had saved me. I knew I might not have the chance to talk to her like this again, so I didnt hold anything back. I'm proud of myself for that. I'm not always the best communicator. I felt that I owed her. I thanked her for giving me a mother and being my only hope. I cried a little more, but I felt like I was out of tears. She touched my face. At that moment, my heart hurt so much that I hoped I would die, too. She asked me to take off her necklace. I put it in her hand, and she admired it a little. She told me it was my

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grandfathers and that he gave it to her on his death bed. She put it in my hand, her eyes filled with pain. Ill never forget that moment as long as I live. She leaned back and closed her eyes, exhausted from our emotional exchange. I was surprised to suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. It was Frank. I dont know how long hed been standing there, but I didnt care that hed witnessed our goodbye. He sat behind me with one arm around me and the other around her. I leaned back on him and let him comfort me a little. I guess, really, we comforted each other. I fell asleep at some point and woke up to hear Ang telling Frank how much she loved him. He was holding onto me pretty tightly, and I pretended to still be asleep. They deserved their moment, too. There was no way I was leaving her bedside, not even for a moment. I think I accidentally let out a little moan when he told her it was okay for her to go. She made him promise to take care of me. I loved her for thinking of me in the last moments of her life, lying there talking to her husband. I was so scared. When they finished talking, I was glad to have those strong, fatherly arms around me. Otherwise, I think I might have fallen completely apart. Aunt Ang drifted in and out of consciousness that night. We hung on her every word. I tried to maintain hope, but it got harder and harder to believe she might make it through this. After awhile, she stopped trying to communicate and just slept. After a few more hours, her breath became more and more shallow. It was apparent she was dying. Nurses and doctors were in and out all night, but they had already done all they could do. Her immune system just couldn't fight it any longer. I couldnt believe she had fought cancer and was now dying of the flu. She was almost done with her chemotherapy. I had believed the worst was over. That fucking Halloween party! We sat there together, the three of us, until there were only two of us left. When she stopped breathing, the doctors unhooked the monitors. There was no attempt at resuscitation. No paddles, no doctors and nurses yelling like you see on television. They just shut off the machines and told us we could have as much time with her as we needed. I knew I couldnt stomach being there, now that she was gone. Her face already looked like it was made of wax. Even her thick, brown, Sicilian hair looked dead. I didnt want to remember her like that. I touched her necklace. I couldn't remember putting it on. I told her I knew she was still here. In that moment, I could feel her presence in the room. My heart was broken, but I also felt an overwhelming sense of love. I hoped she was free of pain. I was anything but.

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For the second time in a week, I noticed the dawn breaking. I couldnt help but think that this would be a day like no other. The last time I saw the sunrise, I didnt know what I was in for. As the sky lightened that morning, I tried to be hopeful. But I was terrified. This would be the first day without my rock, my protector, my only protector. I was sweaty and a little disoriented when I walked into the bathroom to vomit. The antiseptic smell was burning my eyes and nose. I needed to get out of that room. I looked at Frank and could see that he felt the same way. At that moment, my mother burst in the door. She could tell immediately that she was too late. She dropped to her knees and sobbed like a child. Neither of us moved to comfort her. The theatrical scene was too much to take. I guess the nurses must have called her because neither Frank or I had. I was shocked to see her. Frank and I hadnt moved from the bedside in hours. We all stood there as my mother said her posthumous goodbye. We wandered into the street together. Frank and I followed her to her house. I was surprised to see that she had moved. She had never mentioned it to me. They sat drinking coffee and discussing funeral arrangements. I pulled my favorite soft chair up to a big bay window in the living room and watched the cars go by. It wasnt a busy street, so really I was watching the grey wintry sky swirl above me. I mostly tuned out the conversation in the kitchen, though I did hear enough to realize that this was the most civil I had ever seen my mother. Im sure we would all agree it was the worst day any of us had ever had. I didnt feel at all like this when my grandmother died. Today, I feel broken. The wake and funeral were a blur. I do remember pulling up to Forrest Lawn Cemetery in the back of the long, black limousine. I remember walking the winding path that led to the gravesite. It was freezing that day. Thankfully, I dont remember the finer details. I couldnt take my eyes off the mahogany coffin, draped inside with purple silk. Thats what sticks out most in my memories of that day. Four years later, my heart still feels the depth of the pain I felt that day. I went back to school a few days after the funeral. For a few weeks, we just went on the best way we could, trying to keep everything the same. My mother came up for Thanksgiving. After dinner, she told Frank that I would be coming home with her that night. This was not welcome news. I sat there in silence and waited to see what Frank would say. He informed my mother that as far as he was concerned, I was home and that he was sure I would agree. Yeah, Mom, I want to stay here, I said rather meekly when Frank looked at me for my opinion. She looked a little hurt.

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Mike is my son. I realized that my sister could do a better job with him, and I let her have that chance. It killed me to let him go, but I knew he was in better hands. She paused, looking at me and then at Frank. Frank, you are a good man and I know you want to do the right thing here. Keeping up with the responsibilities of your marriage, even after my sister has passed, is an honorable thing. Thank you very much for your help, but Michael is coming home. I cant argue with that, he said. Frank convinced my mother to let me stay a few more weeks, until the holidays were over, so the transition at school would be easier. And because he wanted a little more time to say goodbye. She agreed to let me stay but wanted me to call her every day. I hadnt realized it until that moment, but my mother felt like she had given me up rather than abandoned me. Thats why she wasnt around; she thought I was better off without her. The sad part is, she was probably right. I was pretty nervous at the prospect of having to live with her again. I had never heard her speak up for me, or fight for me. It got me wondering if she had changed a little bit. After my mother left, Frank apologized to me. He asked me if he should fight her. He said that if I wanted, he would get a lawyer and go to court. I told him that I would try living with my mother. I couldnt have him going through all that trouble just for me. He made me promise to keep in touch with him, and to let him know if things were getting bad again. He knew about how my mom treated me, and he was afraid to let me go. On New Years Eve, I moved back in with my mother. We sat in her living room and watched the Buffalo Sabres Tux and Pucks game, yelling at the television. I didn't even know she liked hockey. She ordered pizza and chicken wings from Buffalos finest, LaNova Pizzeria. It was weird. She planned the night to be special, and it was. It was just the two of us. I didnt ask her where Fred had gone. I assumed they had broken up ages ago because he never came to the hospital with my mother, and she was there every day.

For the first few weeks back with her, things were completely normal and nice. I was still skeptical, but she seemed to be trying to do the right thing. Maybe she was still grieving. Maybe she really was trying. Im not sure. She went to work every day. She rarely yelled at me and, most importantly, she didnt lay a hand on me. I couldnt figure out what the change was. I was almost ready to believe that she had meant what she said on Thanksgiving.

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One night in February, we were eating spaghetti at the kitchen table when there was an unexpected knock on the door. She answered it, and I heard, Happy Valentines Day, baby! Fred was slurring his words, and I was immediately disgusted. I thought for sure she would make him leave. Especially since it was three days after Valentines Day. He had a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates, and they both looked cheap. She didnt slam the door in his face, and she didnt make him leave! She took the wine and candy and offered him some food. I put my dish in the sink and left the room. I heard him apologize and tell her he missed her. It made me nervous. It took exactly three days for her to revert to her old ways. I hadnt realized what a big role alcohol played in her moods until they drank that wine. Actually, if it had been just the one bottle of wine we might have been okay. I guess Id always known in the back of mind that she picked her boyfriends over me, but this made it perfectly clear. I was still raw from my aunt dying, and this hurt me to the core of my being. That place everyone has, deep down, that is guarded and protected, that secret little place where you keep your dearest hope she she shattered mine. I felt so stupid for believing her. Seeing my mom drinking again and letting Fred back into our lives shut me down completely. Before long, she was drinking every day. As time went on, she got meaner and meaner. I was walking around like a ticking time bomb. For awhile, everything got under my skin. After that, I didnt show any emotions other than anger and some occasional violent episodes. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep at night, but that didnt count. Id all but block it out during the daytime. Nights were so hard for me. Sometimes I wouldnt sleep for more than an hour or two a night. I did nothing in school. I only went to escape my house. The two years I had spent in Ellicottville, working on my study skills and attitude, were blocked from my memory. I was back in the school for problem students. I was so far gone that even among the student body of rejects, I stood out. I couldn't believe that no one could tell how much I hurt. The teachers wrote me off. I heard one of them whispering that I would end up in jail. Everyone joked about my future as a serial killer. There were two counselors at school that tried to talk to me all the time. I shot them down. One was older. She had a daughter my age. She tried to mother me. She tried to help me. She sat with me at lunch when no one else would come near me. She went on a field trip so that I could have my own personal chaperone. They wouldn't take me unless I got someone to agree to be responsible for me. There was no way I was going to ask for favors from teachers who hated me. She

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didn't make me ask; she offered. I wasnt ready. I said rude things to her. I looked at the picture on her desk and told her that I thought her daughter was hot. When that didn't phase her, I told her I had a woody. She sent me out of her office and back to class. She tried a few more times to talk to me, but I did the same kinds of things. The other counselor was younger. She was maybe six years older than the seniors. Most of the kids really liked her. She was a "cool teacher." Lots of kids ate lunch in her office. Everyone loved her. She called me in one day to talk about my math scores. There were pictures of her new baby on the desk. She had just returned from maternity leave. She was nice. We talked about me doing my homework more often or something like that. She said she could see I was having a rough year. She had my report cards from the previous few years. She asked if my grades dropping had anything to do with the change in my school setting. I told her I had been living with my aunt, but she died so now I was back with my mother. I didn't mean to share it with her; it just slipped out. She asked more questions, and I answered them. My guard was slipping. She offered to be my ally. She told me she would drag me out of the hole I was in if I agreed to work with her. Everyone knew my story. Well, not completely, but they had enough pieces to figure out how bad things were. I hated their pity. I hated people caring about me. I didn't feel worthy. I couldnt accept sympathy from anyone. Everything seemed false to me. After losing my aunt, I was terrified to trust anyone again. Instead of taking her up on her offer, I told her to "Fuck off." To emphasize my displeasure at her attempt to crack me, I told her she should "hurry up and lose that baby weight" because she "looked like shit." She just shook her head. She didn't get angry or kick me out. "I guess you are not ready to talk yet," was all she said. She told me to come back when I was ready. I spit on the floor and left her office. During the last week of classes, we were cleaning out our lockers. Mine was full of junk. I came across some dirty gym clothes. I picked up a shirt and felt a hot stab of pain. It was a Sabres shirt my aunt had bought for me, way before we knew she was sick. The kid next to me must have been some sort of weak-ass football fan. He made a smart remark about no goal and I snapped. I dont think it would have happened if I hadnt found that shirt. I wasnt having an especially bad day or anything. I had to bury the pain. Unfortunately for him, I decided to bury it in his ass! I dropped the shirt in my locker and grabbed the kid by the neck. I shook him violently as I choked him. I watched his face get redder and redder. There was a

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group of students amassing around us. Unlike the usual throng of teenagers watching a fight, there was dead silence save for a few gasps. This was no school yard fisticuffs. I was choking the shit out of the kid. At some point, one of the girls yelled for me to stop. I got ahold of myself just enough to realize that I was about to kill him. Instead, I slammed his head into the locker once or twice. I watched blood pour from a deep gash near his left eyebrow. Satiated, I threw him to the floor. He turned onto his side, curled up a little, and vomited. I think he was crying. The whole thing took maybe two or three minutes. By the time the teachers had a chance to respond, it was over. As I watched blood mix with vomit on the floor, I was wrenched backward by a large male teacher. He was way too late. I didnt even know the kid. I may not have ever even seen him before. He was just walking by making a random asshole comment, as some guys tend to do. He probably didnt mean any harm, but none of that mattered. In fact, what he said to me was relatively innocent. I knew it, but it didnt stop me. I only had one way to react to the feelings of rage and pain that were pent up inside me. Three days before the end of the school year, I got expelled. Unless I could find a private school to take me in, I couldnt return to school the following year. The police were threatening me with charges. The boys mother stepped in and said that, in light of the fact that I was a lost kid, she didnt want me to face any punishment. She wanted me to get therapy. Without a victims formal complaint, the case was dropped. I knew I got lucky, but I didnt care. I would have been just as lost and angry in jail as I was at home. I found it hard to care about anything. That summer was a very self-destructive one for me. I started smoking and got into as many fights as I could. Once I punched a wall so hard, that I broke my wrist. I was a mess. It had started many months ago with grief, and then I was numb. Ultimately, I ended up feeling like death was the only way out. I was going downhill fast all summer. By the time Halloween rolled around, I had flirted with death twice. The first time I took a large dose of pills. I remember getting very cold and believing I was going to die. I laid in my bed, willing my spirit to go. I drifted off, but I woke up the next morning clammy and sick, but breathing. The second time, after an exhaustive internet search to find the right spot, I stabbed myself deeply in the thigh. Somehow, I missed the femoral artery. Right after it happened, I passed out. It hurt. I remember leaning back onto my bed and fading away. I could feel the blood running down my leg. I expected to bleed to death. I woke up groggy and disoriented the next afternoon. I was still alive, but I

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had lost a decent amount of blood. It was all over me and the bed, dry in some spots and gummy in others. I sat up slowly with a spinning head. I saw the knife a few feet away, sticking out of the wall where Id thrown it. There was a dried trickle of blood running down from it, almost all the way to the floor. I focused on the trickle as I tried to regain my bearings. I kicked my pants off from around my ankles and attempted to stand up. My legs shook. My head was pounding. It took a few tries before I could. Surprisingly, almost all the blood was contained on the bedspread and my boxer shorts. As weak as I was, I couldn't really have lost that much blood. I mean, I was still alive, wasnt I? I took a shower and let the hot water pour down on me and the wound in my leg. I had to sit in the tub because I was still very wobbly. It burned wonderfully. I cursed myself for not twisting the knife. I sobbed and sobbed. I pressed the wound under the water, hoping it would bleed again. I stayed in there long after the hot water was gone. I was shivering uncontrollably. I got out and wrapped up in a towel near the heater in the bathroom. When Id warmed up a little, I almost went back and got the knife to try again. I was so fucking tired and disenchanted that I didnt have another attempt in me at that moment. I taped a few little gauze pads over the gash and went to look for something to eat. Once I was in the kitchen, I was ravenous. I remember drinking an entire carton of orange juice in front of the fridge, still wearing my towel. After downing all the food I could get my hands on, Ill admit I felt somewhat better. I was still exhausted but I knew I had to clean up if I was going to be able to take a nap. I got a garbage bag from the kitchen and put my blanket in it. The sheets were all but untouched. There were a few traces of blood, but I could live with that. I was afraid of what my mother would say if she found out what happened. I was even more afraid to throw the blanket out because I knew she would notice it in the garbage and get angry. I shoved the bag into my closet and decided to worry about it later. I slept for the rest of the day. I woke, momentarily, to hear my mother walk by, or Frank in the bathroom, but I stayed in bed. No one checked on me. There had been many days where they saw very little of me. My absence that night wasnt that different than any other night. Even at home, I kept to myself as much as possible. Finally, when I couldnt sleep anymore I got up and sat at the computer. I was trying to keep my mind off everything. I guess you could say I met Christina at exactly the right time in my life. The first conversation we had was that night. I hadnt chatted with that many people online. Just some fucking idiot girls here and there. I mean if they want to show me their tits, Ill let them. I wouldnt

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really do that to a girl I know, but since I dont know them I dont feel bad. I figure its like self-directed porn. Thats probably the reason I answered her message. I needed something to cheer me up that night. But youd have to have some damn good boobs to make me feel better after the few days Id just had. Its funny when I think about it now, because she didnt even have a picture and she shot me down immediately. But I still talked to her. She didnt have a web cam; I couldnt hear her voice. The way she spoke to me, well, it spoke to me. I have a lot of barriers between me and other people, but she kind of snuck in under the radar. You never could have convinced me that I could be drawn in by some girl, sight unseen, but thats what happened. Our first conversation was too short. I wanted to know more about her. Maybe thats because she mentioned her mother right away, or maybe it was because she was so coy. I was looking forward to talking to her again. I sat by the computer for a long time, hoping she would come back online. When she didnt, I invited the first girl I had talked to that night to get hooked up. Normally, Id just sneak out of the house and meet her at the park or something, but I was sore and weak. It was a girl Id hooked up with a few times before. Catholic school girls. Gotta love em. She ate up my story about getting stabbed in a fight. I even let her try to convince me to go to the hospital. She begged to see the wound, but I wouldnt let her. Truth be told, it didnt look that bad, and I hoped she imagined something much worse. Lets just say she was a very giving young lady that night, on account of my condition. Slut. I was sad to hear Christina couldnt get out of the house. At that point in our relationship, I knew I was drawn to her, but the attraction was at least 95 percent sexual. Even so, when she said I couldnt meet her, I didnt say goodbye. I just talked to her. Most people dont have much to say to me. I never minded. Id rather be left alone. Maybe its just my reputation that was in the way of me making friends. I thought it was something personal. I felt like most people didnt like me. I didnt try very hard with anyone. This girl, though, she was different. She was interested in me in a friendly way. For some reason, I answered her if she asked me questions. Most people, if they got personal, Id just ignore them. I had hit my lowest point ever. Maybe I would have become instant friends with anyone who gave me attention that lonely night. I dont think so. Loss after loss in my life had all but erased my faith. I never expected to find a person that I could connect with at any level. But deep down, the real person that was trapped inside me still wanted to be loved. I think that right from the start something told me that she could love me. I latched onto it really hard, even if I never would

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have admitted it. Also, she showed me her vulnerability. No one ever really trusted me. It felt good that she could tell me things. When she said her mother hit her, it got to me. Not only could I identify with her, but I just wanted to help her. I wanted to know her. I was online constantly waiting for her. When I heard what her mothers boyfriend did, I was incensed. If she told me where she lived, I would have killed the guy. Id pull my knife out of the wall and go find that fucker in a hot minute. The fact that she was in a place where she could get hurt like that scared the shit out of me. Sometimes when we were talking, she would sign off abruptly and my mind would race. I'd worry about all the terrible things that could be happening to her. I felt very helpless not knowing where she lived. I didnt know why it was such a big deal to just tell me where she was so I could go help her. Im pretty sure that if it had been anyone else, I would have lost interest because of her being so afraid to trust me. The thing was, I understood what it was like to live in fear of your mother. I let it go. At that point, I couldnt have been sucked in any deeper. I was totally into her. In fact, by then I knew I loved her. When she suggested that we meet up at the park, I was smiling like a fool for hours. I was so excited to think that wed finally get to hang out. Even if only for a little while. I told her Id wait all day for one minute with her. She probably thought it was cheesy, but I was serious. I became obsessed with the idea. I went to the park many times to scope things out, and secretly hoped she might be there.

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3. Air
When I saw the way that boy looked at me as I lay on top of him in the park, I knew that everything we were going through together was real. He loved me as much as I loved him. From the moment I saw him frantically looking for me, I knew what I had to do. Not only did I have to jump him so hed see me, but I wanted to touch him. We needed to be together again soon. Seeing him made him all the more real to me, and it set in motion the events of the next few weeks. Knowing that I couldnt just up and leave the hospital without a plan to get the hell out of town, I spent a little while trying to decide what my best course of action was. I wished I could come clean and just have him help me escape, but I didnt want him to know about the hospital. I was already way too deep into the lies I had told him. He knew nothing of what was going on in my day-to-day real life. Everything I talked to him about was skewed to fit the story. All the details were true, but the players were off. I knew that one day Id have to come clean about it, but it wasnt the time for that now. I felt like I could pretty easily break his heart with the news that half of our relationship was a lie. I couldnt let that happen. Once he knew me well enough in real life, I could help him through it. Plus, I knew I couldnt lose him. Even if it meant lying forever once we were away from here. Looking back, I guess you could say there was a bit of grandiose thinking on my part about the whole thing. I had never really been in control of anything before, let alone someones heart. He made no bones about being head over heels for me, but I loved him back just the same. It made me sick sometimes to think that if he knew the truth he might never have wanted to know me. Still, I charged ahead, never sure where I planned to go. I just knew the general direction in which we were headed. I didnt get a chance to talk to him for a few days after we finally met in Delaware Park. The snow was so fluffy that day. It was picture perfect. It sounds kind of silly to even say it. After we met, I was dying to get on the computer, but for whatever reason I couldn't. Maybe someone else was online, maybe I had to talk to the psychologists or nurses that day. I just couldnt get to him, and it ached. Another reason I couldnt talk to him yet was the fact that I didnt have a plan. I knew hed have ideas of his own, so I had to have something ready to combat

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him with. It would have been so much easier if I had been truthful from the start. I forcibly pushed that thought to the recesses of my mind. As I turned things over and over, I realized there was only one way for us to be together. I would have to escape. My mother could keep me in the hospital as long as she wanted. I had no intention of staying there until I was eighteen. I also had no intention of waiting that long to be with the person I loved. Escape was the only option. Yeah, escape and a little bit more duplicity would have us together at last. I forced myself to believe that everything would be okay. I reasoned that right now there was no other way things could be. I was hugely in denial that I was doing anything wrong by telling him half truths. For a few days, I paid close attention to the way things were running in my ward. I noted when the nurses schedules changed. When the kitchen staff came and went. I noted the doors everyone used. I was really well-behaved so the nurses didnt keep as close a tab on me as they did some of the other patients. That would really work in my favor as I devised a plan to ditch the place. I took notes on everything I observed. One of the assistant cooks had a similar build to my own. She wasnt that much older than me, and I knew that somehow I could fit that into my plan. I watched her very carefully. Every day after lunch, shed slip onto the stairway for a cigarette before she started cleaning up. I made a note of all of her movements for three straight days. I told everyone I was writing poetry as I sat looking through the doorway of the kitchen or out the window down at the employee parking lot. I made sure to write a few poems in case someone wanted to see one, but mainly I was plotting. When I was confident my plan was flawless, I logged on to the computer. gamer14213: Holy shit I thought youd changed your mind or something.. blackrvn: of course not! things have just been hectic for me thats all. gamer14213: u ok? blackrvn: yea but i gotta get out of this house soon, cause im losin it. gamer14213: aw babe I kno how u feel. wat happened? blackrvn: just... idk a lot of fighting and stuff. im so stressed gamer14213: im rite with u on that one! say the word and ill get u out blackrvn: yea and its gotta b soon! gamer14213: say the word bby, ill come tonight blackrvn: not tonight. imma wait until the time is just right and just leave wen no one is looking. gamer14213: ill come right now. you come outside and well leave tonight blackrvn: no i have to catch her off guard. you cant come here. if things go wrong and they catch me leaving they cant know i was going off with someone. i cant have u getting in trouble gamer14213: i wont get in trouble. wat? is that disgusting bf of hers gonna stop

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me. Ill kill him. blackrvn: i kno u would, but i want this to be as simple as possible. the longer im gone before they notice im missing the better, so we have a head start. and if they think im alone thats even better. gamer14213: not a bad idea... yer right. blackrvn: :) In a day or two ill wait until she is in the bathroom or something and just walk out the door. how long will it take u to get ready to run away with me? how long do u need? gamer14213: like i said we can go tonight. theres nothing i need to do. blackrvn: well at least pack up your clothes and stuff. well need supplies. dont bring more than u can carry tho. gamer14213: where r we gonna go? blackrvn: where u wanna go? idc, just far away from here. gamer14213: somewhere warm! blackrvn: def! Ok i think i have an idea. does yer ma have a car? gamer14213: yea blackrvn: how u feel about stealing it? u have a key to it? gamer14213: yea i got one, and its fine with me if we take it. blackrvn: ok. figure out a place for us to go. idc where, but at least 500 miles away. get maps and directions printed out off of the internet. ill meet u at the park, and well be on our way. gamer14213: holy shit were really gonna do this... blackrvn: yea baby, its only a matter of time now. wen i get to the park ill call u and u can come meet me. gamer14213: yea then we can come back to my apartment and wait till it gets dark out. we can stake out my moms place. once we see her lights go out and we know shes sleeping we can leave with the car. Ill leave a note for my cousin saying im gonna be gone for a while. blackrvn: well both be long gone before anyone knows it, and no one will ever suspect we are together. gamer14213: this is fucking awesome. i love u so much blackrvn: o bby i love u so much too. i cant wait for this gamer14213: its been so long. i cant wait to get my hands on u. ive been dreaming of our first hug. blackrvn: omg me too gamer14213: while were waiting for it to get dark, wat r we gonna do? wink, wink blackrvn: idk wat u got in mind? gamer14213: oh u got my heart pounding... can i kiss u? blackrvn: u better! gamer14213: can I.. can we.. do you want to do more than that? blackrvn: i hope so. lets see what happens ok? gamer14213: aw ok. im rele excited now blackrvn: me too. Make sure u answer yer phone no matter wat ok? Ill meet u in

the park. same spot as the first time. ill hide in plain sight till u get there. Two days, three tops ok? gamer14213: fucking A!!!!! We both signed off happy that night. I knew I had a lot of work to do if this was going to be pulled off. I started getting ready right then and there. I laid all my clothes on the bed. It would be sad leaving all my favorite stuff behind, but I needed to blend in and not be noticed. Nothing says I just escaped from a mental ward better than my normal clothing. No, I needed to look as benign as possible. I wouldnt be able to leave with more than what I was wearing and the few things I could stuff into my big purse. Luckily, the kitchen worker I was planning to imitate was about one dress size larger than me, so I could afford to bulk up on the clothing a little. I decided on three or four layers of clothes and set aside the things I planned to take. I packed bras, underwear, socks and some other random things in my purse, stuck it all under the bed, and went to sleep. The next day, I solidified my plan, watching the flow of the schedule one final time. I had everyones patterns down pat. The nurses always worked 12-hour shifts. The first ones came in at 7 a.m., second shift came in at 1 p.m. About half the nurses leave at the 1 p.m. shift change. It was the busiest part of the day in the hospital. If anyone had visitors, they were usually there during lunch time, thus there were lots of people coming and going during the early afternoon. I planned to use the hustle and bustle to my advantage. I knew I was ready when I could predict what would happen next. I had a really good log of the comings and goings of everyone. I also had sketches of the kitchen, common room and nurses station so I could better visualize the escape route. I rolled my plan, from start to finish, around in my head, making sure I hadnt missed any angles. I didnt want to get caught, that wasnt my style. Also, if I was going to make it out, Id have to do it on the first try. Otherwise, theyd be watching me too carefully. I had snuck out of my moms house many times to take walks at night to clear my head. I told myself that this was no harder than that. She watched me just as carefully as these nurses did. I was giddy all day and did my best to hide it. I went to bed early that night, exhausted from planning. Trembling with anticipation. I told everyone I had a headache; I went to bed almost as soon as it was dark. The morning of the big day, I sprang out of bed as soon as I opened my eyes. I ate breakfast in my nightgown and went back to my room. I said I still didnt feel well. I wanted everyone to assume I was napping when I slipped out later on. When lunch time rolled around, I put on the entire pile of clothes, adding layer upon layer carefully for comfort and shape. I put on my most comfortable walking shoes and tied them in double knots. Didnt want to be tripping on them if I had to run at some point. I forced myself to breathe deeply as I grabbed the bag and nervously watched the clock. I glanced in the mirror. I looked strange in all of those clothes, but I didnt care.

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If everything went according to plan, I would have to begin walking toward the kitchen at exactly seven minutes before 1 p.m. The minutes crawled by, but finally it was time. I left my room and walked down the short corridor to the nurses station. Turning right, I passed the station and walked on through the little reception area and into the larger room where most of us spent the day watching television or visiting. The kitchen was straight ahead of me in the long, brightly lit room. The television was blaring, and I could see pretty much everyone was occupied. I didnt think anyone was paying the slightest attention to me. I could hear the blood rushing in my head, but my thoughts were clear and focused. I confidently made my way across the common area. I was a few strides from the doorway when I saw the kitchen girl remove her apron and hang it over a chair. I got a charge as I entered the kitchen. My energy surged; I was running on pure adrenaline. Her back was to me as she headed toward the stairway for her smoke break. I was quick but silent. She didnt hear me behind her. I picked up her apron. As soon as the door shut behind her, I quietly slid the lock closed. Someone would find her when they took out the garbage in an hour or two. Until then, they would think she had skipped out early on work if anyone even noticed she was missing. Someone might hear her banging, but the door was really thick and she was the only one on clean-up duty. I scouted the kitchen well one night during my planning stage. The door to the upper level of the kitchen was also locked. She was trapped. With all the noise in the common room, I doubted they would hear her, even if she screamed. I took her coat off the hook in the employees personal area in the corner and put it on. I hung her apron, its name tag still attached, on her hook. I glanced at it. Well, I guess for the next few minutes my name is Lynette, I joked to myself. Checking the coat pockets, I found her keys right where she always left them. Smiling, I raised the hood of the coat and zipped it up, quickly making for the door. When the cold air hit me, I almost panicked. This was really happening. My plan was working. I was almost out of there! I clicked the car starter on her keychain and looked around to see which one was hers. It seemed to be a mile away at the other end of the parking lot. I ran to it and got inside fast. It was a small, brown, foreign car that started quickly. Technically, I had never driven a car before, but I wasnt going to let a little detail like that get in my way. Id seen it done lots of times. I threw it in reverse, got out of the parking space and headed for the road. I was kinda jerky for a few blocks, but I got the hang of driving pretty easily, I must say. The part of the plan that I left out with Michael was the part where I throw everyone at the hospital off my trail. I took Lynettes car to the bus terminal and parked it way in the back. If they ever figured out that I was the one who took it, theyd think I jumped on a bus and headed out of town. In reality, I walked from the bus depot to the Church Street station. I then took the Metro Rail to Utica Station where I transferred to the 8A City Line. I rode

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that bus down Main Street and finally pulled the cord to request a stop about a block from Jewett Parkway. I wanted to walk by the Darwin Martin House on the way to the park, since I would likely not see it for awhile. Buffalo has a lot to offer in the way of cool architecture and landscaping. We get a lot of crap for our bad weather, but it really is a lovely city. We have Olmsted parks and a number of buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright. So far, things were going well. Still, I didnt want to let myself get my hopes up too high just yet. Walking toward the park, I was glad to be dressed in layers. I was cold. Strangely, Lynette didnt have gloves or a scarf in her coat pockets. Then again, she had a car. It seemed like Id never get to the meeting spot. It was kind of hard to find a pay phone. Halfway there, using a quarter Id found in the car, I called Michael. As if on cue, he answered on the first ring. Im on my way to the spot now, I said, not bothering to identify myself. Be there in 10 minutes, was his only reply. When I got there, it was all I could do not to burst from excitement. I sat down on a bench next to a woman who was lacing up her sneakers for a run. I leaned back and tried to look calm. No one seemed to notice me, not even the woman right next to me. As she jogged off, I saw him coming up a walkway lined with bare trees. He was moving quickly. This time, he didnt have any trouble finding me. His eyes met mine immediately, and he was smiling a big, happy grin. He looked almost uncomfortable, like he wasnt used to smiling like that. I jumped off the bench and made a beeline for him. He broke into a jog, too, and we were together in an instant. His arms flew around me, lifting me off the ground in a long, tight hug. He was stronger than he looked. He was kind of a little guy, although still taller than me. I started crying. He hugged me even tighter. I noticed a few people looking at us, probably because I was bawling, and I didnt want to risk anyone remembering my face, even with the hood up, in case my escape made it to the evening news or something. My mother would so go there. I whispered to him that we should get moving. He winked at me, kissed me quickly on the cheek and grabbed my hand. Lets get out of here, he said as he dragged me off in the direction of his apartment. We slowed our pace as we left the park. I felt a little less nervous now that we were finally together. We walked up Parkside Avenue to Hertel Avenue and stopped for a sandwich at Marcos Italian Deli. We carried our food a few more blocks to his place. I never realized he lived upstairs from Terrapin Station Ltd. I love that store! We chatted the entire time, talking like wed been hanging out for years. It was pretty amazing how fast we clicked. I was nervous that we wouldnt have the same chemistry in person as we did online, but we did indeed. In fact, it was even a little bit better. I was very much in love. I wasnt usually so good with guys, but I was cool as hell that day. We ate lunch sitting on the bed in his room. We couldnt take our eyes off each other. I was getting hot, and it wasnt just all the clothes I was wearing. I

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was so happy to be out of the fucking hospital! I couldnt believe I was here with this boy, my boy, finally. I gave in easily when he asked me if I wanted to take a few of my shirts off. Smiling seductively, I told him that he could take off as many of my shirts as he liked. He sprang at me, exuberantly kissing and groping me. He seemed a little over-stimulated. I put my hand on his chest to slow him down a bit. Sorry, he said, I cant believe how nervous I am right now. Ha! I said. What do you have to be nervous about, babe? Its just me. Ah youre right, its just first impressions, you know? Dont worry, Im impressed. I joked. I leaned back on the pillows and patted the spot on the bed next to me. We have all afternoon, I said. I let him hold me for awhile and tried to allow myself to feel safe. The escape went so smoothly that I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was wondering if they knew yet that I had left the hospital. If they did, they would be looking for me. I was hoping that my absence would escape their watchfulness until the morning. I was pretty sure that I had at least until dinner time. I had spent many a day alone in my room without anyone bothering to check on me. Not going to a meal would normally get you a bed check, but everyone thought I had come down with a cold. So maybe, just maybe, they wouldnt notice I was gone until bedtime. If the universe really smiled on me, no one would look for me until the morning. He must have noticed how tense I was. Thinking about the hospital, and lying to him about it, felt awful. It consumed me for a few minutes, and I knew I needed to say something. I just had to think about the right way to put it. Whats wrong? he asked Im scared, I told him, just really, really scared. He raised himself up on his elbow and looked down on me. Smoothing my hair back, he said, Your mother will not find you here. He kissed me on the forehead. He was a pretty good mind reader. I was terrified we would get caught. I didnt feel like I needed the hospital at all. I hadnt been depressed since they took me away from my mother. Even after all that had happened to me in there, home would have been worse. But I was so worried about my sister that I couldnt even think about her. She was alone there. I had to push those thoughts out of my mind. As soon as I turned 18, Id go back for her, but right now I had to save myself. You dont understand, I started to say, but he cut me off. Yes I do hun, you have no idea how I understand! He looked so empathetic. Why do you think Im here with my cousin right now? he said. I wasnt safe either. He took his eyes off me and put his head down. He looked so sad, it could have broken my heart. I got a little teary and I could swear his eyes were slightly moist as well. I embraced him again and held him close. Too bad we couldnt just stay here, I thought. I wished we didnt have to run.

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As we snuggled, he whispered, Everything will be okay. It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself and not me. I just held onto him, and he to me. It was a moment like none other in my life. We completely understood what the other was feeling. We had no need for words because we connected on an entirely different plane. It was almost spiritual. We were just sharing our pain and accepting the comfort we brought each other, but I had never trusted anyone enough to do that before. I couldnt ruin that moment. I knew I had to tell him, but now was not the time. In a little while, I thought, as we drifted off to sleep. The problem was, we hadnt meant to go to sleep. I was sweating like crazy or I probably wouldnt have woken up until morning. I untangled myself from Michaels arms and sat up. I turned on the tiny bedside lamp and looked at the clock. It was 11:45 p.m. We had planned to leave around midnight, so I was pleased that I woke up. I knew I should probably wake Michael as well, but he looked so cute laying there. We were planning to drive through the night, so I figured it was a good thing we had napped. I started to take off one of the shirts and heard a sleepy voice say, Hey, you said I could do that. A promise is a promise, I replied. His voice was like a gentle hand running down my back. I knew we needed to go, but what was an extra hour? I winked at him and raised my arms a little so he could get the shirt off. Underneath my black sweater, I had a red, long-sleeved T- shirt. Under that, I had a grey, short sleeved v-neck, a black tank top and my bra. By the time he got to the tank top, he was really getting into stripping me down. He took off each layer slowly, dropping it carefully next to us on the floor. As he made for the last layer before he got to see a little skin, I gently stopped him. I wanted to tease him a little, but I was also nervous about him seeing my scars. I wasnt sure how Id explain them if he asked. I was kicking myself for turning on the light. I winked and unbuttoned my jeans, leaning back with my hands behind my head. He got the hint and pulled the zipper down ever so slowly. He laughed out loud when he saw there were more layers on my bottom half, too. Under those black jeans, I wore blue pajama pants with small yellow ducks all over them. Giana had given them to me for my birthday. They were super cute, in a little girl sort of way. He joked that I was starting to remind him of a jaw breaker wearing all these different outfits. I told him it was the only way I could leave with some of my things. Well, in that case, its more like unwrapping a present than eating a jaw breaker, he said. Once he had slipped off the jeans, I was left wearing what amounted to my usual pajamas. He took off his shirt. I started to feel a little self-conscious because it was now or never if I wanted to warn him about the scars. I ... I didnt know what to say. I began again. I have some scars, I said quietly and motioned to the lower half of my body. He ran his fingers down my arms and looked at them. I hadnt even thought

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about the scars there. There were only a few because I never wanted to cut where someone could see. There are lots more, I said. "I just thought you should know." Its okay. I have a few, too. He looked a little sheepish. He took off his pants and showed me his thigh. He pulled open a drawer in his nightstand, pointing to a knife with dried blood staining the first two inches or so. That scared me because I knew he had to really be hurting to have done that. There is something I have been wanting to tell you, he said. I was surprised to hear that because I, too, had a story to tell. The day before I met you, I did this, he said, running his finger over the scar. I was wanting to die, and I think you saved me. He was so sincere. There were a few bigger scars on his leg, but the stab wound looked pretty bad. The look on his face almost broke me. I leaned forward and kissed the scar. He leaned back, looking into my eyes with fierce electricity. The rest of the night was a passionate blur except for how hard he laughed when he realized I still had leggings on under my PJs. If he saw my other scars at all, I didnt know it. It was an awesome night. Even though our plans to leave under the cover of darkness were ultimately foiled because of it, it was a night Ill never forget. Suddenly, it was morning and we were jumping out of bed. I folded my pile of clothes as we discussed how we would have to adjust the plan now that it was daylight. I was afraid that my mother, and perhaps the police, would be looking for me by now. We decided that he would go to where his mom worked, steal the car, and come back for me. If someone was driving around the city trying to find me, I'd be much easier to spot walking down the street than in a car. He left. I waited in the kitchen. I wanted to be able to run as soon as he got there. I ate a banana and used the remote to flip through the television stations. I came across AM Buffalo, our local morning news program. My fears were realized when one of the top stories was about a teenager who ran away from the psych ward the day before. The two- or three-minute blurb included a description of me, as well as my 7th grade school picture. Thank God my braces were off now, at least I looked a little different from the photo. I have no idea why they used such an old photo. The report went on to call me dangerous and a risk to myself and possibly others. Local authorities and the hospital staff surmised that I may have left town. I guess they found Lynettes car. An Amber Alert was issued. There had been a nationwide search for me mounted at 11 oclock last night. Hey! Michael shouted from the doorway. What the hell is going on? I nearly had a heart attack. I hadnt seen him standing there. He took the banana skin out of my hand and threw it in the trash. You okay? he asked. You look sick, babe. Didnt you hear me beeping out there! Lets go! I did a double take. Sorry, I was just watching the news," I stammered. I wished like hell I had said something last night. He turned and watched the end of the story, which included a recap of my escape, another exact description of

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me, and that picture again. He switched the television off and winked at me. Thats one fucked-up chick, he said. He may have heard the entire broadcast, but somehow he hadnt made the connection to me. They must have said my name a hundred times in the story. I realized he probably didnt even know my last name. Once again, I knew that now was not the time to tell him the truth. I dont want him calling me a fucked-up chick ever again. It stung to hear it the first time. I convinced him to let me lay low on the back seat for the first few hours. I would feel much more comfortable sitting up once we were out of town. He thought I was being overly cautious, but he humored me. While I was back there, I decided I should change my look as much as possible so that the Amber Alert didnt end up slowing us down. I was going to have to dye my hair or something, and probably cut it, too. At some point, Michael handed me his tablet computer because he figured I was bored. I didnt really like games that much, but I turned the thing on. It had a 3G connection to the internet. I went to the website for the news channel I was watching earlier and found my story. Nothing had changed. They couldnt find any record of a bus ticket being purchased in my name so they were checking into other forms of travel. Good, I thought. Keep checking, because Im in a car headed west on Interstate 90 with a boy to whom I have no known connection. When I told him to pick a destination for us, he ran with it. He did an excellent job. He not only had maps but had planned two alternate routes in case something came up and we had to change paths. We were headed toward Utaline, Colo., about an hour and a half outside Grand Junction in the middle of nowhere. He had circled at least a hundred hotels on the map, on and off our main route, so we could stop anywhere at any time. It was a 28-hour drive, and we planned to do it in the largest chunks of travel time that we could handle. We both agreed we would not feel safe until we started our new lives. When it was my turn to drive, and his turn to lay on the back seat, we listened to music and I let my thoughts wander. As of now, it seemed that no one in Buffalo had any idea where I was. With any luck, there would be no way for them to find me. I was hopeful. My thoughts turned to the previous night. I was surprised that sex with Michael hadnt brought up any bad feelings on account of the rape. I think that, had it been any other circumstance, I would have been less than comfortable. I really loved him, and I felt like someone was finally getting to know the real me. I couldnt wait to do it some more, maybe even right there in the back seat. I drove until after midnight. We decided to stop at a motel in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, because we were both exhausted. The farther we got from Buffalo, the better I felt. Walking toward the front desk with him, I was confident. Amber Alert or not, they were looking for one girl not a couple. We were as safe as we cold be. Michael used a fake I.D. to get us a room. He paid in cash. When I asked him where he got the money, as we walked away from the counter, he said not to

worry because he had plenty. Its odd, but until that moment I hadnt even thought about money or fake identification. He was obviously the brains of the travel part of our getaway. He did a great job. We slept a few hours and got back on the road. The hotel was fucking disgusting. There was no way I was going to take off my clothes in there. Luckily, Michael had the same sentiments. I think I even slept with my shoes on.
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It was kind of unusual for me to let go of control in any situation, but I loved letting her drive. I knew she was too young. Shit, neither of us actually had a license. She was pretty good at following the maps for a girl. I didnt tell her that; shed kill me. Sometimes, wed go long stretches without talking. But the entire ride was comfortable. I had a lot to think about, and so did Christina. She was so afraid that her mother was going to catch her and drag us back home. I noticed her thinking about it a lot. In my bedroom, I had made a silent promise to protect her. I thought it would sound cheesy if I said it out loud, but I meant it. I was not going to let that beast of a mother hurt her anymore. If I had to fight for her, I would. We would run until she was safe. I appreciated her letting me be the one to make the travel plans. It meant she trusted me. It also meant that I could manipulate the situation however I saw fit. Not that I planned to do anything wrong, but the life I have lived so far has made me a person who understands how to take precautions. I was so happy to be out of town, on our way to a life where we both could be happy. I didnt care if I never saw my mother again. Sooner or later, Id call Frank but I wasnt going to let him know where I was. Something very special happened that first night we spent together. Yes, we fucked, but that wasnt the best part. And coming from me, that is next to unbelievable. Id fucked plenty of girls, but that night we bonded. I had never felt so close to anyone. Not even Ang, except maybe on her death bed. I wondered what my aunt would think about the situation I was in. She would know what to do about Christinas mother. We wouldnt have had to run if she were around. She would have been able to help. Not to mention, I wouldnt have had anything to run from if she was still here. Too bad. Poor me. I did have to run. That isnt a topic I could ever contemplate for long, so once again I pushed it out of my mind. As I glanced into the back seat, I could imagine her in her bedroom putting on all those clothes and walking out, right under everyones nose. I wonder how long it was before her mother realized she was gone? Did she call the police? I hoped not. I really wished they would just figure that she ran away and leave it at that. I was pretty sure that's what my family would think. I knew no one would bother to look for me. Christina was a tough girl. I had to give her that. She was a real champ in the first rat-bag motel we crashed in. As I opened the door to the room, she flipped on the light. I heard a rustling and froze as hundreds of cockroaches made for the dark cracks and crevices of the room. She looked aghast, but she kept her cool. I

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wouldnt have blamed her if she demanded we leave. I almost freaked out myself. Well, I guess were sleeping with the lights on, she said. Im getting my blanket from the car. She wrapped it around us and we slept soundly, face to face, with her head resting on me. As soon as morning came, we were out of there. The shower was scarier than the bugs. We were back on the road, a bit grimier than we would have liked, but on the move just the same. I couldnt stop checking the news to see if there were updates to my story. We drove all afternoon, but I couldnt let it go. I was worried beyond belief. I made sure to continuously clear my search history so he couldn't see what I had been doing. I didn't think he would bother to check, but I still had to be careful. The night before, I had felt fine but my sixth sense told me something was wrong now. After about the 50th check of the website, there was finally a new development in the story: The escaped girl is likely accompanied by another troubled teenager. He should also be assumed dangerous. The site now had a picture of Michael as well as the car we were traveling in. My stomach lurched, and I let out a moan. Michael started to question me about it when his phone rang. The phone was loud, and I could hear both sides of the conversation. It was John. He gave me little insight into how they made the connection between us, but apparently the Buffalo Police Department had just been at the apartment looking for him. Yeah, man, I told them I thought you were there this morning. I didnt say anything about the girl, I heard John say. Good, Michael said. They probably wanted to question me about my moms car. We stole it. Oh, shit, well I didnt let on that I knew anything, John said. Where are you two headed? Colorado, to visit with a friend of mine, Michael said. Careful, man! John said. Keep in touch, but get rid of that cell phone! Thanks for the heads-up, Michael said. Ill get in touch as soon as I can. He hung up the phone and glanced back at me. We got a problem, he said. Yeah, I heard. We gotta ditch this car, was my reply. He turned off the phone and removed the battery. We put it in the glove box and locked it. If John didnt say anything to the police about me, how did they know we were together? The car couldnt have been what clued them in. I was tingling with anxiety. I didnt know what to say to Michael. Should I tell him the truth now or after we ditched the car? Shit! How the hell were we even going to get to where we were going without transportation? I doubt that he had made maps for the

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contingency of walking. And even if he had, I wasnt going to hike through the freaking mountains of Colorado, without camping gear, to go meet this friend of his. Shit, he said. "Its getting dark anyway, lets stop for the night and figure out what we are going to do. I think we should keep going, I said. We were in Sterling, Colo., nearly there. They think you were in Buffalo this morning, they wont be looking for us this far away tonight, he said. Well be a lot safer once we are off the road. Yeah, okay, but Im tired and we have almost a days drive ahead of us still, I said. He smiled his little electric smile, and I knew what he really wanted. I shouldnt have given in so easily but, oh, if you could have seen his face it made me temporarily forgot that they were looking for us. Not just him or just me, but both of us, together. I still couldnt figure out how they had made the connection. Still, something about another night with him put everything into a sick sort of perspective. Somehow, I could justify stopping again in our stolen car so we could spend the night in each others arms. We picked a nicer place that night. I really wanted a shower before we got down to business. Actually, that is where we ended up getting down to business, if you must know. Its awesome because the hot water in hotel showers pretty much never runs out. By the time we were finished, we knew every inch of that bathtub. Exhausted, we stepped onto the bath mat with wrinkly fingers and pruned toes. We turned up the heat so my hair could dry, and thats when I remembered that I needed to change my look. I sent him to the store for hair dye and scissors. Giving him the job of picking out whatever color he wanted was an interesting move on my part. I wanted to tell him to get a nice shade of brown or something like that, but I wanted to see what he would pick. When I mentioned scissors, he refused at first, until I promised I would only cut my own hair. I had to laugh at him for being so vane. I, however, had a lot more to lose. If I got caught, Id end up back at the hospital. Hed only have to go back to Johns. I told myself that if it came down to it, Id have to ditch him if I thought we were going to get caught. Not forever, I mean, because we would find each other again. I just wasnt going back to that hospital , no matter what. I stood in the grocery store aisle, staring at all the different brands and colors of hair dye. I understood why she had told me to make the decision. There were way too many to choose from. A girl would take far too long to make this decision. She might not even be able to handle it. Id seen my mother stare and stare and then leave with nothing, only to go home and call a friend to consult. It was way easier for me to decide. I just had to envision what color I thought would be hottest on her and get out of there. I immediately thought red was my best bet. I figured the most expensive brand was the best one. I looked at all the

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red dyes they had and picked a nice dark one. Blood red, Id call it. Totally hot. I grabbed a pair of hair-cutting scissors, along with a few drinks and snacks, and left. I must have been in the store for 20 minutes. Perhaps less. As I walked out the door, I scanned the parking lot. I had forgotten exactly where I left the car. I started walking in the general direction of where I thought it was. As I got closer, I realized there was a police cruiser parked in the middle of one of the lanes. I walked an aisle or two past where the cops were and saw that they were examining my car. I think they were sitting there in the dark hoping I would come back. I have no idea how they noticed that car. I have a habit of leaving the dome light on. Sometimes people would stop to write down my license plate and have someone in the store make an announcement so my battery wouldn't die. If a cop saw the lights on, maybe he ran the plates since they were from out of town? I have no idea. I walked to the edge of the parking lot and stood in a clump of trees. They gave me a good amount of cover. I decided to get the hell out of there when two more patrol cars showed up and four officers went into the store. I knew who they were looking for. I jogged back to the hotel, scared as hell that Id get caught. Thank God she hadnt come with me. If they found me, no one would have known she was even there. When she saw my face as I slipped quickly in the door, she immediately knew something was wrong. I told her they had found the car. She had a panic attack on the spot. We sat on the bed for a few minutes until she felt better. I told her that wed figure out a way to get to my friend Crystal's house where wed be safe. She reminded me that we should have just kept on driving and I tackled her onto the pillows. She let me cuddle her for a few minutes but then got up. I sat there, watching her in front of the mirror. She sized up her hair from every angle. Once she was satisfied with what she saw, she began chopping away. It was intense. I was thinking that I would not have been that brave, to just go at my own hair, hacking away like that. When she was finished, I expected to see a monstrosity, but it was really cute. Way shorter, but adorable. I was proud of her. She was gorgeous. I knew I was prejudiced, but she was the damn finest girl Id ever seen. She squealed when she saw the hair color I bought. I knew shed love it. You would think I had never told her that our car was impounded or that the police were probably looking for us at this very moment. She was happy and calm, after the panic attack, of course. She said if I didnt want to cut my hair, I should at least wear it under a baseball cap. I laughed at her because, really, she had no reason to change her look so drastically. Her mother would never find her here. But I loved seeing her getting into the spirit of things. She was right about me taking precautions, though. We bought a Colorado Avalanche cap in the hotel lobby. I said a silent apology to the Buffalo Sabres for wearing that garbage, but I needed to blend in. We also got a second hikers backpack so wed both have a place for our

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belongings. On my tablet, I found the location of the bus station and the schedules. The plan was to wear sunglasses and remain low-key. It would be no problem for us to make it unnoticed, even if it was going to take almost 12 hours to get there. I was so glad that we had been careful about bringing our maps and belongings into the hotel with us. Had they been in the car, we would not have known where to go. The bus didnt leave until 2:30 that afternoon. With more than four hours to kill, we walked around a mall and watched a movie. We did our best to stay unnoticed. As far as we knew, we were successful. I figured the bus station would be a risky place. I decided we should pretend to be brother and sister. If anything spooked us, wed travel some other way. When we finally sat down in our seats on the bus, I could hardly believe it. Walking past police officers and security guards, I felt absolutely sure wed be found out. Thankfully, the bus wasnt full. We reclined our seats and relaxed. I know I slept a little, making sure to shield my face whenever possible. He thought it was silly of me to feel the need to hide, but he didnt know everything. A few hours into the trip, we pulled into the station in Denver. We had an hour and a half layover. I took the tablet and sat down in the corner. We had eaten dinner pretty quickly and had a decent amount of time to do nothing. I checked the internet. The latest update on my news story was, again, not good. They found the car for sure. The craziest thing was, they assumed he had done something to me. It didnt make any sense. They said they found evidence in his home that led authorities to believe he probably hurt me. That, paired with the fact that his roommate, John, hadnt seen any girls around, convinced them that I was dead. I couldnt imagine what evidence they could have found, unless Id left some clothing behind or something. I was freaking out. They were most assuredly looking for him in this building at this very moment. I told him I was scared and needed to go outside for fresh air. I was fighting another panic attack because I didnt want him to think I was a complete emotional wreck. I breathed deeply. I think the cold air helped me a little. It was freezing, despite our warm coats. I didnt know how to drop this latest news bomb on him. I had hoped we could talk about it from the safety of his friends house tonight. I didnt want to talk in public about being in the loony bin. I figured he would get mad. Especially since it meant we might have to find another way to get to Utahline. Also, of course, because I had been lying to him from the start. In an odd twist of fate, as I was pondering how to tell him, he gestured toward our bus driver who was talking to two Colorado State Police officers. The cops were showing him pictures. They were only a few yards from us. There was no telling if they knew we were on the bus or not. Fuck, I knew I had a bad feeling for a reason, I thought. I was relieved at my

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good fortune as much as I was scared. We need to get out of here now right now, he said as he put his arm around me, guiding me quickly around the corner of the building. Walking directly past two police cars, and at least three security cameras, we hailed a taxi and asked the guy to take us across town. As I had feared, the bus was too risky. Once we were out of the cab, we decided it was too risky to go to a hotel. He couldnt believe they were tailing him like this just for taking his mothers car. He didnt have any idea of the danger we were in or how many people were looking for us. They thought he had hurt me. This was no search for a teenage car thief. It was a nationwide hunt for a possible murderer. How the hell had they connected us to each other? I still couldnt figure that out. The Amber Alert was still in effect. I knew it was too risky to go anywhere public. I didnt like the idea of staying outside all night. I was already shivering, but what other choice did we have? If we were gonna walk, it wasnt gonna be at night. I was anguished over my decision not to tell him the truth. Earlier, I had been just waiting for the right time to let the cat out of the bag. Now, however, I felt like things had gone too far. I would have to wait until everything was over to confess. I had to think one step ahead because I knew the real deal. I couldnt let anything bad happen to us. I loved him so much. I couldnt wait until everything was out in the open, but now was not the time for honesty. It was time to be smart and get out of this mess. If it had been anyone else, I would have ditched him and let him take the rap for killing me. Everyone would think I was gone and I could live in peace forever. But I knew that was not an option here. The only peace forever that I could envision for myself was spending my life with him. The only option I could figure was to steal a car and get to Crystals place as fast as we could. She knew we were coming, just not exactly when. If we got there in the middle of the night, so be it. I wished like hell I hadnt left my phone in the car. Communication with John or Crystal would make things a lot easier right now. Denver is a big place; lots of cars around. I was sure we could find one left running or one with a key in it. I told her we needed to walk around and look for a vehicle we could snatch. She took to the idea way easier than I thought. Kinda like she stole cars every day or something. The problem was, absolutely no one left their keys in the car in a city this big. We walked around for a few hours and the later it got, the less people were around. We werent even downtown anymore. We were trying to walk in a grid pattern so we could search every street. Once it became apparent that we wouldnt find a car with a key in it, I was starting to think we might have to come up with another plan. Around midnight, I realized that if we didnt find something soon we might have to spend the night on the street. I didnt want to put my baby girl through

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that, but there was no way we could risk staying at a motel now that they knew where I was. I was getting really frustrated, not to mention tired, after all the walking around we had done. I could tell she was almost at the end of her rope, too. We stopped for sandwiches. I asked Christina to go inside and order because I thought there was an off-chance Id be recognized. She looked terrified, and I laughed at her as she walked in to the sub shop alone. I leaned on the front of the building, trying to blend in as much as possible. There werent many people around, although there was a busy nightclub down the street with music blaring. It had started to snow at some point in the evening, and now it was coming down in earnest. I was shivering. I wished I could have gone inside, too, if only to get warm for a minute or two. Across the narrow street was a gas station with a tiny grocery store. Christina had only been gone maybe two minutes when I saw a man get out of his car at the gas pump and walk toward the store. He slipped on some ice and fell. A few people from the store came out to assist him. He stood up slowly, saying he thought he might have twisted his ankle. Under the guise of seeing if the guy was okay, I walked over to them. I knew he was probably fine by the way he landed. What I was really interested in were the keys I saw fly out of his hands when he fell. I wanted to get to them before he realized they were missing. I had seen them arc into the air and land in the snow a decent distance from him. The people helping the man insisted he come inside and sit for a few minutes. He complied. No sooner was he through the doors of the mini-mart than I grabbed those keys out of the snow and dashed behind the wheel of his car. Christina was nowhere to be seen, so I had to circle the block and hope no one noticed the car was gone until we were safely out of there. I circled once, twice, three times. I was about to piss my pants I was so nervous. Where the hell was she? As I rounded the corner a fourth time, I knew my luck had run out when I saw the red and blue flashing lights in my rearview mirror. Fuck!! Fuck! Fuck!! I was caught! What the hell took so long with those goddammed sandwiches? Why was she was still in there? A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. On one hand, I hoped she could see what was happening so that she didnt think I abandoned her. But then again, I didnt want her to come out and risk having to go back home. If they thought I was with someone, surely theyd want identification from both of us. When they found out she was a runaway, wed both be on our way home. I should have waited until she came outside to take the car, but I never expected her to be in there for 15 minutes! I hoped that she could use the maps she had to get to Crystals. I could meet up with her once I straightened all of this out. I didnt think my mother would actually press charges. I didnt know, though, what would happen about stealing the second car. Christina had all our money in the backpack and no one would be looking for her here. It might be awhile before we saw each other, but at least she would be safe. Crystal would let her stay; she had promised me that she wouldnt

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give us up. I handed the officer my learners permit through the window and decided to cooperate as much as possible. I dont like cops or anything, but I didnt feel like getting my ass kicked either. Whose car is this? he demanded, noticing my New York State license and the Colorado registration I fished out of the glove box. Its my uncles, I replied. You ran the stop sign, he said, almost absent-mindedly. Ill have to issue you a ticket. I was relieved; he didnt know the car was stolen! I thought he pulled me over because of the car! I must have rolled through the stop sign because I was hurrying around and around trying to meet up with Christina. I watched through the rearview mirror as the cop called in my information. My relief was shortlived. I was sure that my identification would be tagged because of my moms car. When I saw the cop talking on the radio, I thought he looked a little freaked out as he sat there. I couldnt help wonder what was going to happen to me. The cop had been in the car for a few minutes when Christina finally emerged from the sandwich shop, looking pissed off. She looked toward the spot where I was standing earlier when she left me. Puzzled, she looked across the street and up and down the block. She looked frightened until she met my gaze. She glanced back at the cop car and I gave it my all to will her to walk away, to find her way to Crystals alone. She must have understood because she tapped the front of the bag where the maps were. After mouthing I love you, she took off like a shot around the corner. The cop, still writing in his notebook and talking into the radio, didnt seem to have noticed our brief interaction. For her sake, I was so happy to see her disappear. Yet at the same time, it broke my heart. I knew shed be able to get where she needed to go without me. She was a smart girl and didnt spook easily. Even if she had to spend the night out here alone, I knew shed be fine. But I would really miss her. Moments later, about four more police cars showed up and surrounded me. I thought it was overkill, seeing as they didnt even seem to know yet that I had stolen the second car. Having eight or nine guns pointing at you is really not something anyone should have to go through. That shit was scary. Time seemed to stand still as they screamed at me to put my hands on the steering wheel. One of them wrenched the door open. Another yelled at me to put my hands on my head and get out of the car. As soon as I emerged, I was knocked to the ground and cuffed. Someone had their knee in the small of my back. Someone else had a heavy hand on my neck, grinding my face into the snowy, salty street. I could feel hands searching me for weapons and heard someone say I was clean. By the time they dragged me to my feet, my nose was bleeding and I was soaked from lying in the road. I couldnt believe the force they were using!

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Someone read me my rights and I was thrown into the back seat and buckled in tightly. My nose was bleeding onto my clothes, and my wrists were so tightly fastened in the cuffs that my fingers were tingling. I felt horrible. I really hoped Christina had gotten out of there and didnt see what just happened. Before I knew it, I was at the police station being dragged up the steps. I was starting to get scared because none of this attention made any sense to me. They sat me on a bench and tethered me to it, connecting my handcuffs to a chain that was looped around the slats in the back. They began asking questions. It started off simple. Name, address, basic info. They took my belt and shoelaces and put them in a bag along with my wallet and other valuables. I didnt mind taking off my ring or my earrings, but when they unfastened my necklace, I couldnt help but tear up a little. Id never taken it off in all the time Id had it. I felt queasy and sad. I was fingerprinted and photographed, all the while being treated gruffly. Im no bitch, but it was still intimidating. They were seriously making a point. I wondered if my mother told them to do that to me. Its something she would do. Once that thought entered my mind I was relieved. I convinced myself that that must be it, there was no other explanation that I could come up with. When I was finally allowed a phone call, I decided to get in touch with my mom. It was risky because she might tell me to go fuck myself. If she did, Id have wasted my call and wouldnt have any help. I contemplated calling John, but figured if I could just talk to her shed drop the charges and I could get out of there. When she answered, she seemed almost panicky. Ma, Im sorry I took your car, I started. I was going to bring it back! Screw the car, Michael. Is it true? She almost whispered. Is what true? Oh shit, I thought, shes drunk. I better make sure she drops these charges before she passes out for the night. Where is she, Michael? she asked. Holy shit, she must have been drinking all afternoon. I dont know what you are talking about, Mom! I said. I need your help. Of course, of course. Dont tell me over the phone, she said. Ill be there as soon as I can! I called your Uncle Anthony Anthony? Was she serious? Was she calling in a family favor over this? Why couldnt she just drop the charges herself? Her brother Anthony was a big-time defense lawyer in Florida. I hadnt seen him since Ang died. The phone cut out after probably three minutes, not nearly long enough to find out what the hell was really going on. They took it away and some people came into the room and sat down. At this point, I was pretty sure this had to be almost over. I was exhausted. It was at least 3 a.m. I was hoping Christina was okay. I was so glad she wasnt here to go through all of this with me.

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4. Ignition

Flinging the backpack onto my back, I took off as fast as I could around the corner. There was no way I was going to go back to the hospital. I had to run! I hoped my Michael didnt get into too much trouble. The look on his face was pretty tenuous. I wondered where he had found that car. I couldnt believe that I wouldnt be able to talk to him and get the story until we were safe in Utaline. I had no idea what my plan was just yet. I headed toward the sound of pounding music. I needed a place to crash for the night. I had very few options. I could find someone to hook up with for the night. If he was drunk enough, we probably wouldnt even have to go all the way. It wasnt my favorite option. I didnt like the idea of being around strangers right now, let alone sleeping with one. Still, the thought slithered across my mind. As I neared the next corner, I could feel the base pumping inside a club. I looked around to size up the situation. It was freezing out here and I needed help. I just had to decide who was going to help me, and how. Straight ahead, were three or four drunk frat boys. I was sure I could easily catch the attention of at least one of them. The thought of it made me sick. These guys were not my type. I walked across the road and passed them. Continuing to survey the situation, I noticed an older guy who looked like he was alone. He was leaning on the fence, smoking. I almost said hello to him, but I saw the look of lust in his eyes just in time. Way too gross! I thought aloud in a whisper. I was nearing the end of the block when I noticed two girls standing in a parking lot leaning on a big blue car. They looked upset about something. Somehow, I knew they were probably my best bet for not sleeping on the corner tonight. I walked over to them, smiling. You guys okay? I called, as I bridged the gap between us as quickly as possible. They looked a little leery, but were still relatively welcoming. I saw them glance at each other, and they seemed to simultaneously agree that I was no

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threat to them. Our roommate disappeared on us, the first girl said. The last time we saw her she was dancing with some guy. Let me guess, I said, Shes driving? The second girl cocked her head questioningly. How did you know? Same thing happened to me. I held up the bag of sandwiches and told them that our food took too long and when I came out, she was gone. I waited by the restaurant for like a half an hour, walking up and down trying to find her, and then it hit me. She left. I caught a glimpse of the bumper sticker on the car they were leaning on. It was from the Johnson and Wales University Lady Wildcats Basketball team. It gave me an idea. Want to catch a cab back to campus together? I asked. I left my phone in her car so Im not going to be able to get ahold of her. Sure, said the first girl. She flipped open her phone and called a cab. As we walked over to the front of the club to meet the cab, the girls introduced themselves. The first girl, a blond cheerleader type, said her name was Karen. She was obviously a smart girl, but I could see that she got more with her looks than she did with her brain. I was a little jealous. The second girl was Mary. Also gorgeous but in a completely opposite, girl-next-door sort of way. Where Karen was sultry, Mary was wholesome and voluptuous. I was willing to bet they had tons of friends. I was grateful they took me in so easily. Then again, they were both at least a little drunk. I made sure I was very chatty and sweet on the ride over. We were laughing and joking as we stepped out of the car. Michael would have been proud if he saw me. I gave an Oscar-worthy performance. Where do you live? Mary asked. I glanced around, letting my face appear first nervous and then a little shocked. I widened my eyes, and they could see that something was wrong. Are you okay? they asked, almost simultaneously. Oh my God ... oh my God! I stammered What? Mary asked. I go to DU! Denver University? Mary giggled. Oh, honey, youre in the wrong place. I see that now, I said, defeated. I let my eyes well up and spill over. Shit, I just spent almost all of my money getting here. Throwing her arm over my shoulder, Karen said, Hey, dont worry. Stay with us tonight and call your roommate in the morning and bitch her out.

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Are you sure? I asked, already drying my tears. Yeah, no problem. Its really late. And just like that, I had a place to stay for the night and didnt have to worry about my pants being tampered with. I had to hand it to myself, that was way too easy. We went upstairs and ate my sandwiches. I crashed on the third roommates bed with my bag behind my head. In the morning, I took a shower, packed up my stuff and acted like I was on my way back to my own school. We exchanged email addresses, but I had no intention of ever contacting them again. My thoughts didnt wander back to Michael until I was walking around campus trying to figure out what to do. I saw a boy who looked like him, and it jogged my memory. I felt a little guilty that I wasnt thinking about him more than I was. I guess I just wasnt worried; I knew hed be fine. It was amusing that the police thought he might have hurt me when I pretty much had him wrapped around my little finger. He was head over heels for me. I couldnt figure out what kind of evidence they could possibly have that would lead them to think I was hurt or dead. Obviously, it was a big mistake. I realized that I was lost when I passed the same bagel shop for the third time in an hour. Well, shit, I always have been bad with directions. There was no way I would try to walk to Utaline, thats for sure. I couldnt even find my way off campus. I decided to get some breakfast. After a bagel and coffee, I sat down in a crowded dining/lounge area with a horde of other people. I couldnt help but think that this would be a perfect place to hide out and that, with a little ingenuity, I could probably stay here indefinitely. No one on campus knows everyone; no matter how many friends you have, there are tons of strangers around all the time. I could completely blend in without talking to anyone. I felt like a super genius. Now all I had to do was figure out how to get out of Denver. I pulled out my maps and directions. I was thankful that Michael was so careful planning our trip because nothing was left to chance. I knew exactly where I was going. The problem was, I couldnt figure out how I was going to get transportation. Public transit was out of the question. I wasnt above stealing a car, but we sort of failed at the last attempt. I wasnt too keen on repeating all that effort for nothing. The idea I kept coming back to was hitchhiking. Sure, it could be dangerous, but you have to be able to read people and I can read people. The more I thought about it, the less crazy the idea sounded. Id just find some nice people headed southwest and get myself where I needed to go. My heart was pounding as I pored over the map. Excitement took hold as I began to solidify a plan. I had to memorize the route if I was going to be in the car with other people. Id need to know exactly when and where to get out and

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change direction. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. It was a worker wearing jeans and a bagel shop T-Shirt. He laughed at my reaction. Im glad he didnt find it too weird that he scared me so much. I was going to ask if you wanted some more coffee, but it looks like youve had enough, he joked. Yeah, wow, sorry about that. I laughed it off. Planning a road trip? he asked. Not really, just going home in a few days, I lied. Oh, of course. Thanksgiving, I see you are headed west. I saw a few ads for ride-alongs looking to go that way if you are interested in taking a passenger. Ride-alongs? I said. Yeah, car pool, you know? Share expenses, he said. Oh, I dont know, I said. My dad would probably get nervous, but it sounds really cool. Yeah, I can understand that, he said, winking at me. Just a thought. More coffee? No thanks, I said. I had to get going. That conversation changed everything. I needed to find a way to put up one of those ads. It was way better than trying to hitchhike. Even if I had to, you know, hitchhike or walk a little toward the end of the trip, it would still be much better. Probably safer, too. I wouldve been shocked to find anyone else going to tiny Utaline, but maybe somewhere nearby? I bet someone was at least going in my direction. I decided to make a sign and photocopy it. It was a simple but effective way of getting the word out. I left an email address so they could immediately contact me on the internet. I still couldnt believe how easy it was to run under the radar here. I was about the right age to be on a college campus, and I carried a backpack. Thats all anyone needed to know. I used the librarys computer lab to print my sign and borrowed tacks from other peoples posters to put mine up. They asked me for ID when I went to print out my signs, but I just told them Id lost it. They didnt even blink. I just had to pay for the paper. All over campus, there were designated sign-posting areas, and I put a flyer on just about all of them. While I was fastening one of the last few, I noticed a guy checking me out. He was reading the sign for a band that was looking for a lead guitarist. He ripped off a little tag with a phone number. Slipping it into his pocket, he turned toward me slowly, smiling. Where are you headed? He asked, his voice all sunshine and flowers. In

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spite of my love for Michael, his voice was very sexy. So sexy, in fact, that I was immediately nervous. Trying to keep the look on my face as cool as possible, I replied, To my sisters for Thanksgiving. Ah, he replied. Believe it or not, Im going your way. How do you know? I inquired, trying my best to sound coy. Shit, I wasnt married. I could stand to flirt a little; there was no shame in it. My new freedom in the hospital and on the road had loosened a lot of the strings that had bound my self-esteem. I found it easier to talk to people and much easier to have fun. Even in my worst days at home, I never realized how trapped and sad I was. Freedom was amazing. It made me think of Rosa Parks or even Harriet Tubman. Not that I could hold a candle to those brave souls or their trials and tribulations. I just felt I could identify with the end of oppression. Puzzled for a second, then amused, he smiled again. Tapping the poster a few times, he slowly read it aloud, Utaline, Colorado. He dragged the words out as if to imitate a southern drawl, or perhaps the voice of a country bumpkin. I smiled, but I didnt get the joke. I had no idea that the town I was headed to was so small. I realized I knew nothing about it at all. My family is from Grand Junction. Utaline is just a little farther, he said. Id be more than happy to drop you off. Im gonna leave Tuesday afternoon. Wow, this guy had a captivating smile. Normally, I would have been too intimidated to say yes. The fact that I needed to get there so badly, paired with his alluring nature, made me say yes immediately. I may have actually been a little too enthusiastic. Wow, your sister must be some cook, he said jokingly. I wasnt playing coy as well as I had hoped, and I think he could tell that I kinda liked him Yeah, she is actually, I replied. Its been ages since Ive seen her. She moved to Utaline a few years back, Im from New York. I came here for school to be closer to her. New York, nice! he said, extending me his hand and introducing himself as Brendon. Im I paused. I didnt know if I should give him my real name. Im Raven, I spat out. I continued, a little unsure of myself. Thats what everyone calls me, I said. I still dont know exactly what made me give him that name. It just flowed off my tongue like I had planned it. It was my grandmothers pet name for me when I was little, but no one had called me that since she died. Id loved ravens since fifth grade when my class performed a watered-down version of Edgar Allen Poes poem. Nevermore, adapted by our teacher, Mrs. Roberts,

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was a huge hit. In fact, I myself had played the bird, dressed to the nines in shiny black feathers and spandex. My grandmother had spent days crafting that costume. I could have played the Raven on broadway in that thing. I was a Raven for those few weeks while we practiced the play. I wore the costume around the house constantly, even before it was completely sewn together. Straight pins stuck me as I ran flapping my custom-made wings, practicing my only line, Nevermore. I suppose somehow the name suited me now just as well as it did then, what with my affinity for all things dark and scary. Give me a good vampire novel, and Im happy. Add a black leather corset, and Im over the moon! Bird or Devil? he asked. Just a girl and nothing more, I said as I winked at him. This was going to be a fun few days, after all. Before Michael, Id never really experimented with my sexuality. I figured I owed it to myself to play a little. Brendon could surely fill the time better than walking around this huge campus, getting lost and hoping to find a place to sleep. In fact, I told myself, he was a means to an end. I needed to hide out somewhere safe. This campus was the safest place I could think of. I needed a ride, and he was going my way. It was almost as if he was sent here by the universe to get me where I needed to go. I decided right then and there to do what I needed to do to keep myself safe and on track with our plan. It was almost too easy to decide to take advantage of the guy. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I asked. Clearly surprised that I beat him to the punch, he said, Sure. We went to a different coffee shop than the one from that morning and spent the rest of the afternoon chatting. He was a really nice guy who was on a scholarship, studying English literature. I had to laugh because he didnt look the type. I thought back to the poster for the rock band and started to understand why people always said they had so much fun in college. Its a time when you can do and be whatever you want. He went to the bathroom at one point on our little date, and I had to remind myself that this whole thing was a farce. I was having a ball sitting there chatting. Sure, everything coming out of my mouth was a lie. The reality was, I was getting so good at lying that I almost believed what I was saying, and he surely believed me. I had created yet another version of myself, and now I was running with it. I told him that my mother died in a car accident when I was seven. Since my father was abusive, my sister and I had been placed with a few different relatives before ending up with my grandmother who had recently died. He believed every

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word I said, and why wouldnt he? It was starting to get dark when we finally stood up to leave. Earlier, I had casually thrown into the conversation a little story about having a fight with my roommate. I was hoping to get myself somewhere to stay for the night. We were saying our goodbyes, and I cringed. He asked what was wrong and I said I was afraid of having another fight with my roomie. Being the gracious gentleman that he was, he offered me his floor for the night. I doubt he thought Id accept, but then again he had no idea that he was now soundly under my control. To say that I was drunk on power might be something of an overreaction, however I was headed in that direction. My head was getting bigger by the second. I had gotten it in my mind over the past few days that I was able to manipulate pretty much anyone into doing what I needed them to do. Starting with the girls downtown, everyone Id met in Denver was part of this new plot. Everywhere Id gone that day, Id flawlessly lied to the person I was talki ng to. I was floating on air. The scariest part was, even though I was doing all of this so I could get back to Michael, Id pushed him to the back of my mind for the time being. I knew that to play my current role Id have to think, act and feel like Raven, not Christina. Raven had lost her mother and lived with abuse and being passed around from household to household. A sad story indeed, but a very different one from the life of Christina. There were going to be a lot of differences, some subtle, some not so much so, in the behavior and mental stability of these two girls. I began to see that for right now, I was Raven. As we walked out of the coffee shop, I tucked Christina into my back pocket and prepared to forget about her until I got safely to Utaline.

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5. Stoke

The cops kind of reminded me of what you might see on a television detective show or a really bad movie. Good Cop, Bad Cop I think the show is called. It was intimidating in an amusing kind of way. The first one, a man, slammed his fist on the table and demanded respect from me. He would and could make the next few hours of my life very uncomfortable if I didnt comply with his interrogation. The second cop, a woman, took a less aggressive stance. She sat down across from me, also telling me it was time to talk. I couldnt wait for the charade to finally end. I was more than willing to fess up to taking the car. Look, Im sorry, I started, I made a bad decision, I know that. Im more than willing to talk. I want to clear this up right now. The cops exchanged glances across the table. They looked tentative, surprised. Until that point, Id felt like I was in the middle of some kind of joke or a punishment from my mother, so I wouldnt do anything like this again. But there was something about the look they exchanged that gave me a chill. I was taken aback. They were serious. Well, man, I feel like that is the right thing to do; Im glad to hear it, said the guy cop, whose name tag read M. Theodore. He was really young for a cop. He looked Johns age or even a little younger. There was a note of relief in his voice, the bad cop persona dropped for the time being. Why dont you tell us the whole story. I took the car, I said. I waited awhile, until I knew my mother wouldnt miss it, and then I took it. I had a key from when we still lived together. I needed to get out of town fast, and it was the easiest way. The female cop started to talk, but stopped herself. She wanted to see what else I was going to say. I lost my train of thought for a second when I saw her name: S. Twinkie it read. She was a petite woman, not all that old. Perhaps she was in her early 40s. She looked somewhat haggard, as if she smoked a lot of cigarettes. She probably did. It was the face of someone who had seen the worst of

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humanity. Shed been on the job long enough to know the evil people can do to each other. It was more than evident in the fine lines on her face. Her name made me laugh. Not so much because it reminded me of cheap-yet-delicious cellophane wrapped cake, but because of Angs best friend, Ryan. He was a proud gay man who liked to jokingly try to predict which kids might also turn out to be gay. It was a game they played all the time in public. So that other people didnt catch on, theyd use innuendo when they saw a kid that might fit the bill. I could still hear his voice in my head as we walked through the mall or around the zoo. Hed gesture at a baby in a stroller, or a kid on a bike or something, and nudge my aunt, whispering twinkie. It always made me laugh. I couldnt help but laugh a little now, even though I was in a really tight spot at the moment. Okay, what happened next? blurted M. Theodore as I giggled into my hand. I hoped theyd think I was coughing, but it didnt work. I composed myself quickly, wondering to myself if she was, in fact, a twinkie. I could see they didnt like me laughing. Her face hardened as soon as he opened his mouth; she had wanted me to keep going, uninterrupted. Sensing that hed done something wrong, he trailed off a bit at the end of the sentence. I saw him glance furtively toward the two-way mirror and nod. The look in his eyes told me to be wary. Now I knew there had to be something missing from the story. The emotion I was sure I saw in his eyes as he looked at whomever was on the other side of that mirror was fear. He was scared. Even for a rookie, that seemed odd. Something just didnt add up. I paused to process this information and decided that Id seen enough TV docudramas to know that I should wait for my lawyer. I didnt want to appear like I had something to hide, but my instinct screamed for me to wait. My uncle is coming soon, I said, unsure how to proceed. I think I should wait and talk to him first. Hes my lawyer. S. Twinkie slammed her hand down hard on the table. I jumped. Giving her partner a look of reproach, her mouth twitched and she spat out that they would gladly honor that request. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the door opened and two guards came in and recuffed me. Walking in leg irons was trickier than I would have imagined, but I had other things on my mind. I didnt know what the hell was going on. They put me in a small holding cell, and I was glad to be by myself. I sat on the bench-like cot and leaned against the wall. At least they didnt leave me in there restrained, it was uncomfortable and I already had bruises forming around my wrists and ankles. Scared as I was, I must have fallen asleep not too long after they put me in there, because I dont remember much about the rest of the night. I reclined as

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best I could on the dirty little bench, and the next thing I knew I was being awakenened by the sound of my cell sliding open. I was stiff from sleeping at a 45-degree angle with the wall, and my neck was sore from lolling over to the side, unmoved for hours. I glanced in the mirror above the basin, covered in Plexiglas. I had bags under my eyes. I hoped that I could get out of there soon and take a shower. The guard fastened my leg irons and gestured toward the toilet in the middle of the cell. If you gotta go, I suggest you do it now, he said. Here? I asked, incredulous. Better get used to it. His response seemed a little dark to me, considering the fact that I was sure my uncle would have everything straightened out in a matter of minutes once he got there. His laughter made it a little hard for me to go. I didnt want to unzip my pants in front of this guy, much less piss right in front of him. The setting was nowhere near private. People men and women were walking by the cell at regular intervals. I stood there for probably 20 seconds before I could make myself get started. Hurry up, kid, your lawyer is waiting for you, the guard said. Embarrassed or not, that last bit of info helped me a lot. I peed as fast as I could, exposing myself as little as possible, and washed my hands. The guard led me to a small room where my uncle was waiting for me. He looked anxious through the small window in the door. When he saw me, he seemed to relax a little. The guard took off the cuffs and left us alone. My uncle motioned for me to be quiet until the door was shut behind him. Michael! He exclaimed. Uncle Anthony, what the fuck? I didnt know how to continue, or what to say. What is going on here? Why are they making such a big deal out of this? I said. He looked surprised. Before we get started, I want you to know that Im here to help you, Michael, but Im no miracle worker, he said. I want you to tell me everything, whatever you say to me stays with me. Its called attorney-client privilege ... I cut him off. I know, Unc, I just, I just dont understand, I said. I was grasping at straws. I was beginning to realize how tired I truly was because my words werent coming out right. Tell me exactly what happened, start to finish, dont leave out anything at all, he said. I have to know exactly what happened if Im going to defend you against these charges. Why cant she just drop all this and let me get on with my life? I asked. I

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swear Ive learned my lesson, Ill never even ask her to use the fucking car again, I said, gesturing to my bruised wrists. These are serious charges, kid. Stealing your mothers car is the least of your worries right now, he said. Dont worry, your mother isnt mad at you. Right now, were all just worried. Very, very worried. Serious charges. The words repeated in my mind. What the hell was going on here? Anthony saw the puzzled look on my face, and now I could see that he, too, was confused. Do you know what you were arrested for? Did they read you the charges? he asked. No. Well, maybe they did. I was scared," I said. He pulled a piece of paper out of his briefcase and read from it. Murder in the first degree, kidnapping There was more. He was still talking, but I was reeling once the first word left his mouth. Murder. The word hit me like Id been slapped. Who the hell did they think I murdered? My mouth was dry, and my heart was racing. In spite of myself, I felt tears in my eyes and in that moment, my thoughts drifted to my girl, my Christina. I wondered if she was okay. I had been fretful about her safety, but now that it looked like I might be detained a little longer than I expected, I was all the more concerned. I hoped she had found somewhere safe to spend the night. My uncle grabbed my shoulder and shook me. He had been talking for awhile before he realized I had zoned out and wasnt listening. Who do they think I hurt? I asked. Christina Taylor, he said. Judging by the way he looked at me just then, I knew he believed I had done it. When he saw my confusion and pain, I think it occurred to him that maybe I hadnt. Shes my girlfriend, I told him. Id never hurt her. Shes here, in the city, waiting for me. She isnt dead! I paused, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. The last time I saw her was last night, at the sandwich shop, right in front of the spot where they arrested me, I said. Why the hell did they think she was dead? Michael, they have a decent amount of evidence, he said. How can you explain the bloody knife and blanket investigators found in your room? Thats my blood, and its old, I said. I was ashamed to tell him the story of my suicide attempt, but it was the only way to clear things up at this point. I was surprised that the blanket had somehow made it from my mothers house to mine,

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but John must have just cleared everything out without looking at it. I explained how Christina had, in fact, saved my life, and that we were running away together. I told him about the internet conversations, her mother and her brave escape from home to meet me in the park. I relayed every detail that came to mind, rapidly and nervously. I told him that it was sheer luck that she wasnt in the car when I was arrested. I detailed our whereabouts from our departure in Buffalo to our arrival here in Denver. Anthony took detailed notes, and when I was done talking he smiled and patted me on the cheek. He told me to sit tight while he presented my side of the story, and he was gone for what seemed like ages. When he returned, he looked a little less than excited. They doubt your story, of course, he said. They are going to mount a search for her here in the city. But Michael, they think were stalling. They dont believe us. Right now all the evidence is on their side. Tell them to check the blanket and the knife, I said. Its my blood so it must have my DNA all over it. Tell them to test it, its my blood, Anthony, I swear to you! I believe you, kid, he said. Ive known you since the day you were born, and I believe you. He touched my shoulder in a fatherly manner. I gotta tell ya, though, before I talked with you this morning, I assumed you did it. But dont worry, if that really is your blood on the blanket and the weapon, this should work out okay. It is, I said again. Theyre going to put out an APB, an all-points-bulletin, for your girlfriend. Im sure theyll find her roaming around the city somewhere, he said. Im afraid that if they dont find her by this afternoon, you are going to face extradition to Buffalo. Extradition. I didnt like the sound of that word, and I sincerely hoped they would find her before things got even more out of hand. I spent the rest of the morning hashing out the story with Anthony. He teased me that only I could get in so much trouble for doing nothing. I was in good spirits because I knew I was in good hands. Afternoon rolled around, and the same guard that watched me piss came into the room to put the cuffs back on. They still hadnt found Christina so I was going to have to face the judge in Buffalo after all. Leaving the station and flying home went pretty smoothly. Uncle Anthony and a Colorado State Police officer accompanied me on the flight, and while the leg irons remained in place, I was free to use my hands so it was relatively comfortable. It was a pretty long flight, and I took the opportunity

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to nap and think about my girl. I hoped for both our sakes that she would be found quickly. It made me sick to my stomach to think of her alone. There were police cruisers waiting on the tarmac at the Buffalo-Niagara International Airport. Anthony stiffened a little and murmured that they still must not have found her. It was around 11 p.m. in Buffalo when we landed, which meant shed been missing for an entire day. My stomach was in knots, not because of my situation but because of hers. We waited until all the other passengers had exited the plane and then we walked down the stairway to the waiting officers. Anthony wasnt permitted in the police cars, so he said he would meet me at the station. From the first moment I was in custody in New York, I felt a big shift in attitude. In Denver, the police were apathetic, but these guys seemed to really hate me. I was handled more roughly, and it made me nervous. They brought me to the holding center downtown, and once again I was placed in a small, solitary cell. I assumed Id be there until morning, but around midnight they rousted me from my light sleep. The demeanor of those Buffalo cops made me a little less sure of myself. I could sleep the night before because I had assumed Id be home by now. Spending another night in jail didnt feel good at all. Before I nodded off, all I could think of was Christina. My dreams were fleeting and mostly about her wandering the streets like we had done a few nights before. I worried that they hadnt found her because something bad had happened. I couldnt envision my life without her. I felt like we had already come so far. Id never before let anyone in like I had let her in. I had never trusted anyone with my private thoughts, but she made it easy. I couldnt wait to see her again. The officer who woke me shoved me into the chair in an interrogation room, in front of Anthony. The look on Anthonys face told me something wasnt right. He seemed worried, and it was obvious that he was tired. The officer left. Michael, they havent found a trace of your girlfriend in Denver, he said. Do you think something happened to her? I said, afraid to even think about that. It would have been too much. I dont know, son, but this isnt looking very good. If there is anything else you would like to tell me, or to add to the story, now is the time. The detectives are on their way in to question you right now, and its almost 1 a.m. so this is obviously a priority case for them. I told you everything Ant, really, I said. I didnt hurt her. I could never do that. I still believe you, nothing has changed, but we need to find her quickly or things could get pretty ugly, he said.

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Maybe we could find someone from one of the hotels we stayed in, someone who remembers seeing her, I offered. Not a bad idea, Michael, he said, shoving a legal pad across the table. Write down your itinerary, every stop you made, and dont leave anything out. Christina has the maps and receipts for everything, I said. If you can get me a copy of our plans from my computer, I can probably remember exactly where we went. The police confiscated your computer and most of the contents of your bedroom, he said. For now, just try to remember everything you can. I wrote down what I could. I came up with some names of towns, hotels and stores we visited and passed it back. I started thinking about how pissed I was about my computer. I had a lot of private stuff on there. I didnt even want to think about them looking at all the pictures I had stored. I had boobie and nude shots from hundreds of girls one or two new ones every night. I was so worried about them finding those pictures that I almost forgot a very important detail. If they had the computer, then they knew about Crystal. Once Christina showed up there, they were sure to be watching and everything would be set straight. I mentioned that to my uncle, but I didnt get the reaction I was hoping for. Mike, your friend is in jail, too, for aiding and abetting a fugitive, he said. I think thats when the full weight of the situation hit me. The idea of getting someone else in trouble really freaked me out. I was instantly guilty. Crystal was a really good friend, she was a little older than me and had a kid. She was always a very responsible person, which is why I trusted her to help me in the first place. I couldnt believe Id gotten her in trouble. And then it hit me: Her kid! Who was taking care of her kid while she was in jail? Crystal had complained many times about her sons shitty father, her ex-boyfriend. I didnt know much about her family, but I hoped she had someone to look after him. Anthony saw me getting anxious. I had tears in my eyes thinking about her kid. I started to explain when the detectives knocked and came into the room. Before they even sat down or introduced themselves, I was talking about Crystal. Crystal had nothing to do with any of this, I said. She needs to get home to her kid. She was just going to let us stay with her a few nights. Anthony gave me a reproachful look and kicked me hard under the table. Quiet, he murmured. I knew I shouldnt have said anything, but I couldnt help it. If I had been thinking of anything else when they walked in, I would have been able to keep my cool. My tensions from the previous few days had finally

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come to a head. I stood up and slammed my fist on the table when they barely acknowledged me. My temper was always my worst enemy. I demand that you let her go, I said. Anthony practically wrestled me to the chair. The first detective looked amused; the second looked irritated. They sat across from us, and the first one was rifling through a file folder, looking for something. When he found it, he passed a copy marked Evidence with a big red stamp across the table to Anthony. It was a conversation Id had with Crystal about coming to stay with her. Crysta81: Sorry, this is better, I dont want him to hear me talk about this stuff. gamer14213: yea no prob, I understand. Crystal81: so you are going to take care of things there and make a run for it? gamer14213: yea i figure i can leave in like one or two days tops so, be there soon Crystal81: Alright kid be careful. Ill be waiting for ya, you can hide out here as long as you need to. I read the conversation twice. I remembered it well. We had been on the phone talking about how Christinas mother abused her and how we needed to get her to a safe place. Crystals son was watching television nearby and she asked me if we could move the conversation online so he didnt hear us. I didnt think the little conversation they had was all that incriminating to either of us, but I had to admit, it could be taken two ways. I tried to explain that we didnt want her son to overhear us talking about child abuse, but they werent buying it. They passed a few more sheets to Anthony, and what I saw made my stomach drop. Crystal was someone I could talk to when I was mad. I met her on a message board for an online role-playing game we both liked. Im not sure how it went from show me your boobs to becoming real friends. Maybe its because shes a lot older than me and refused to send pictures of herself, but somehow we ended up talking quite often. I wasnt as close to her as I was to Christina, of course, but I had confided in her a few times when I was really upset. gamer14213: oooh im so fucking pissed off rite now!! Crystal81: aw why hun? gamer 14213: Fred... I going to fucking kill him, I got a hunting knife in my hand... im gonna do it. I can already see his blood on the fuckin kitchen floor. i

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can hear my mom screaming... i hate him Crystal81: did u 2 fight again? gamer14213: i got a black eye. i gotta teach him a lesson. ill brb Crystal81: mike dont... its not worth it gamer14213: blood for blood, he aint gonna do this to me again Crystal81: u dont deserve to be treated like shit but u need to try to calm down gamer14213: fuck that Crystal81: hey im just tring to help gamer14213: the only thing that will help is his blood on my hands And then another exchange later gamer14213: Oh im exhausted Crystal81: lol y gamer14213: been on the run all day long, ppl chasing me Crystal81: oh jesus... what did u do now? gamer14213: haha u always think its my fault Crystal81: aw im sorry, what happened gamer14213: some guy got mouthy with me in the park. Crystal81: oh god, i feel a good story coming on... gamer14213: damn straight. I was walking through the park, trying to get to know the place, learn it from every angle Crystal81: ok... gamer14213: i got a lot of time on my hands. anyways they saw me walk by a few times on different paths and shit. i noticed em watching me. It annoyed me but I was busy so i let it go. like the third time i passed by, one of em yells over and asks me if im lost. I said no. he said he said Transylvania is that way and pointed to the road. all four of em cracked the fuck up. i lost it. Crystal81: what do u mean lost it.. what happened gamer14213: they were like 20 yds away. I ran over there so fast, they were shocked. u shoulda seen their faces. I had my taser with me. one of em stepped to me right away. I already had it in my hand and I tased dude right in the balls. he fell down. the next one tried to hit me in the face, he connected but only once. I got him too, right in the sac and he hit the deck. I was holding the gun so you couldnt rele see it... so they didnt kno what was coming, just that i hit the other guy... the third one didnt rele put up much of a fight at all i beat the living shit out of his face. the fourth guy was trying to help-- i looked up at him with a sick grin on my face, punched his friend one more time and turned to him... fucker ran like hell. I gave him a tiny head start so I could kick the first guy in the head a few times but i caught him. i knocked him to the grass from behind let him turn over

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sho him the taser and buzz the shit out of him. should have seen the look in his eyes. dude was fucking terrified. i loved every second of it. mother fuckers messed with the wrong dude today. Crystal81: Holy shit michael... i cant believe you did that... what.. what if u really hurt someone.. i dont think electricity is too good for the balls. i kno u were mad but.. gamer14213: good i hope theyre impotent now. fuck them. shouldnt have laughed at me. i hope i see the third one again so i can fry his balls too... Crystal81: u got issues kid lol gamer14213: lol i kno Crystal81: im sry they laughed at u gamer14213: and now they are 2 Crystal81: u kno what I mean gamer14213: yea... ty. i took care of it Taken out of context, these chats made me seem a little psycho. I think Crystal knew that I usually twisted the stories I told her to make me sound better. We had some good talks, online and on the phone. She knew that I was usually just venting. Yeah, I got in fights, sure, but I wasnt the heartless person I made myself out to be. I could never actually hurt anyone as badly in real life as I wanted to in my fantasies. I dont know why, blame it on my messed up childhood I guess. Exaggerating made me feel better, more in control. Take the conversation about the guys in the park for instance. I blew that way out of proportion. I didnt have a taser, although I wished I did. I did drop the first two guys like it was nothing. I was so angry and strong that they didnt have a chance, but the third guy got some real good licks in. He messed my face up good. There was no fourth guy. I invented him because it made me feel better about the condition of my face. There were more exaggerated stories, but they were all basically the same thing: me confessing to having fight after fight with strangers and friends. In each one, I played the role of a mastermind villain, taking down anyone who got in my way and always without regard for anyone. If real life worked like that, I probably wouldnt be so angry in the first place. Nothing ever went my way or turned out in my favor, including fist fights. Yeah, I had a lot of them, and to be honest I went into most of them hoping for a beat down. I was usually feeling so lousy that physical pain was more appealing than the mental stuff I was going through and I felt I needed punishment. If I picked on one guy, my personality and looks might be enough to keep him from unleashing on me. I rarely wore

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anything but black, and my aura was imposing to say the least. But if I picked a fight with two or three guys, well, then Id be sure to end up bleeding. After all was said and done, that was what I wanted. Pain, blood, maybe even a broken bone or two. It could take my mind off anything for a little while. I had gotten into so many fights after Ang died that for a while I was continually covered in bruises. Even when my mother was doing the right thing for a little while, it wasnt enough to make me feel safe or whole. When Fred came back and she returned to her old drunk self, I let some guy beat me nearly to death. I wandered around looking for someone to set off. I found a huge guy and I just kept running my mouth until he hit me. I didnt even hit him back. I just kept talking, laying on the insults so he would keep pummeling me. I was almost unconscious when his friend finally pulled him off me. I wished like hell he would have just killed me. Anthony was still reading the papers the deputies had given him, and my mind was racing. How much of this was I willing to reveal to prove my innocence? And even if I told them, would they believe me? I knew the sorts of things I had told Crystal. I folded and refolded my hands. I was sweating my ass off and they knew it. They still hadnt said anything; they just let us read their evidence against me. When Ant laid down the last sheet of paper, they shifted some stuff around and brought out a big packet fastened with one of those black paper clamps. I wondered what it was. I looked from one cop to the other, gauging the looks on their faces. This was something big, I just knew it. They were a hair away from smiling. What else could they possibly have? They handed over the packet, and I nearly blacked out when I saw the second cop pull my personal journal out from under the table. There were sticky notes poking out of it, sectioning off little intervals of my thoughts. If my chats with Crystal made me look like a questionable human being, that notebook would make me look guiltier than painting a swastika on my forehead and calling myself Charlie. My journal was the only place I let my feelings flow completely free. Every angry or paranoid thought that had ever come into my mind could potentially be in that notebook. Every broken heart Id ever had could be laid out, along with every insecurity, every bad thought and every angry, violent fantasy. My life was one big, bad thought, a huge, angry fantasy with bits of reality thrown in that were so sad and traumatic youd think there was no way any normal person could think these thoughts or live this life. Before they said a word, I knew that if they didnt find Christina soon I was going to be charged with murder. That journal, I knew, made me look like a sick, sad, sorry, sadistic son of a bitch. How ironic I thought, Christina is the only person Ive ever loved and they think I hurt her.

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As soon as the pile of paper was in Ants hands, the detective flipped to the first marked section. He began to read aloud and a bead of cold sweat trickled down the center of my back. He was a rather large black guy with a voice that could intimidate almost anyone. His timbre reminded me of a reverend or a preacher talking to his congregation about hell. His intonation made the passage he read more fierce than even I had intended when I wrote it. I had to wonder if the guy had done any acting because his reading performance was giving me fucking chills: People are shit to me. I walk down the street every day wondering what they look like on the inside. Id like to peel back their skin to see their weak pink hearts flutter to a stop. I wonder how long it would beat with their guts dumped out on the ground. I hate him. Id like to tower over him while he lays in a pool of blood that gets bigger every time I swing my knife. Id douse them all with gasoline and set them ablaze. Their screams of pain would tickle me, make me warm all over. Theyd beg for mercy and receive none. Id dance around their smoldering lumps of ashes, and piss to put out the last of the flames. I looked into my own eyes, my own heart and saw only blackness. That mirror reminded me of what others see, the monster inside who thirsts for blood and pain, who seeks out suffering in huge doses and is never satisfied. He continued reading. I want to bind her, lay her down, and slowly torture her. First Id roughly cut off all her hair, then Id strip her naked and make long, slow, shallow slices all over her body so she could bleed for me like I bleed for her. If she cried out Id stuff her mouth with a sock and keep going. Then Id touch her in all the places she wished I wouldnt. When I was sure she felt violated, Id drag her into the bathtub, fill it with ice cold water, turn on her hair dryer and toss it in. I wouldnt even look away as she fried. Everyone thinks Im a fake, a front, a loser. Ill show them, Ill take away one of their pretty little girl friends and then see whos laughing. Sometimes I feel so wide open and raw that I forget other people dont have thoughts like this, much less write them down. How crazy these thoughts sound to other people Im not sure, but hearing him read them aloud was almost more than I could stand. I heard on one of those silly psychology TV talk shows that sometimes

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people write in a journal to clear their heads. I figured Id get one and see if I could get my bad thoughts out. It didnt make anything go away, but it did dull it a little. The stories and stuff in that notebook were like my ever-present wounds after beatings from my mother. They were anger, like a burning that doesnt go away quickly. I poured my feelings into that journal when my heart was black or breaking. I wrote some nice things in there, too, but of course that wasnt what he chose to read. The bad stuff, honestly, isnt a state of mind Im proud of, but my thoughts can get very dark when I hurt. Id never meant for anyone to ever read that book. I was awash in anger, fear, frustration and most of all embarrassment. If I felt like a raving lunatic, wasnt my journal the healthy place for me to drop it all off? Its not like Id ever acted on any of those evil little fantasies. How could it be that I was sitting here in the police station, facing this scary-ass cop, reading me and my uncle a diatribe of my most private thoughts? Suddenly it hit me that they thought I had acted on those fantasies and that I had hurt Christina the way I described hurting my mother. Some of the blurbs were about other people, but most of my anger was focused on my mom. When I was still in school, I wrote about the other kids picking on me or pissing me off, but Id been out of school a long time. My uncle sat very still while the detective spoke. I think he was a little mesmerized by the double-whammy of the reading material itself and the gravity with which the cop presented it. He stared, unblinking, at the man, neither commenting nor protesting. I stopped listening to what he read and went inside my head for a few moments. I tried to tell myself that I had done nothing wrong. All I needed to do was explain myself, find Christina, and get on with my life. But that was a lot easier said than done. Anthonys trance was broken when officer Adhan Seamus finally sat down. He was about to read something else but Ant spoke, cutting off the detective before he could say anything more. My client stands by his innocence in this matter. I have discussed this with you at length already this evening. The girl is not dead, she is missing, he said. Yes, weve heard your story, said the second cop, finally speaking. His name was Thaddis Craig. He was a slight guy, but if you looked closer you could see his small frame was solid muscle, imposing in its own right. He looked like he could be a powerful enforcer if necessary. Of the two, he was less scary, but I still didnt want to cross him. Its not a story, I exclaimed, my tone little more on edge than I would have liked. Ant kicked me again but I didnt shut up. You have to find her, she is all alone in Denver. Shes please find her, I trailed off. I didnt know what else to say. Just please find her.

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They have yet to find a trace of that girl in Denver, boy, Seamus boomed at me. Nor does anyone remember seeing her along the route you said you took out west. Why dont we stop with all the please find her bullshit and cut to the chase. Where is the girl? Where is Christinas body? She isnt dead, I said, trying to keep my voice calm and free of the fear and anger that were rising in me. I dont know if it worked. I could see my eyes flashing in the two-way mirror in front of me. Ant was giving me a look that told me I should shut up and, when I didnt, he chimed in. Im going to advise my client against saying anything else at this point, he said. No, I said, the longer we sit here without saying anything, the longer she is out on the street alone. He can stand there and read me that whole notebook if he wants to, it isnt going to change anything. I didnt hurt her. I love her. This is ridiculous. Ridiculous? Seamus boomed, shaking the walls. No, ridiculous is you thinking that you can take over this interrogation so I would advise you to listen to the recommendation of your lawyer. I set my jaw, looked Detective Jackson in the eye and told him to ask me anything he liked. Technically, Ant couldnt force me to shut up, so he agreed to more questioning. They wanted an exact timeline of our drive from Buffalo to Denver. I repeated as closely as possible the same story Id told the day before. I knew theyd be looking for inconsistencies but there wouldnt be any. Shoving the notebook at me, pointing to a paragraph we had already gone over, Jackson asked me to tell him about cutting her hair. He let it roll off his tongue so nonchalantly, that had I been lying, it might have caught me off guard. The Buffalo cops were really taking this notebook stuff seriously, and they still thought I was guilty. I told them in Denver she cut her own hair to change her look. That notebook is my journal, not my plans to murder my girlfriend. Ive been writing in there for years, way before I ever met Christina, I said. "And besides, we cut her hair in Denver, I thought I killed her in Buffalo." Maybe you were looking for the right girl to take away? Jackson said, referring to one of the passages. If I was piecing things together correctly, they believed I had always wanted to kill someone and had been looking forward to it for years. My journal is just dark fantasies and bad thoughts, I said. Why would I let myself fall in love with her if I was going to kill her? It made no sense. So you admit you have fantasies about killing women? Jackson asked.

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No! I screamed. You just told us this was a book of fantasies, he said. They were twisting my words all around, trying to confuse me. It was hard to keep up with them. Maybe she turned out to be a little different than advertised? This time it was Seamus talking. Maybe she didnt live up to your expectations? She was better than I could ever have imagined, I said, fighting off the urge to get choked up. My throat went dry, thinking about the first time I saw her. She quite literally bowled me over. Not only was she more than I had hoped for, but more than I felt I deserved. I think the detectives were getting frustrated with their inability to crack me. They took a five-minute break and came back with coffee for Ant and a soda for me. It was good to have something to drink after all that talking. My voice was getting tired. I was so sick of repeating myself. I was surprised at the gesture they made with the soda because I knew they hated me, but they got back to business with the same intensity as before. Okay, when did you decide to spring her from the psych ward? Seamus posed the question with a smug look on his face. Psych ward? I thought aloud, She wasnt in any psych ward. She lived with her mother. Sure she did, up until a few months ago. But by the time you met her she was in the hospital. He tapped one of the folders on the table in front of him. I knew they were trying to crack me, but I couldnt understand the angle they were using. She never went to the hospital during the time that I knew her. Or, if she had, she didnt mention it. I could see that they were trying to gauge my response. I had to admit, this was a curve ball; I hadnt expected them to just make shit up to confuse me. Christina wasnt in the hospital, I said confidently, although my guard was up in full force. She was in there the first time you spoke to her online. Are you telling us she didnt tell you anything about it? Seamus handed me a copy of some intake paperwork from Brylene Hospital indicating Christina had been there for weeks, since about the time I met her. I knew they had to have read all of our correspondence by then so they knew she hadnt told me. They were just trying to shake me up. I wasnt going to let them coax out my angry side. I took a moment to try to digest what they were telling me. I turned to Anthony and he nodded slightly to confirm. He whispered in my ear that he had no idea I hadnt known that part of the story. When I talked to him about our escape, I meant the

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escape from her mom, not a hospital. I stared at the paperwork on the table and rewound all our conversations in my mind. When I noticed Christinas picture in the upper corner of the file in front of us, it tugged at my heart. I missed her so much. I wondered how, or why, she had never once let on that she was institutionalized? It was apparent she had lied to me outright on numerous occasions. She told me her mother hit her, that she had been raped. I wondered if any of it was true. Was she in the hospital the whole time we were getting to know each other? Why didnt she tell me that? Did she think she couldnt trust me, that Id leave her? I could understand her being embarrassed to tell me in the beginning, but we got so close. How could she not tell me? Was she just playing on my sympathy with those stories? Was she lying about everything? Did she really love me? No wonder she had refused to call or see me that whole time! She couldnt, she was locked up! I always knew it was a little odd that she could never use a phone, never sneak a minute alone to see me. But I trusted her, so I didnt think about it that much. Home-schooled my ass, she was in the psych ward! I was so wrapped up in her that I would have believed anything she said. I felt wounded and confused. I didnt have time to think about it for very long because I was being interrogated, but the reality hit me hard. I tried to force it out of my mind; I loved her so much that I was looking for an answer that would make her innocent. I didnt want to be mad at her. I didnt want all of this to turn out to be a lie. If she couldnt tell me the truth online, I could almost understand, but how could she lie to my face? We had plenty of time. She could have said something that first night in my bedroom or while we were on the road. How the fuck did she keep this from me and why? I felt like Id been kicked in the teeth. My heart was racing and my mind was an absolute blur. Was she just using me this whole time, manipulating me into loving her with lies about being scared and hurt? My head was spinning. I was nauseous. It suddenly made sense why she was so afraid of being noticed or recognized. She knew she had escaped from the fucking psych ward and theyd be looking for her! She was playing me the whole time! When I thought back to her irrational fear of getting caught, I realized that she was intentionally keeping this part of the story from me. No wonder she cut her hair! No wonder she was so keen on getting out of there when she saw that I had gotten pulled over! She didnt even look back as she turned the corner. She wasnt running from her mother, she was running from the cops! I felt so used. I still would have helped her if I knew where she was. I loved her almost from the first time we talked. I would have

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busted her out of there if shed asked me. But why didnt she ask me? The prospect of her love for me being anything less than genuine made me feel so empty. If she didnt really care about me, I might as well go to jail. If she didnt want me, I didnt care about anything. I didnt realize I was crying until Ant put his hand on my shoulder. The cops looked bewildered. I got control of myself but it took a minute. It seemed as if my reaction had somehow shocked them. I think they expected me to get mad, but at that moment I didnt have it in me. It dawned on me that this was the missing piece of the puzzle: They thought I was a murderer waiting to strike, but I couldnt figure out why they thought I had hurt her. They figured she told me about being an escapee from the psych ward so I flipped out and killed her. But she didnt tell me anything about that, and I was shocked and hurt. I knew they could tell my tears were real and it threw them for a loop, but they kept questioning me. They still didnt believe me. We had been in the interrogation room for a few hours when they dropped that tidbit. I was already tired, but the emotional nature of that revelation made it all that much harder to sit and focus. They could see I was getting punchy and kept asking me tons of questions, rapid fire, to confuse me. They worked so hard to crack me, make me angry, or force me to slip up on a detail somewhere. I stuck to my guns, insisting that they had to find her, that Id never hurt her. It went on and on. When I was finally so tired that I felt a little drunk, I just stopped talking and stared at them across the table. I figured they would eventually let me go back to my cell and rest. I needed to think. I needed to be alone. It worked, and they let me go back to the cell. As sick to my stomach as I was about her lying, I immediately fell asleep on the hard, thin mattress. I was freezing, and the pillow smelled of someone elses cologne and mildew. My mind needed a break that only sleep can bring, so that was that. I passed out more than fell asleep. I wish I could say I had some rest, but it was fitful. I had terrible dreams and awoke with a start more than once. I kept seeing her disappear around the corner without looking back. In one of the dreams, I called out to her and she ran away. It was awful. After a couple of hours tossing and turning, I laid awake in the semi-darkness. I could tell it was almost morning. There was a low buzz of workers coming and going, and there seemed to be more activity than there was before I fell asleep. I tried not to think about Christina because all that wondering tore at my heart. I thought worrying about her safety was hard, but questioning her love for me fueled feelings of anxiety and self-loathing that reached the very depths of my soul. My fears got the better of me. My emotions were cresting and falling like

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waves. One moment I was sure I had been duped, and the next I told myself I had to believe there was an explanation. I started to feel stupid that I had allowed myself to feel loved by her, but by the same token I wasnt willing to let go of this dream. At least not before I had a chance to talk to her about it. After my few hours of sleep, questioning continued in the same manner as the night before. I was mentally exhausted. Since I was telling the truth, it was relatively easy to stick to my story. I just told them what I remembered. I cant imagine how anyone could lie and get past these two because they asked every question from every angle. There was zero wiggle room. It turns out there was no trace of Christina anywhere in Denver. The police couldnt find her and neither could my mother. I had to hand it to my mom. She was often a poor example of a parent, but during that time she came through for me. She flew to Denver and talked to people around the area where I last saw Christina. She also put up posters asking anyone who may have seen her to get in touch. It was the best we could do. Unable to stump me or get me to admit to anything, I was returned to my cell in the early evening. I ate a little bit of questionable food for dinner and laid down to stare into the abyss opening up in front of me. Strangely, my mind still disquieted, I slept deeply for what seemed like hours. When I woke up, the building was still bright and there were lots of people moving around. It wasnt even lights-out time yet, but I felt fully rested. I got up and stretched. I didnt have much room to walk around, so I paced back and forth for a little while. I was restless. I couldnt imagine having to be in a place like this for years and years. I would lose it. I told myself there was no chance I would end up doing time, but deep down I knew I was kidding myself. Anything could happen. What if they didnt find her? What if she had just used me as her ticket out? If they didn't find her, she wouldn't ever have to come back. It was odd being alone in here. I could hear other people but I couldnt see anyone. I had passed by some traditional-style cells full of other prisoners on my way to this little section of the holding center. Im not sure if it was my age, or the nature of the crime they charged me with, but for whatever reason I was in isolation. Instead of a cell with bars, it was like a room with a steel door. There was a small, barred window so that they could see inside without opening the door. I was glad to have that little casement, I would have been a lot more panicky in there all alone if I couldnt hear what was going on, even faintly, throughout the rest of the building. After maybe an hour, the lights-out call came over a loudspeaker. With an entire night on my hands to think, I laid back down and closed my eyes. I heard the click, click, click of lights all around me shutting

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off. When I opened my eyes again a few minutes later, I was awash in darkness. I wasnt afraid exactly, but I didnt like the feeling it gave me. I kept my thoughts at bay for as long as possible and then started thinking about Christinas hospital stay. When the thoughts creeping up were too strong to ignore, I started to cry again. I curled up, facing the wall, and put my arm over the back of my head. Shoving my face deep into that nasty pillow, I sobbed. I wasnt even ashamed. I was so stressed at that point that I couldnt have stopped the tears if I wanted to. I tried not to think about breaking down earlier in front of everyone. Now that was embarrassing. I was dumbstruck over how much Christina touched my heart in such a short time. Id known the girl less than two months, but after a couple of days I think I would have died for her without a second thought. I loved her almost immediately, sight unseen. Thats what allowed me to think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay. This relationship was magic from the start, and I had to keep believing things would work out. This would be a funny story to tell our grandchildren in the future, I thought, Grampa in jail and Gramma missing. Maybe I was going nuts, but I refused to lose hope. I turned it over and over in my mind. I came to the conclusion that she had been either too scared to tell me or she was using me to help her get away. If she was using me, she deserved an Academy Award for her acting performance. Then again, she had already proved that she was a good liar. I decided to trust her until I had reason to do otherwise. First of all, once the charges were dropped, I had to return to Colorado to find Christina, no matter what it took. I needed to ask what the hell was going on. I really believed she was the love of my life, and I was willing to listen to her. I couldnt forget about her without an explanation. Nobody else would have had that chance. I would drop them like they were nothing and swear revenge. If even half of the stuff she told me was true, I knew I would forgive her. Sure, shed have to fight a little to win back my trust, but my love for her could never falter. Shit, I wouldnt admit it, but Id already forgiven her. I knew she would have a good reason for not telling me. Maybe I was deluding myself, but that was the only way I could cope. If I found her and she didnt really love me, Id fight for her, win her over, make her understand. I didnt want to think of this lying as anything but a big misunderstanding. It had to be; there had to be an explanation. She must have been scared, and it hurt so much that she didnt dare tell me she was in trouble. On the morning of what turned out to be my last day in jail, things came together rather quickly. After a seriously fucked up few days, it looked like

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everything was going to come out alright. The DNA tests on the blanket and knife were complete. It was, in fact, my blood. The cops were obviously shocked. As for me, I still couldnt imagine why the nasty old thing had ended up at Johns house in the first place. I knew they would eventually figure out that I was telling the truth. I was relieved to look across the table at the same detectives who sat there the night before and see a bit of humility. They still wanted to think I was guilty, but with a huge hole in their evidence they had to consider other options. They told me there had been some activity on Christinas e-mail account, leading them to believe she was still alive as of a few days ago. She had a bunch of unopened mail in her Inbox from people answering an ad she had placed for a ride to Utaline, Colo. This information, along with the DNA evidence, had changed everything. Crystal had been released from jail, and they were watching her home and the surrounding town to see if Christina showed up. I nearly jumped out of my seat when they said there was activity on her email account. If she was still following our plan, I knew things had to be okay. But I was surprised to hear that she had not answered any of the emails. Although they now believed she was alive, no one knew where she had gone. She hadnt checked her email since she posted the ad. She hadnt opened or replied to any of the responses. I was worried that she met up with the wrong person or maybe she got lost. At this point, nobody knew anything. The police department in Colorado mounted another search. She was, after all, only 14 years old and way too young to be on the street alone. She was so brave, I was afraid she had taken a risk or trusted someone she shouldnt have trusted. At the moment, she was considered missing, not murdered. Missing. I didnt want to let the word into my head. If I knew my girl she was hiding out, or at least thats what I told myself so the fear wouldnt completely consume me. Then they told me I was free to go. Free to go, they said. I was free to GO! It all happened so fast. I had imagined spending 10 or 20 years behind bars and it scared the hell out of me. Even as worried as I was about where Christina might be, I was relieved. The detectives shook Anthonys hand and then my own. I think I must have been in some kind of shock. Officer Jackson asked me if I was willing to sit down with Christinas mother and discuss what had happened. I didnt want to face the woman after all I had heard about her, but I figured that perhaps she could give me some insight into things I couldnt get on my own. Even if she was an abusive, sick bitch, she was still Christinas mother. My mom knew things about me that other people didnt. Its human nature, your mom always knows you. I said as much to the man, and he reminded me that Christina

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had been lying to me from the start and that I shouldnt jump to any conclusions before I had heard everyones story. With that last thought resonating in my head, I let him lead me to Christinas mother. She sat there, behind his desk, dressed much the same as she had been that day in the park. She was a put-together woman, I couldnt argue with that. I found it strange that she was so perfectly accessorized and primped with her daughter missing and possibly dead. I wondered if anyone else felt the same way. It didnt look like it. Everyone in the room seemed to be catering to her. She had them all rapt, playing her role as the terrified mother. Before I even sat down, she was talking at me a mile a minute. Christina had often warned me that her mother was a calculating woman who would stop at nothing to control or hurt her. With that in mind, I listened to what she said, but I found it hard to take her seriously. Then again, I was a bit torn by the lies she herself had told me. What if her mother really wasnt crazy? What if my sweet girl was really a crazy girl who belonged right where she was when she met me? After awhile I wasnt exactly sure who I believed anymore. Her mother was pleading with me in a pretty convincing way, asking without really asking why I had helped her escape; cloying questions about everything from our relationship to the car ride to Colorado. She made me uncomfortable. Her stare was a little too intense, her voice a little too passionate. One moment I was sure she was acting and the next she had me feeling guilty. She came at me, rapid-fire: Did she really seem happy to you? How could you not have noticed her nervous condition? I hope you werent intimate with her in any way, given her mental state. She danced around being mean. Her sweet demeanor didnt match the underlying fierceness of her questioning. By all accounts, she was grilling me about the disappearance of her daughter. It also seemed she was trying to subtly make me believe her side of the story. She asked leading questions. I could tell when I didnt answer the way she wanted me to because she would rephrase the question and coax out a response that matched her version of everything. When she felt she had sewn her story into my mind as best she could, she switched gears. Her next line of questioning led me to believe that she thought I might know where Christina was hiding almost accusing me of just that. Love or no love, I wouldnt have sat there in jail, charged with murder, and kept a secret about where Christina was. Im not sure if she got what she wanted from our conversation, but when she was leaving she reached out to shake my hand. I was relieved to be done with her, and I wondered if I should have ever agreed to talk to her in the first place.

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All she did was confuse me more, and I didnt think that was possible. I spent the next few nights with John, trying to decide my best course of action and waiting for the cops to return my computer. Now that I wasnt on the run anymore, it would be way easier to get to Colorado. On the original trip, I had considered it too dangerous for us to fly, but looking back it would have ended up being less risky than the road trip turned out to be. I was still conflicted about her not cluing me in about being in the hospital, but I also felt very guilty for losing her. She trusted me to get her away from wherever she was, and I let her down.

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6. Pyre

Suffice it to say, I didnt end up sleeping on the floor. The dorm bed was really small but it didnt matter when he was on top of me. I felt powerful. Before his Thanksgiving trip home, we spent the rest of the time in that room. I found it very easy to cajole him out of going to class. All I had to do was flash a little skin and he was all over me. In the rare moments when he wasnt in the mood, I had him running little errands to go get us food or a movie. He was a very sexual guy, and I used it entirely to my advantage. I was willing to do whatever he wanted; in fact, he told me that hed never met a girl who was so into sex. Funny, Id only done it a few times before I was with him. It was amazing how easy it was to size him up and manipulate him. I knew that wouldnt control him forever, but by the time he got sick of me Id be at Crystals or with Michael. I wanted him to believe that I liked him, but moreover I wanted him to believe that he loved me. If I could make him think he couldnt stand to be without me, he would be my little puppy dog. At that point, I was pretty sure I wouldnt have any problem doing that. I didnt feel bad because I figured we were both having fun. By the time we were on the road, he was calling me baby and begging to introduce me to his mother. I was coy with him, smiling and whispering maybe as I batted my eyelashes. There was no way Id agree to meet his mother but I couldnt tell him that. I didnt want to put him in a position where he would have to explain to his family or friends where I had gone. It was bad enough that he was probably going to end up feeling used; his mom didnt need to know anything about it. He didnt even know my real name, so hed never be able to find me. The drive was supposed to take about four hours, but once we were outside the city on our way into the mountains, it began snowing really hard. I was immediately nervous. Yeah, babe, I know it looks like a lot of snow but they keep this road clear,

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he said. Well be home in no time. He was so sure of himself that it eased my fears a bit, but my intuition told me something wasnt right. In an effort to keep up my ruse, I had to agree with him. But I was nervous. I was the self-appointed navigator with a backpack full of maps, but he knew the way by heart. I followed along anyway because I was very eager for all of this to be behind me. If I thought about Michael at all while I was with Brendon, it was in the car. The similarities between the two guys were almost nil. Michael was a no-bullshit kind of guy; you couldnt snow him with a little easy sex and a few dreamy smiles. Brendon was the kind of guy who was so busy keeping up appearances that he lost himself. He wanted to be a rock star, a famous writer, even a pilot. I pretended to be in awe of his dreams, but they just made me laugh to myself. He really was just an overgrown little boy looking for a place in the world, trying to impress the people around him in any way he could. I wondered fleetingly where Michael might be. I hoped he would be waiting for me in Utaline, but I knew that he could very well be in jail. I convinced myself to hope for the best and forced him out of my mind every time he popped into it. I couldnt allow my real feelings to come through and ruin my ride home. I was in the final stretch, and everything was going according to plan. It snowed harder and harder and we had to drive pretty slowly. By the time we were in Glenwood Springs, we had been in the car almost five hours. Unfortunately, that was only the halfway point. Brendon had a small, fuelefficient German car, but we were almost out of gas. We stopped along the road somewhere, and a few people urged us not to get back on Interstate 70 because there had been a very bad accident a few miles away and things were extremely backed up. This was a real letdown because we were both more than eager to get to where we were going at this point. Brendon insisted we stay on the road. Any other time I would have complained but I was very much ready for the whole ordeal to be over. Ray, the interstate runs in the same direction as the Colorado River, so as long as we travel alongside the water we can skip the accident and get back on the main road beyond the traffic jam. I couldnt help notice he shortened my name, as if we had known each other for ages. Are you sure? I said. Absolutely. My dad and I do it every summer, and its a gorgeous ride. Youll love it. Itll be so romantic! He sounded like he wished he had thought of it earlier. Romantic had an entirely different meaning to me, but I kept that tidbit

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to myself. The tender moment I was looking forward to was knocking on that door in Utaline. Every time I imagined Michael at Crystals, greeting me with a huge smile and running down the walk to meet me, it was easier to convince myself that there was no way he could possibly still be in jail. I checked my map and it seemed Brendon was right. The water flowed, more or less, on the same path as the interstate. Since he had made the trip before and we were already behind schedule, I agreed. We headed toward the alternate route and I was hopeful, despite my lingering doubts. We drove without seeing a snowflake or another car for about an hour. We were still congratulating each other on what a good idea it was to go this way when it began to rain lightly. Not the least bit concerned, we continued further still along the road as it wound through the mountainous countryside. Being from Buffalo, a city that is essentially flat, the ridges looked imposing and scary. My nerves were getting worse as the rain turned to something more like sleet as we zipped up and down the inclines. I made no mention of it. I chalked my fears up to not being used to such terrain and tried to enjoy the ride. Even the roadside signs were making me nervous. They showed impossibly curvy arrows on yellow reflective diamonds, depicting the road ahead as more of a bumpy roller coaster ride than I would have liked. I refused to crack and voice my fears. More than once, I felt the car slide somewhat unnaturally in the lane, and his hands clamped hard on the wheel. At one point, a huge deer ran across the road and we narrowly missed it. The film of sweat on Brendons face and his gasp alluded to the fact that I was not the only one getting freaked out. Perhaps we should have known better than to venture off the main road, especially considering the conditions we had been driving in earlier, but with the lure of getting home instead of sitting in traffic, we plodded onward. We could have turned toward the interstate at any time, since we had surely passed the accident, but for some reason we didnt. I think Brendon really liked showing me his special off-the-beaten-path route so much that we continued on even when we were both scared. We still hadnt passed another car or seen more than one or two houses. It was getting dark and I noticed he was driving faster and faster. Periodically, Id ask him to slow down because there was ice on the road, and he always did. It never lasted very long. Soon wed be flying 15 miles an hour over the speed limit again. Any other time it would have been okay with me, but in the frosty dark of the Colorado mountains, it was slightly more than I could take. We were on our way up a particularly steep section of the road when I finally told him we absolutely had to find our way back to I-70 soon because my nerves

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were shot. He smiled and told me he had been thinking the same thing. I was very relieved. We decided that we would pull over at the top and check out our maps to find the main road again. At that point, it had been snowing lightly for a few minutes. In the early evening twilight, the snow looked like diamonds all over the road. Everything was coated with white, illuminated only by the everwaning slips of sunlight and our headlamps. It was beautiful, but I couldnt wait to get out of there. We were at about a 45-degree angle for what seemed like a few miles, all the while climbing higher and higher. I had a film of sweat over my entire body, my hands were clammy and I had to be careful when I spoke because I was afraid my voice would crack. I hadnt been this anxious in a long time, and he didnt need to see that side of me. When we finally made it to the top, I let out a huge sigh of relief. The whole ride up, I had imagined sliding backwards to our doom. Instead of pulling over at the peak, we started the trip down the mountain hoping to come across a gas station or something. We both wanted to stretch our legs and maybe get a cup of coffee. The first few hundred yards or so were uneventful but before we knew it we were gaining speed and fishtailing as the car slid out of control down the mountain road. I tightened my seatbelt and watched as he firmly pressed the brake to no avail. I wanted to close my eyes, but the signal didnt seem to reach my brain. The road curved downward in front of us as Brendon did his best to stay on it. There were guardrails, but I wasnt sure they would hold us if we crashed into them at these speeds. Its funny where your mind wanders when you are truly afraid. I couldnt stop thinking about how beautiful everything looked. How incompatible that thought was to the thought of one of us lying there, bleeding to death, crushed to bits on the rocks. It occurred to me that if we did have an accident, no one would ever find us. Who would think to look for us here? We came up with this shortcut on the fly; no one would venture out here if we turned up missing. Michael would think I had abandoned him. Tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. What if I never saw Michael again? Instead of things becoming a blur as I might have expected in a situation like this, my focus increased tenfold. Time seemed to slow, and I could see every snowflake, feel every bump. The evergreen trees on either side seemed too close, and now it was no longer twilight; there was darkness all around us. This side of the incline had a lot more snow and ice. I glanced at the speedometer. We were only going 35 miles per hour but that was with the brake pedal fully depressed. We could hear the automatic brakes trying to engage. The longer we slid, the more we swerved out of control. When I saw a sharp turn coming up in front of

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us, I prepared to crash. I knew we would never make it around. I tried to see over the edge to where we might land, but it was too dark. As we approached the curve, Brendon yelled for me to brace myself. I brought my knees to my chest and held on for dear life. Somehow Brendon maintained enough control to stay on the pavement. As we neared the bend, he turned the wheel sharply toward the other lane. Instead of careening off the cliff, the car spun 360 degrees on the ice at least twice before it slammed into the rocky wall on the opposite side of the road. Once we came to a halt, it took me a few minutes to collect myself. I was in shock and all but frozen in fear. After a minute or two, I shook my head to right myself and stretched my legs. My joints hurt from being so tense, but otherwise I was fine. I looked toward the drivers seat and, although he had a small stream of blood running down his face from an ugly gash in his hairline, Brendon was conscious. He must have hit his head on the window because it was shattered into a million different sections, although the glass was still intact. My hands were shaking as I reached for him. He seemed to be a little bit out of it, just sitting there looking at me. I figured he had a concussion, and I hoped it wasnt anything worse than that. I looked for something to hold on the wound and all I could find was a wad of yellow napkins from some fast food place where we had stopped along the way. I folded the stack in half for maximum absorbency and gently pressed it to his head. He winced but still didnt say anything. I scooted over next to him, keeping pressure on his head and just kind of holding him. I had watched enough television to know that he could go into shock and I didnt want that to happen. I knew I had to keep him awake and keep him warm. I talked to him the entire time, not knowing if he could hear or understand me. If he began to nod off, Id just nudge him and keep talking. I looked at the clock constantly, and time was passing very slowly. After a few hours, I began to see signs of normalcy in Brendon. He had stopped bleeding and was moving around a little bit in the seat. I did my best to keep him awake, but my eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. I knew I couldnt walk for help until morning, but sitting there doing nothing was utter torture. I did everything I could to stay awake. I dug my nails into my arms, counted the stars and sang songs. I tried to use the radio but it didnt work. It was getting really cold in the car so I was glad to have someone next to me to help keep warm. The low temperature and sheer darkness made it even harder to stay conscious. I guess I lost my battle to exhaustion sometime after 2 a.m., which was the last time I remember looking at the clock. I woke with a start when I realized there

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was sunlight shining on my face. I was glad it was morning, but I felt guilty about having fallen asleep. My eyes flew open, and I was surprised to see I was alone in the car. Shaking off the last bits of sleep, I opened the door and looked around. Brendon was a few yards away, urinating on a tree. Relieved that he hadnt died because I let him fall asleep, I waited until he finished and walked over to see how he was doing. Now that it was light outside, I could see the extent of the damage to the car. There was a pool of fluids under it, some of which were gasoline and motor oil, if I recognized the smells correctly. I found it a little disconcerting to have sat all night in a car that was leaking gas. Good thing we dont smoke. I joked. Yeah, he answered weakly. You okay? Me? Yes, Im fine, I said. How are you? You scared the shit out of me. Sorry, honey, I think Im alright. My head kills and Im dizzy but I think Im okay. I puked, he said as he gestured gleefully toward a pile of vomit on the ground. I didnt need to see it, I would have believed you, I laughed. How are we going to get out of here? He gave me a big hug and I reassured him that I was fine. We gotta walk, babe, he said. I havent seen a car or a person since yesterday, and my phone never gets a signal out here. I decided to put on a few more pairs of socks and layer my clothing. Despite the sunshine, it was really cold. In the daylight, the scenery was breathtaking, but I knew we had a long trek ahead of us. I tried to tell myself this would be a wonderful little hike, even though the steep hills we drove yesterday were still sharp in my mind. I tried to think positively. Wishing I had some boots, I slid my feet into my sneakers. They were tight because of the socks but I figured warmth was more important than being able to wiggle my toes. I looked around the car and put the rest of my belongings into my bag. We had two bottles of water. I handed one to Brendon and drank about half of the other one. I knew I should save it, but we hadnt had anything to eat or drink in well over 12 hours. He must not have been worried because he drank all of his. After checking the maps, we decided to continue in the direction we had been driving the night before. We knew there were no stores or houses for miles, but perhaps wed get lucky and see a cabin or a hunter. I looked up the hill behind us and saw the skid marks from our accident. We were really lucky. The tire tracks were just inches from the edge in more than one spot. Thank God it was dark when we crashed because had I known how close we were to the edge I might have had a stroke. At least it had stopped snowing, for now.

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Brendon didnt follow my lead in preparation for our adventure. He laughed when he saw me piling on all my clothes, saying he was used to the cold. His flippant attitude annoyed me. He didnt seem to understand the danger we were still in. Im from Buffalo, the blizzard capital of the world. Im used to the cold, too, and thats why Im dressing for the weather, I said curtly. He pointed to the cloudless, azure sky in a dismissive manner and winked at me. Im not taking any chances, I said. You should at least put on an extra pair of socks because frostbite is a real danger out here. Well be moving so Ill keep warm, he said. You are sweet to worry about me, baby, but well find people before we have to worry about frostbite. There has to be a gas station near here somewhere because we havent passed anything for miles. Don't forget, I know this road really well." Although he had lots of things with him, he only took one extra sweater. He said hed get the rest of his things when they came back for the car. He teased me for bringing all my stuff. What he didnt know was that as soon as we reached safety, Id be history so I had to take my stuff. Hearing Brendon call me baby was starting to grate a little on my nerves. His logic didnt make sense, but I didnt see the point in arguing with him. His stubborn side hadnt shown itself before this and it was irritating. Not seeing civilization for miles did not make it obvious that wed come across something soon. In fact, the opposite seemed true to me. I didnt want to fight or have any tension with this fake boyfriend. All I needed was to get to safety so I could get back to Michael. I kept my mouth shut and pretended I was just a silly little worrywart. Truth be told, nothing about my life was ever easy, and I knew this was going to be a long, cold walk whether he was smart enough to realize it or not. Before we left, I put a note in the front window of his car. On the off chance anyone happened to see the wreckage, I figured it would be a good idea to let them know we had gone to try to find help. His head must not have been hurting too badly, because I had to jog to keep up with him. He was a full foot taller than me and his stride was huge. He had no intention of slowing down on my account. It was pissing me off but I tried to keep my cool. He blamed my lack of speed on all the extra stuff I was carrying. I secretly wished I could knock him off the cliff, or at the very least ditch him and find my own way. I was incensed but I couldnt show it so I plodded on. It was kind of like being in public with my mother. After three hours or so of walking too fast, I needed a break. I sat down on a

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huge rock and waited for him to realize I wasnt behind him. I saw him venture over the top of a hill and disappear from view. Up until now, I thought he was a sweet guy, but they say stressful situations bring out your true personality. It seemed to me that Brendons true self was a bossy asshole. I sat there for 15 minutes before I heard him yelling. Raven! Raven! Where are you, Ray? he yelled, sounding nervous. It made me smile. Id had enough of a break, but I wanted him to have to retrace as many steps as possible to find me. For a moment, I thought about hiding in the bushes and letting him think I had disappeared. I decided that was a little too mean so I just waited for him to find me. His voice was much closer now; he would be visible in a few more seconds. What the fuck is wrong with you? he yelled. Why are you just sitting there? I thought something happened to you. First of all, dont you fucking swear at me, I spat, before I could think better of it. I asked you to slow down because I needed a break. Shocked at my comeback, he backed down a little. He was clearly still angry. Lets go, was all he said, a little too forcefully. After a few more hours of walking in the wilderness with minimal conversation, we saw a few small buildings way off in the distance on an entirely different mountain. We were at a particularly high elevation and could see for miles around. It was the only sign of life we had come across that day. We yelled and screamed, but no one could hear us. They were miles away, too far to make a go of it in my opinion. Brendon insisted we leave the road and try to get there. I could see people, which was promising, but I was positive it would be dark well before we got to them. It was a lot farther than it looked, and the off-road terrain would be difficult, no matter how hopeful he was. It would also be very easy for us to get lost out there. We might never get to them. I didnt want to spend the night in the mountains without the protection of the car. There was a dense mixture of trees and brush, snow of unknown depth and lots and lots of rocks. I pointed up the mountain, trying to talk some sense into him. It was covered in boulders, jutting out at all angles, and it looked like an impossible hike. He swore the climb down wasnt as rocky and steep as it was above us. I knew for a fact he was wrong. He had already proven to me when he refused to dress properly that he was not a good decision maker. This was no time for grandiose thinking or testosterone-induced chest beating. He was too hard-headed to even hear what I was saying. It was clear that he had already decided his route so I assessed the situation. I could refuse to go with him and continue on the road on my own, or I could go with him and possibly die. At the very least, we would

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likely spend the night clinging to the mountainside. It wasnt a hard decision. Its not like we were having a good time with each other anymore anyway. I think this is where we part ways, Brendon, I said. There is no way Im following you down there. Its too far and too dangerous. We have already been walking for the better part of the day. Were too tired to make that trip. I crossed my arms and stated my case emphatically. Babe, we cant split up. Its too dangerous. Dont be stupid. Lets go! The way he said the word stupid was so disrespectful that he had me seeing red again. I dont know who this guy thinks he is, I muttered to myself. I was pretty shocked when he slapped me hard across the face. If he expected me to cower, he was going to be pretty shocked, too. I sprung from the ground where I had landed after he hit me and leaped at him, knocking him to the ground. I clawed his face and kneed him in the balls. He was clearly not aware of my strength. I pictured my mother and waled on him. How often had I been slapped like that only to endure it and say nothing? There was no way I was going to let this guy get the better of me. Unfortunately, hes a lot bigger than I am. Once the shock wore off, he was able to subdue me easily. He grabbed me by the hair and stood me up. Guiding me from behind, still yanking my hair, he shoved me down in front of him. I struggled, but I couldnt get free. He didnt let go until we were a good distance from the road, and even then he kept his eye on me. Of all the things that had happened, this behavior was something I never expected. Nothing about Brendon had hinted at the abusive side emerging over the past few hours. I knewI would have to go along with him if I didnt want to get hurt, but the thought made me sick. I remembered the scene in the car, holding him and making sure he didnt fall asleep. Had I known he could do this to me, I would have left him there to fend for himself. Once again, I went over my options. I could be argumentative and risk more violence or I could feign an apology and do my best to get away as soon as possible. I just wanted to get out of the snow and never see him again. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and made nice. Hey, Im sorry, I said. You are right. I was just scared I wouldnt be able to make it down this incline. I think he was surprised when I broke the silence, but I was determined to manipulate the best possible scenario. He was so full of himself, that he believed me. After that, he was nice to me again, proving to me that he was nuts. I was cursing myself for thinking I could control him. After awhile, we came to a very steep drop-off. Even holding on to the trees

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for support, it was nearly impossible to go any farther without falling straight down. My face and neck were already scratched up badly from the branches slapping me. It was little comfort to see that not only was Brendon bleeding from similar wounds, but he was also shivering like crazy. On the road, we had the benefit of a little sunshine and we were moving fast enough to generate some warmth. Now we were inching along in sometimes knee-deep snow under a canopy of trees. It was markedly colder. It served him right that I was plenty warm in all my layers. This mini-cliff we were standing on overlooked a drop of about 20 feet straight down with a relatively small, snowy ledge below. Following that was an even longer drop of similar steepness and after that was a spot where Id feel safe again. I could see the bottom now, but the buildings we were headed toward were nowhere in sight. I knew we were probably lost but I was afraid to say so for fear of another attack. When I hesitated at the top, he told me he could toss me over if I didnt want to walk down. The crazy look in his eye told me he wasnt joking. I slid down on my butt, narrowly missing a few sharp rocks. He was a little more careful, attempting to make his descent on foot. I watched him as he carefully chose his purchase. About halfway down, he lurched slightly and a slight grimace crossed his face. He rolled his ankle and had to limp slowly the rest of the way down. We stood on the ledge, gathering our strength before attempting the next slope. He was in pain and I could see trepidation in his face. This was going to be hard for him, but we had no choice at this point. We could never make it back up. Try going down like I did, I offered. You are smaller than me, he said, plus I dont want to smash my nuts on any of these rocks. He pointed to all the stones jutting menacingly out of the snow. I smiled and agreed with him, although I knew that if he was careful, he would be fine. It wasnt steep enough to slide out of control if you were close to the ground. Its not like I slid down at top speed, I inched myself down in a controlled way, grabbing trees and roots to slow me to a safe pace. It was the only way I could see my not getting hurt. Ok babe, see you down there, I quipped. Before he could respond, I was on my ass again, inching my way down. I reached the bottom before he had traveled more than a few feet. I couldnt even see him. It occurred to me that I could run, but I didnt. When he realized how far away I was, he got nervous, probably thinking the same thing. Where are you, Raven? he called. I cant see you through all these trees! I didnt answer right away; I let him think I hadnt heard him. Raven! he yelled again, and this time he sounded angry. I could hear him moving a little faster as he called to me again and again. Each time he yelled, the panic rose in his voice

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and he moved a little faster. When he became visible, I hid behind a tree and watched him try to hurry down. He was in pain, but moving as fast as he could, scanning the hillside left and right trying to find me. I was just about to reveal myself when he stepped in a pile of deep snow with his good foot. To catch himself, he had to stomp awkwardly with his already sore leg. He ran a few uneasy paces trying to catch himself. When he couldnt get his bearings, he began tumbling down the steep slope, completely out of control. He was crashing down, still screaming a string of profanities and threats. Ill fucking kill you when I find you, he hollered, not knowing where to look for me. I was now standing where he could see me but he didnt notice. I heard a grotesque, hollow thud as his head smacked into a rock. He slid a little farther and when he stopped, he was quite limp. He looked dead as he rolled the last few yards. He came to a stop not far from where I stood. He had blood coming from his ear, nose and mouth. Upon further inspection, I saw his chest rise and fall ever so slightly. He hit the rock so hard that I was sure hed be out for a while. Two head injuries in 24 hours couldnt be good. I patted the tender spot on my cheek where he had hit me and realized I didnt feel the slightest bit sorry for him. I had warned him that this route was going to be too dangerous. Surely if we had stayed on the road, we would have seen a passing car or a gas station by now. I couldnt tell what time it was, but there were already long shadows amongst the trees. I estimated it would be dark within a few hours. I rolled Brendon over on his back and straightened him out a little. I knew I probably shouldnt move him, but he was face down in the snow and I couldnt leave him like that. It looked to me like his right arm and left leg were broken; both hung at funny, unnatural angles. Even if he did wake up, he wouldnt be able to go anywhere. I knew I couldnt carry him because I could barely roll him over. I yelled for help, hoping someone was passing by or out for a hike. When no one returned my calls, I sat down on the ground and looked through my bag for something to mark the spot so someone could find him. I wasnt sure what my course of action should be, but I wasnt going to sit there alone all night. I found a red handkerchief that Michael used to pull his hair back and tied it around a tree branch. I piled snow about a foot high all around Brendon, so he would have a little shelter from the wind, and layered some big pine branches on top of it. I had a hard time pulling the tree limbs off so it took me awhile. It looked more like a final resting place than a safe haven, but I didnt have much to work with and did the best I could. I didnt like him very much anymore, but I didnt want to be responsible for him freezing to death. I wrote him a note, telling him that hed fallen and that Id gone for help. I folded it into his good hand and

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hoped hed wake up to find it. I spent so long working on shelter for Brendon that there was no question it would soon be nightfall. As I walked, I could only hope that I was going in the direction of the people we had seen earlier. I got wet packing snow around Brendon,and I was starting to get cold. I didnt want to stop, but after a few miles I was shivering violently. I reasoned that I shouldnt walk through the woods in the dark and resigned myself to the fact that Id be staying alone in the woods that night. I cursed Brendon with every fiber of my being. I walked a few more minutes, looking for a good spot to camp for the night. I was hoping to find a cave or maybe a rock formation with a crevice I could squeeze into, but to no avail. I had seen both of those earlier, but the ground I was walking on now was much flatter and less rocky. I came across a huge pine tree that looked like it reached the sky. The lowest branches were about three feet off the ground and since it was getting dark I figured this was my best bet. At least Id be out of the wind. It wasnt going to be a very comfortable night, but I figured I could survive there til morning. I crawled inside my little burrow and saw that there were thousands of dried pine needles on the ground. I knew they would help keep me warm if I tunneled into them, and that made me feel slightly better. I was starving, having had nothing but a half a bottle of water since the previous afternoon. I emptied the backpack, hoping to find some candy or crackers or something. I opened each of the pockets and found a few packets of leftover sugar that came with coffee, and I ate them immediately. It didnt do much for my hunger, but I knew it was better than nothing. When the bag was empty, I saw there was a zippered pocket in the very bottom. I hadnt noticed it earlier when the bag was full. I pulled it open and could not believe my eyes. Inside was a small, sharp hunting knife and a small orange pouch labeled Wilderness Kit. I was bowled over. Michael really did think of everything. I was surprised he hadnt mentioned this stuff, but Im sure he never thought wed need it. It probably came with the bag. No wonder it seemed heavier than it needed to be. The pouch was small but weighed at least three pounds. I undid the drawstring, my fingers so cold I could hardly stand it, and dumped the contents in my lap. There was a small LED flashlight, two emergency blankets that looked like huge pieces of foil when opened, and two energy bars. There were also two little packets of dehydrated vegetable soup. I was overjoyed at the idea of soup, but I had nothing to cook them in. I tore open one of the bars and downed it in 10 seconds flat. I chuckled to myself, glad no one had witnessed me eating like that. I was happier already. I wanted to eat both of them, but I decided I had to wait until the morning.

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Having eaten, I turned my attention to the last item in the bag which turned out to be hands-down the most valuable thing he had packed. Inside a little plastic zipper bag I found a lighter and six small, dry sticks with instructions on building a fire. The package said sticks were designed to burn with the slightest spark, so I was confident Id be warm that night after all. It was getting darker by the minute so I shoved everything off my lap, grabbed the knife and flashlight and went to find some wood. The sticks were just for starting a fire, not sustaining one. I clipped the flashlight to my zipper so it shown on the ground, and before long I had an armload of twigs and branches. I dropped them at my hideout and went looking for more. I didnt want to run out before morning. When Id amassed what looked like enough wood, I went to work trimming the tree back so I could build the fire as close as possible and not burn the whole thing down with me underneath it. It was very dark by the time I was ready to start a fire. I sent Michael mental clouds of love and gratitude for the little survivor pack. It was a lot of work, but my night would have turned out to be a lot worse without that stuff. I dug a hole in the snow, all the way down to the ground and about three feet in diameter, and followed the fire-building instructions. I had no trouble whatsoever getting it going. I was proud of myself. Never before had I done such a thing. Shit, Id never even been camping. I decided to take off my wet clothes and try to dry them by the fire. I stripped down to my tights and t-shirt and after I hung everything on branches, I wrapped myself in the crunchy little foil blankets and sat in the firelight. As much as I wanted company, I hoped no one would come along and see me sitting there half naked. I drank the last of my water and packed some snow into the bottle so it could melt and I could drink it later. I decided to add the dehydrated soup packet, too; cold soup was better than no soup and I was still hungry. As I sat there hugging my knees with nothing to do, my mind raced as the gravity of the situation set in. I was lost and alone in the mountains. There was no guarantee Id find my way out alive. I had been forced to walk miles from the safety of the road and the car. I hated to admit it, but once I was done building my shelter, I was scared. I missed Michael so much that not only did my heart ache, but my entire chest felt as if it were caving in. My head started to pound. Had he been with me, it would have been an adventure. But since I was alone, it was a nightmare. I wondered for the first time what kind of animals lived out there in the forest. I tried to remain calm and convince myself Id be safe, but I was slipping. I wondered where Michael was. The thought of him in jail made me feel guilty and terrified. What if he was mad at me? What if he hated me when he knew the whole truth? What if he didnt want me anymore? What if he never

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talked to me again? What if he didnt let me explain? Sitting there half naked and freezing under the stars so far from civilization, the thought of losing him was too much to bear. I was thousands of miles from anyone I knew or loved. I was doing all of this so I could be with him, and if he didnt love me anymore I felt that I might as well put out the fire and freeze to death right here and now. Before I knew it, I was sobbing and rocking back and forth like a little girl. My mind hadnt raced like this since Id been rescued from my mothers house and thrown into the psych ward. Once my mind wandered to the hospital, it was impossible to stop flashbacks of the rape from popping in to my head. I dont know how long I sat there out of control, but when I saw the firelight reflected in the blade of that hunting knife, I knew what I had to do. I hadnt been stressed enough to self-injure in ages, but at this point I felt like I had no choice. Nothing else would bring the relief I needed to get through the rest of this night with my sanity intact. I needed to calm myself down. I needed some relief. I pulled the tights down to my knees and dragged the blade lightly across my left thigh three times. Normally I would have cut much deeper, but I knew I didnt have much to clean myself up with and I didnt want to bleed through onto my clothes when I put them back on. I watched the blood bead up and drip down my leg for a few minutes. The rush of relief from cutting is like nothing else I have ever come across in my life. I was instantaneously calm. I still hurt inside, but I was back in control. I held some napkins on the small wounds until they stopped bleeding and then I checked my clothes to see if the were dry. Everything but my jeans and socks were warm and toasty. I turned the wet stuff over so the other side was exposed to the heat of the fire and put everything else back on. I could wait until morning for the rest. I put the remaining wood on the fire and ventured deeper under the tree to try to sleep. I made a little dip in the dry needles and laid one of the blankets on the ground. They were as thin as paper but incredibly, quite warm. Using the backpack as a pillow, I laid down and covered myself. The light of the fire was a real blessing. Without it, I would have been in total darkness, not wanting to waste the flashlight battery. I didnt want to end up spending another night like this, but I didnt know for sure who or what I would find tomorrow. My mind wandered to Michael again, but these were much happier thoughts then earlier. I relived our conversations online and planning our escape together. I remembered our first night and how our hearts truly became one as we lay together. I imagined he was there with me under the tree. I immediately felt less alone and I knew in my heart that he was thinking of me in that moment, too. I

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could feel his presence all around me. Despite my dark fears, I allowed myself to believe that he still loved me. I imagined the tree trunk behind me was him and leaned my shoulders on it for support. I wouldnt have expected to be able to sleep all alone out there. After all the fighting and hiking I had endured that day, I barely had any choice but to close my eyes and drop off into oblivion. If I dreamed, I didnt remember it when I woke up the next morning. The sun was already high in the sky, and the fire was out. I put my sneakers in the ashes for a few minutes to get them nice and warm before I put them on. I ate the second energy bar. I knew it was risky, finishing my last bit of food, but I was hopeful that Id find people soon. Besides, I knew it would be hard to continue the physical exertion of my trek with nothing in my stomach. If I was still traveling in the right direction, the people and buildings we saw from the road couldnt be that far off. I just hoped and prayed that I was still on course. I didnt know what time it was, but it had to be mid-morning by now. I kicked myself for not taking Brendons cell phone because he didnt have a signal where he was anyway. With me walking around, there was always a chance I could get service at some point and call for help. At the very least, I would have known what time it was. I packed up my things in the little pouch, as carefully as I had found them the night before, and zipped my bag triumphantly. I had survived a second night alone in the mountains. I hadnt been walking long when I heard a helicopter. Excited, I looked up, but I didnt see anything. I ran a short distance to some rocks and climbed as far as I could so I could see through the trees. It worked. The copter was a good distance away, flying parallel to the horizon. It was the first sign of life Id come across and it made my heart beat a little more quickly. I knew there was no way they could see me with all the trees, but it gave me hope, reminding me that civilization wasnt far away. I yelled, but of course they couldnt hear me. I watched until it was almost out of sight, hoping to figure out where it was headed so I could try to follow. I was surprised to see it turn to the right and, after flying toward me for a little ways, it begin to head in the opposite direction. Because of the grid pattern it seemed to be flying, I realized it must be a search-and-rescue team. Hopefully they were searching for me. Surely they had found the car by now with my note telling them we were planning to walk. If they found that stuff, they knew we were out here in trouble. I wondered if they found Brendon yet. I wondered if he was alive. I hoped he was and then again I kind of hoped he wasnt. My face still hurt from where he had hit me, and it was a constant reminder of the mistakes Id made lately. If I hadnt lied to Michael, he wouldnt have made me go into that sandwich shop alone and we never would have been

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separated in the first place. I tried not to think of this entire ordeal as being my fault, but I knew it was. When did I become such a good liar? I could only imagine what had happened to my baby after they arrested him. I kicked myself over and over for not talking to him about the hospital when I saw our news story on the television. Not doing so had left him uninformed and thus unable to make good decisions and keep us both safe. I knew he wouldnt have done that to me. I was immensely guilty. I hoped he wasnt in jail on my account. I reasoned that there must be some sort of evidence he could produce, evidence that would prove we had been together until the moment he was arrested, but I honestly didnt know what. We were very careful not to be noticed. He planned this trip so well, right down to the emergency survival kit and his copious collection of maps. We stayed under the radar until we were all the way to Colorado. There was a very good chance that he couldnt prove I had been with him because no one saw us. To keep my sanity, I promised myself he was okay. Safe and not in jail, but I knew it was a long shot. My anxiety level was sky high. I still couldnt figure out what evidence they had found to make them think I was dead in the first place, but I couldnt think about it too much or the fear and guilt would make me unable to function. The helicopter was still too far away for anyone to see me, but if they continued flying in the same pattern they would be overhead within a few passes. The only problem was all those trees around me. Although I could see the helicopter, there was a good chance the people in it wouldnt see me. When I looked up, I saw small patches of sky and tons and tons of branches. I had already climbed as high as I could on the rocks, but the trees still stood way higher. I looked around for a clearing. I figured it would be my best bet for being noticed. I was perhaps 20 feet off the ground and my vantage point was way better than it had been. I didnt see any clearings but I did see a small road not too far away! It wasnt a highway by any means, more like an unpaved path used by people in the area or something. My heart leapt even if they didnt see me from the helicopter, that road had to lead somewhere. Either way, it was the break Id been looking for. I got off of the rocks as fast as I could and ran toward the road. It occurred to me that I should have tried a long time ago to get to higher ground. I wondered how long I had been wandering around so close to that road. Reenergized by the prospect of rescue, I ran as fast as I could, knowing that there was no way they could miss spotting me as long as I got close enough. All that exercise I had gotten in the park with my mother was paying off. Thinking about the park automatically made me think of Michael and although I felt a stab of

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pain in my heart because I missed him so much, I ran until I could hear the helicopter close by. It was probably only three quarters of a mile but having no food in your system for a few days makes any physical exertion pretty hard. By the time I was where I needed to be, I was totally drained and breathing heavily. My body wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach. I stood there for a few seconds, dry heaving and listening to the helicopter get closer and closer. Soon it would be overhead. My mouth was so dry it was sticky. I could smell my own breath, and it was awful. I knew if I didnt get some water soon Id be in trouble. The little hands full of snow Id been eating here and there werent cutting it. Still catching my breath, I kept my eyes glued to the sky. A few long minutes passed before the copter was finally visible. I jumped up and down and screamed for help, waving my arms furiously to get their attention. They were so close I felt like I could reach out and touch them. I could see the Colorado State Police insignia on the hull of the craft and the faces of the men inside, but I couldnt tell if they saw me or not. No one waved or yelled back. They only took a few seconds to cross over the road. My stomach was in knots because before I had a chance to even process anything, they were gone. I was shocked and horrified but I refused to be defeated. I couldnt believe they didnt see me. How could they miss me if I could see them so clearly? I could imagine the engines were loud enough that maybe they couldnt hear me, but if they were searching for someone how the hell could they miss me right underneath them? Then it hit me. Directly beneath them, where I was standing, was probably the only place they couldnt see from their lofty vantage point. I mustered the rest of my waning strength and jogged a little farther down the road until they were in my line of vision again. I could scarcely hear over the sound of my heart beating and my vision was blurry. The adrenaline rush I was working on was almost over, and I had very little strength left. With tears in my eyes, I waved and jumped around like a lunatic, screaming for help so loud that my my voice was hoarse immediately. They were still not far away. This time, the door of the helicopter opened and someone triumphantly waved back to me. That was all I needed to see. As soon as I knew I was safe, my knees buckled and I found myself on the ground sobbing, staring up at the clouds. I wasnt scared anymore. I was finally safe. It was surreal. My survival instincts had carried me as far as they could, but as soon as I saw that door open my resolve fell to pieces. My muscles felt like rubber as I slumped to the ground; Id extended more energy than I realized running the way I had. The horror over not being seen had given me enough of a boost to get to where I needed to be, but I was utterly spent. If they hadnt seen me, I dont know that I could have gone any farther. I

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didnt even see them turn around to fly toward me. I just knew they were coming and that was enough. I gave in to my fatigue and waited. Before long, the helicopter was directly overhead again. I watched in wonder as the door opened and someone threw out a rope ladder. I tried to sit up, but I was too shaky. Someone from above yelled to stay where I was and I did just that. I watched as two men climbed down the ladder, one after the other. When they were both on the ground someone pulled up the ladder and tossed down a line and a harness. Lie still, honey, its okay, one of them said. Were just going to check you out a little bit before we get you out of here. Water, I tried to say. But by now between the exertion and the screaming I couldnt quite communicate. I was shaking badly. The first guy helped me into a sitting position and the other poured a bottle of water slowly into my mouth. It seemed I drank it all in one swallow. I was really loopy. They assured me there would be more, once we were on board the helicopter. What happened next was a little blurry. I could feel them slip me into the harness and pull me into a standing position. One of them clipped my harness onto his own and scooped me up like you would a baby. My head was on his shoulder. I tried to hold on to him but my arms werent responding. Dont worry, Ive got you. Rest now and well take you to the hospital, he said. I have a fleeting memory of slowly rising above the trees, hoisted by some sort of pulley system. I was too groggy to enjoy the view. The last cognizant thought I had was that it was a good thing they found me because all I could see around us were trees and mountains. The buildings and people I had been trying to walk to were nowhere in sight. When I was finally in the aircraft, someone took a few pictures and I realized that they were documenting the entire rescue. I was a little miffed because I didnt like the idea of anyone seeing me cry that hard. The next time I opened my eyes, the light was bright and artificial. I had no recollection of my flight to the hospital or anyone on the rescue helicopter. I was in the emergency room and there were lots of people around me. I was not pleased to discover that I was naked under a sheet. Someone was cleaning the cuts on my leg; someone else was wiping my face. I smelled alcohol and antiseptic. My left hand and arm had more than one IV dripping much needed liquid and nutrients into my system. I allowed myself to lose consciousness again, although I could have stayed awake if I fought hard enough. I didnt need to remember this part. No one ever wants to be as helpless as I was lying there. They told me I slept for 36 straight hours. When I finally came to, I had an

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eerie dj vu. The nurse took my hand, much in the same fashion as the one in Buffalo years before. She brushed the hair from my eyes and told me that Id given my mother quite a scare. Shell be so happy to see you finally awake, darling, the nurse said. Her tone was so sincere. It should have been comforting. But my stomach rolled and I vomited. The nurse was quick with a barf bowl, Ill give her that, so I didnt get any on myself. Ill run and get her right now, was all she said before she left the room. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How the hell did they recognize me? I looked around the room. I didnt remember telling anyone my name. I wasnt carrying identification. How had they put two and two together so quickly? I considered bolting but realized I wouldnt get far wearing a hospital gown and having no idea where I was to boot. This was the end of the road for me. I saw the backpack on the floor in the corner, and it dawned on me that all those maps must have given them a heads-up. Once they figured out where I was going, they knew who I was. I started to cry, thinking that this entire ordeal had been in vain. With tears still streaming down my face, I heard quick footsteps in the hall. Someone was running. I could just imagine my mother turning the corner and laying it on a foot thick for all the nurses. Oh my baby, thank God you are safe. The thought of it was enough to make me puke again. I braced myself. But it wasnt her face I saw when the runner finally got to my door. Of all of the things I thought about and wished for as I was trudging through mountains and sleeping under trees, that face was what I wanted most. Just to see his face, those sad, sweet brown eyes looking into mine. To be his again and for him to be mine. To feel reassured that he was safe and still cared about me was the only thing I needed. I didnt even worry that my mother was probably right behind him. I screamed a high-pitched, joyous howl. Oh my boy, my sweet, sweet Michael. The look on his face removed all of my fears. He was so placid, so happy to see me, that I knew beyond a doubt that he still loved me. I still didnt know what he had been through, but he was here so I knew he still cared. It seemed like it took ages for him to make the short distance from the door to the bed. I was shocked to find myself extremely weak. I tried to sit up fully and swing my legs over the side of the bed so I could go greet him properly. Between my intravenous tethers and my weak legs, all I could do was raise up on my elbows. I couldnt wait until he got to me. Id never been so pleased to see anyone. Ever. He jogged from the door and jumped the last few feet straight through the air. Without the slightest regard for the needles in my arms or the hospital bed, he landed squarely on top of me. I wasnt hurt and wouldnt have cared if I was. Ive never in my life had a more meaningful hug. My tears of fear

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turned to tears of joy and I held on to him with every ounce of strength I had. Id let go of him once and I was not going to do it again. He must have felt the same way because his grip was crushing my ribs, making it hard to breathe. I didnt care if he suffocated me as long as I was in his arms. He was crying, too, and trembling. I rubbed his back and tried to tell him everything was okay now, but I was a mess. I couldnt get any coherent words out. The relief I felt in that moment was infinite. It was the first time I had felt safe since Id turned my back and ran while he was being arrested. I froze as my eyes met the cold stare of my mother, standing in the doorway. I knew she was there at the hospital, but seeing her for real was like getting doused with a bucket of ice water. Michael kept squeezing me but then he must have realized we had an audience because he relaxed his grip and slunk back sadly, facing me. Even with my Michael acting as a barrier between us, I could feel her gaze like daggers and I was scared. As if he could sense my rising panic, he brushed my cheek with the back of one hand and held my hand with the other. The look on his face went from warm and dreamy to stone-cold resolve. He was showing me that he would protect me. If only he knew how hard that would be. Still holding my hand, he turned fluidly and sat next to me, facing my mother. I wondered then why Id survived all the bullshit over the past week, only to end up back here in her grasp. Dont leave, I murmured under my breath as she crossed the threshold and entered the room. I could see she was still planning what to do next, walking uncharacteristically slow and saying nothing. She didnt take her eyes off us. I saw her look pointedly at Michael holding my hand before her eyes fluttered to his face. She blinked a few times, which was never a good sign. She was doing her best to hold her composure. She could see the solicitous look in his eyes and seemed to understand that Michael could see through her facade. He would make her mother-of-the-year charade a little more difficult than it usually was, but I was pretty sure she had enough evil in her arsenal to combat almost any chivalrous action he could come up with. There was no protection from her, seeing her standing there in the hospital room, thousands of miles from where I ran from her, was proof enough of that for me. Many thoughts wove in and out of my mind. Fear was the most prominent feeling but, as usual, my mind raced. I shouldnt have tried to flag down that helicopter, I should have just found a way to walk to Utaline. If I hadnt expended all that energy running, I might have lasted at least another day or so. I would have eventually found people somewhere, especially once I found the road. But I was so happy at the prospect of getting out of the wilderness that I

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didnt realize how easy it would be for them to figure out who I was. Other than letting Michael out of my sight, it was the worst mistake I could have made. I cursed myself for being so weak. Before she had a chance say anything, the smiling nurse walked back into the room. I could imagine that, unlike Michael, she was soundly under my moms spell. She puttered about, checking on my IVs and such, asking me how I felt. How did you get such a terrible black eye honey? she asked. I hadnt realized I had one, come to think of it I hadnt looked in a mirror since we left campus. He hit me, I said. I didnt want to go off the road, so he forced me. I put my head down; it was embarrassing to admit. Until that moment, Brendon hadnt entered my consciousness. Did they find him? I said. Who hit you! Michael all but shouted. Oh boy, I had a lot of explaining to do. I had a lot of time to account for, and I wasnt sure how much of it I should be honest about. The guy I was hitching a ride with, I answered sheepishly, trying to avoid his gaze. He seemed really nice until we got stuck and then he was, like, a totally different person. He completely lost it out there. A few tears sprang into my eyes at the thought of him dragging me the way he did. Now that I knew I had a bruise, my face sort of hurt. Did someone find him? I asked the nurse again. Im not sure honey, she said. The police will be here soon to talk to you. We all have been wondering how you ended up out there. You got very lucky, flagging down that helicopter. You wandered into some pretty desolate territory. That wasnt a rescue copter? I said in disbelief. I thought they were looking for us! No, she answered. They were just a bunch of wilderness rangers on a training run. As I understand, they were studying the terrain, looking for tagged wildlife. You got very lucky. Oh my God, I said, horrified. That means he is still out there! If Brendon was still alive, that meant he had been all alone in the elements for days. No matter how badly he had treated me, I didnt want to think of him out there in pain, hoping for someone to find him. I knew how that felt. He hadnt been that awful to me that I would wish such a thing upon him. I remembered his bloody wounds and twisted arm and leg, wondering if he could have made it this long without help. From what I understand, you were all but incoherent when they found you, the nurse said. Ive heard no news about a companion. She looked sad, as if she knew how bad things had been out there. Oh my God. Oh my God! Someone has to go look for him, I said. Hes out there in the trees. I covered him in branches and snow so he wouldnt get too cold. Theres a note in his hand that I left when I went for help. He must think I left him to die. I can probably give the

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cops a pretty good idea where he is; he didnt get far once we left the road. I trailed off when I realized I was babbling. I honestly was in shock. I would have said something to the guys who rescued me if I knew they werent out there to look for us. I felt horrible. Try to relax now, the nurse said. The police are on their way to talk to you as we speak, and theyll do their best to find your friend, dont you worry. The nurse was very sweet. She was about my moms age, wearing scrubs with popular kids cartoon characters all over them and trendy, colorful, squishylooking shoes. It seemed a little juvenile to me, but I realized I was probably in a childrens unit of the hospital. It was a far cry from the psych ward, but I was so confused I almost felt that was where I should be. I realized I had no idea where the hell I was. Colorado. The hospital. Everything seemed like it was spinning out of my control. My mother still hadnt spoken a word to me. The news about Brendon hit me so hard. I leaned back, so happy to have Michael to rest my head on. I closed my eyes and put my head on his shoulder, ruminating on the notion that everything had turned out wrong. In the midst of everything, I had felt so in charge of the situation. The idea that everything I had built on my lies could come tumbling down hadnt occurred to me. It all started with a little white lie to Michael; I hoped it didnt end with Brendon dead on the side of a mountain. He deserved to be punished for treating me like shit, but had I not manipulated him in the first place he wouldnt be where he was. I wasnt looking forward to talking to the police. But before I dealt with the authorities Id have to deal with something even more daunting: my mother. She stood off to the side while I was talking to the nurse, taking in as much information as she could. I think she was probably shocked as shit when I turned up missing. I wonder if she knew how close she came to never seeing me again. She seemed unsure of how to play her hand in this situation. She knew that Michael not only knew about the abuse Id suffered but that she wouldnt be able to sway him. I was sure she had already tried. I was dying to know what had happened while I was gone. In the end, she must have decided to just withhold her official stance until things played out a little bit because she was acting really laid back. She didnt try to send Michael out of the room so she could scare the shit out of me. She didnt even really perform for the nurse. She was acting more normal than Id ever seen her. It was almost like she was glad I was okay, but I found it hard to believe she had a motherly bone in her body. At some point during the afternoon, a different nurse came in and asked my mother to come and give her some more medical history. Apparently the doctor had a few questions about my hospitalization in Buffalo. She left the room, seeming somewhat

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pensive. I no sooner glanced at Michael with a look that said were finally alone, than in came my doctor. I hadnt met him yet, so he introduced himself cordially as Dr. Dahlberg. He was about 35 and extremely handsome even with a slightly receding hairline. His twinkling blue eyes and genuinely kind smile all but hid any minor imperfection. I wasnt usually attracted to blonde men but he was really good looking. I was embarrassed to think of the state hed seen me in. He pulled up a stool from the corner and sat eye-level with me. We chatted a few minutes about my good luck, having the research team find me, and then he got down to business. He glanced at Michael, then said to me, I want to talk to you about some personal things. This might be a good time for your boyfriend to run down to the gift shop and buy you a magazine or something. Can he please stay? I asked. Michael shifted as if he were about to stand up, but hearing my response he stayed put. Yes, but you should know that what we are about to talk about is of a confidential nature, Dr. Dahlberg said. Assuming he wanted to talk about the abuse, or maybe the psych ward, I figured Michael might as well stay. He knew about my home life and I was gonna have to come clean soon about where I was when we met. I was sure he knew by now, but I wanted to explain it to him. We hadnt had any time to ourselves but I figured it might actually be easier this way. Its okay, I said. I tell him everything. Dr. Dahlberg smiled and continued, When you arrived in the ER the other day, you were in rough shape extremely dehydrated and hallucinating. We ran a number of tests and performed some examinations while we were trying to get you well again. He seemed a little hesitant, and I just knew he was going to ask about my scars. It was sweet of him to approach it so delicately. Other doctors had been far less careful, some had been straight-out rude. I wasnt exactly embarrassed, but I didnt like to think about laying there naked for the entire trauma unit to see the pain written all over my body like that. I shuddered. I was nervous and my hands went instinctively to my thighs, trying to cover the scars under my gown. I didnt like to talk about cutting. I can explain ..., I started to say, but he cut me off. I think he got the drift of what I assumed he wanted to talk about. I was wrong. Christina, you are pregnant, he said. He kept talking, but I didnt hear anything after that. Pregnant? Me? I did a double take, what did he just say? He watched my face for a response but I had gone blank. I was more than a little shocked. Michael and I had used condoms and, for that matter, so had Brendon and I. After a moment of consideration, I reasoned that it couldnt be Brendons baby. We had sex only a few days before and if he had gotten me pregnant, it

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would probably still be undetectable. I felt a tear slide down my face and then another. The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. He was really a nice guy. Michael slid his arm around my waist, startling me. I had all but forgotten he was there. I jumped and immediately laughed at myself. It broke the tension a little, but it didnt lessen my shock. Dr. Dahlberg started to talk about my options and Michael leaned in closer, hugging me tight. Were keeping the baby, he said, as if it were the obvious choice, which it definitely was. I was glad he felt that way. The three of us talked a little about the responsibilities we were about to take on and different ways to get ready for the baby. There were parenting classes, Lamaze breathing lessons and even social services to consider. I have to admit my head was only half into the conversation. The thought of our baby fluttering around inside me was enough to divert my attention from simply anything and everything. I looked down at my belly, imagining it swollen and round, and I felt more tears on my face. Michael was beaming. We both knew we were too young, but it didnt stop us from being happy in that moment. We agreed that Dr. Dahlberg would break the news to my mother. I didnt want to hear or see her reaction, but he insisted I be in the room while he told her. As it turned out, I was glad the doctor was there because it softened her response. She glared at Michael and looked more sincerely angry than Id ever seen her. But the doctor reminded her that whats done is done, and that since we had decided to keep the baby, she might as well get used to it. I liked hearing him tell her she had no control over the situation. Maybe the tables had finally turned in my favor. I knew that legally she could force me to give the baby up, but I also knew that even she would never do such a thing to me. I could see her trying to keep me away from Michael, but shed never take away the baby. Although I wouldnt be surprised if she threatened to. The police showed up right after the baby conversation, not leaving much time for digesting it all. I didnt know where to begin. The two female officers who had been sent to interview me stood to the right of my bed and did their best to look sympathetic. They reminded me of German Third Reich soldiers more than police officers. Both were long and lean, blonde and hard looking. I could barely tell them apart. I wondered if they were related. Their question was simple, the answer, not so much. How did you two end up alone in the mountains? they asked. I didnt know what to say so I decided to ignore the question. Did you find my friend? I asked. Is Brendon okay? Your nurse told us about your friend, one of them said. We have not been able to locate him as of yet, but dont worry. There is a full-scale search under way in the area where the helicopter spotted you. I did my best to explain, one more time, where we went off the road and its proximity to where I had left

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Brendon. The helicopter picked me up after many hours of walking. He would not be found anywhere near the spot where I was rescued. While they seemed pleased to have new information, they seemed perturbed to hear of the extent of Brendons injuries. They hadnt known to look for an abandoned car along the road to help mark his location, nor had they been looking for someone who might be completely incapacitated. I couldnt remember exactly what I told the nurse earlier, but I cant believe those bits of info didnt make it back to the cops. After calling the new information in to the people in charge of the search, they returned to their original question: What was I doing in the mountains and how I had made it there all the way from Buffalo and Bryleen Hospital? I began to rehash the trip that Michael and I took but they seemed to know all about it. They wanted to know what happened after we separated at the sandwich shop. I could feel my anxiety level rising as I saw Michaels face and realized he wanted to know the same thing. I knew I shouldnt lie to the police, but I didnt want Michael to hear the way things went down either, at least not the dirty details. Hed think I was a sociopath. I could have asked him to leave, but that would have been a red flag that something was wrong. I decided to just give as watereddown a version of the story as possible and hope it was good enough for both my boyfriend and the police. I told them I met some college girls in a parking lot and ended up getting invited back to the dorms where I spent the night. I said Id met Brendon the next morning in the coffee shop and realized that, ironically, we were both headed to Utaline for Thanksgiving. So we made a plan to split the gas money and ride home together. Where did you stay in the interim? a police officer asked. The question hung in the air for a few seconds and I swallowed a few sips of water, deciding how to phrase things. This was a question I had hoped I wouldnt have to answer explicitly. I stayed in Brendons dorm, I said. He was a nice guy, and he didnt have a roommate. He knew I didnt have anywhere to go so he let me crash with him. Was he aware of your status as a runaway? the officer asked. No. I told him I was a college student, too, I said. Im not proud of it, but I needed a place to stay. I told him I fought with my roommate and didnt want to go back to my dorm. He was a real gentleman to let me hang out there. While he was in class, I wandered around and talked to people. I had fun, actually. I threw in the word gentleman to insinuate that we had not slept together. It did the trick, because I could feel Michael relax, almost imperceptibly, as soon as I said it. I felt shitty for lying to him again so soon after he let me slide on the hospital thing. I dont know where this lying side of me came from but I didnt like it. I

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assumed a conversation about my journey and the hospital would have to go down eventually, even if he hadnt exactly mentioned it yet. Maybe Id bring it up on the way home or something. Truth be told, hed let me slide on a lot of things. There was no way he could know for sure that I was aware the authorities suspected him of murder on the ride down here. Nor did he know that I had been manipulating certain aspects of the truth the entire time, to fit my own agenda. But he was a smart guy and Im sure the idea would cross his mind eventually if it hadnt already, especially if I took things any farther. I knew that I needed to get back to reality, stop all the lies from this point forward and come clean about the things I could. We had a baby to think about, and I loved Michael so much. I didnt want to fuck it up with lies. I knew I didnt have to lie to make him love me or stay with me. It made me so happy to think that he could love me for me. I dont know if the officer could see that my mind had wandered, but they seemed to be wrapping things up. Michael looked almost proud of me for coming up with such a plan. I knew hed enjoy the simple genius of hiding in plain sight. I knew if they found Brendon, his side of the story might be a little more detailed, but Michael would never have to know about it. I told them we decided to take the scenic route to Utaline and ended up getting lost after our car broke down. I said that in his frustration, Brendon had smacked me around a little bit but after he fell, Id resolved to forgive him and go for help. I hadnt exactly forgiven him, but now that I was safe I felt able to let it go. I didnt care so much if he didnt get punished for beating me up; I figured he had paid for it by sleeping on the freezing cold side of a mountain. I hoped he was still alive and that Id never have to see him again. The cops seemed pleased with the story I gave and left after maybe a half an hour. I felt as if I had dodged a bullet. Michael had no idea that Id slept with Brendon or made him think we had a future together. The authorities had no idea how Id manipulated him to get him to help me. For the time being, everything was copacetic. I hated to think that about how it would be so much better for me if Brendon had died, but I did think it. It was decided that I would return to the psych ward in Buffalo until they deemed me fit to leave. Once I was strong enough to travel, Id be going right back where we started. I was crushed, but the baby gave me hope. I was in charge of a life, and I knew I had to do whatever they said. By the time he or she was born, I would be out of the hospital and ready for the challenge of being a mommy. My mother agreed to let me ride back with Michael and his mom while she flew home. It was probably her Catholic upbringing, but now that I was pregnant she actually expected me to spend time with Michael. I hadnt met his

mom yet, and the idea made me a little nervous. I was kind of surprised to find out she had come all the way down here to help look for me. Hed painted her as such a bitch that I wouldnt have expected it. I was sincerely glad she was there. Otherwise, I would have ended up flying home with my mother and been back in the hospital within hours. At least I had a few more days. It was so ludicrous that they still thought I was unstable.
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7. Inferno

During the early afternoon, a nurse I didnt recognize stopped by my room to visit. Out of boredom, Michael had gone for a walk down to the cafeteria or the gift shop, so I was by myself. She was beaming. Her name tag was Rachel! and it was the only one Id seen with punctuation. Although all the nurses were starting to look alike to me by now, I absentmindedly noted her cute, sporty, red hair. She happily informed me that my boyfriend was eager to see me. I thought maybe Michael was playing some sort of joke on me or maybe had a surprise in store. When the nurse asked me to follow her, I did, still attached to the IV saline drip and the antibiotics that I had to pull around on a little cart. It was the first time Id been encouraged to walk around since I got there. As I followed her into the elevator and onto the floor above us, I smiled. Once we got off, she led me down the corridor to a room at the end of the hall. I was getting a little weak from walking, and I was still unpleasantly surprised at how much such a short time in the wilderness can fuck you up. She motioned for me to enter the room and told me shed give us a little privacy. There was a curtain drawn around the bed and as I pulled it back I surely got a surprise, but not the kind I expected. I was due to be released that morning and if I hadnt come down with a kidney infection, I might never have seen Brendon again. I had suddenly experienced a stabbing pain while urinating. That plus an oddly sore back got me a few more days in Colorado. That same morning, they had found Brendon clinging to life, still buried in leaves and snow where Id left him. Once they knew to look for the broken-down car, he was easier to locate. So that unexpected infection and inexplicable back pain led us to cross paths again, and I could have done without that. I was, however, glad that he didnt perish out there. Brendon looked so happy to see me that I was taken aback. I was off my game, but only momentarily. I had a role to play. He looked so pathetic and sick that I felt I owed him something. I hadnt expected to see him again but it didnt matter, I was up to it. Maybe I should have told him the truth but I chose not to.

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Rather than causing drama or revealing my true self, I sat on the edge of the bed and talked with him about the nights he spent in the woods alone. He was a mess of frostbite and windburn. He tearfully thanked me for covering him from the elements, recounting the note I left him with love. He gestured to the nightstand where the note sat crumpled and dirty for everyone to see. He mumbled something about having it framed. He was obviously highly medicated because he started to nod off a bit. I figured he wouldnt remember much of what we said to each other anyway. I hugged him and rubbed his back, knowing that Michael was probably wondering where I was. I didnt want him missing me so as soon as I felt Brendon drift off, I high tailed it out of there. Maybe I should have felt guilty, but I didnt. I could always tell him the truth when he was healthy again, or maybe just disappear back to Buffalo like none of it ever happened. Id have to see how things played out to make that decision, but I didnt see the point in kicking him while he was down. If I allowed myself to wonder how Michael would feel if he saw any of this go down, I might have felt a little guilty, but I kept my mind on other things. Maybe I should have thought about it a little bit. Michael and I were cuddling on the bed; my mother was already back at her hotel for the night. Around 7:30 p.m., someone in a wheelchair glided into the room. Michael sat up to greet the visitor while I made sure my gown was covering me properly; I really don't understand why you cant wear your own pajamas in the hospital. By the time he rolled up to my bedside, I realized that it was Brendon. He looked much better than he had earlier in the day. I wouldnt have assumed hed be mobile anytime soon. He was wearing an expression that was half hurt, half puzzled. He looked at Michael and then at me. He opened his mouth to speak and for a second no words came out. He glanced around the room furtively as if to make sure he was in the right place. When his eyes settled on the nightstand, I wanted to leap off the bed and throw him out of the room. But it was too late. He had seen the prenatal vitamins. Being a college guy, he was smart enough to make the leap from the vitamins to my being with child. Are you? he said, not able to spit out anything more. I could see he was floundering, trying to figure out who was next to me on the bed. Brendon, you look confused. Are you okay? I said, hoping to disorient him a little more. I didnt want him to say anything that would make me look bad. You are pregnant! he said, smiling. I couldnt think of a way to stop him from asking the next question, Is it mine? I attempted to laugh it off, but I knew by the looks on both their faces that I had some explaining to do. Michael spoke first. You said you didnt sleep with him! And Brendon responded immediately with, Oh, she slept with me all right, every which way

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you can imagine. Who the hell are you? I am her boyfriend and the babys father, Michael said, jumping off the bed and looking at me accusingly. Is it my baby, Christina? Dont lie like you did about the hospital. Tell me the truth, now! Who else have you been sleeping with? Thats funny, I thought I was her boyfriend, said Brendon, indignantly and arrogantly. When Michael spoke, he had just sounded hurt. I didnt know what to do, so I said the first thing that came to mind. Of course the baby is yours, Michael. I did what I had to do to survive and have a place to stay, but I love you. I used Brendon, nothing more, nothing less. Yeah, we did sleep together, but we used condoms. I was just manipulating him. You have to believe that its you I love and no one else. Of course the baby is yours. Fuck Christina, we used condoms, too! Michael yelled. I cant believe you werent going to tell me. I would have understood. Why did you keep it from me? You were using me? Brendon said, anger now in his voice. I had almost forgotten he was there because I was so worried about Michaels reaction. For what? Normally I might have tried to make something up, but the truth seemed more appropriate somehow. I didnt mind if he thought I was a nut case. In fact , that would be fine if it meant hed leave me alone. I escaped from a mental hospital, and we were running away together, I said, nodding at Michael for emphasis. We got separated, and I needed a ride to Utaline. Clearly stunned, Brendon rolled his wheelchair back a few feet and looked at both of us. You escaped from the psych ward and made me believe that you liked me so that you could have somewhere to hide out? He paused. Why did you have to trick me? I would have helped you ... You would have helped me? I said. You would have called the cops like any normal person! Listen, Im sorry, but I couldnt get caught. I needed to be sure that I was safe with you." I hope you are going back to the psych ward, you are clearly in need of some serious help. I started to say something, but Brendon interrupted. Is there any possibility the baby is mine? Michael sat back down on the bed but didnt hold me or sit close to me. No, I said. Michael looked crestfallen, as if he, too, wondered whose baby it was. I explained that Brendon and I had only had sex a few days ago and that it took longer than that for pregnancy hormones to build up in your system. Without a word, Michael pressed the nurse call button and when my regular evening nurse arrived, he asked if what I said was correct. She explained that a hospital pregnancy test checks the blood for the hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG.) That sort of test can give you positive results in

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about 7-10 days from conception, she said, and urine tests cant detect pregnancy that early. So, in a nutshell, I was wrong. I didnt want to admit it but Id had sex with both of them in the past seven days so it could be either boys baby. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wasnt sure if Michael was the type of guy that could overlook something that big. I mean, I knew that he loved me, but asking him to father someone elses child might be crossing a line, even for a love like ours. When I thought of all the crazy sex I had had with Brendon, it made me even more nervous. I had done it with him more times than with Michael. I tried to reason that that wouldnt make it more likely he was the father, but that notion had merit. After I promised to have a paternity test as soon as it was possible, Brendon left. I gave him my email address and the name of a hospital in Buffalo. I lied, telling him I was undergoing treatment at Buffalo General Hospital, not Bryleen. I didnt like the idea of him showing up, unannounced, and that was my way of preventing it. I wanted him gone, but I dreaded the moment he disappeared out the door, leaving me alone with Michael. I wasnt sure if he was just holding in his anger until we were alone, or if he was really handling this as well as it seemed. By the time Brendon wheeled himself out the door, I was in a near panic but trying to stay cool. Michael sat there looking at me for what seemed like a long time. Maybe a minute passed, perhaps less. He lowered his gaze to his hands, nestled in his lap. He let out a long sigh that chilled me to the bone. I didnt know what he was about to say, but that sigh was one of resignation for sure. He looked up again and his eyes were a little misty. I immediately started bawling but kept it under control so he could talk. I love you so fucking much, he said. His eyes even wetter now, he continued, I just dont know if I know you like I thought I did. He breathed a shaky, tearful breath, and I felt smaller and more disgusting than I ever had with my mother during any of her tirades. Hearing that emotion in his voice, knowing that in a weeks time I had brought him not only tears of joy but tears of sorrow, made me see my actions for what they were, if only for a moment. I thought I found the love of my life in you, he said. I thought you were too good to be true. Turns out, I might have been right about that. His voice was soft but deep. I dont understand why you thought you had to lie to me so much. You cant imagine how this feels. I was 100 percent honest with you about everything I was feeling and going through. That was such a hard time for me. You could have told me you were in jail for murder, and I would have stuck by you. To hear that only bits and pieces of what you told me were true makes me really sad. When I thought you were lying about the hospital to protect your pride I could understand it, but Christina you fucked

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that guy and didnt even tell me. I would have been disgusted and jealous, but I think I would have understood. And then another deep sigh. Please help me to understand cause I feel like things are spinning out of control. When Brendon said you belonged in the hospital ... His voice trailed off, but his implication was clear. He was wondering whether I was really crazy after all. Were the stories you told me true? He sounded so sad. Were you abused? Is your mother really crazy? I kept thinking if I could get my thoughts straight I could explain, but I couldnt come up with anything to say. Were you really raped? He whispered the last question as if he was afraid of the answer. He looked vacant, distant and increasingly angry. I had stopped crying because I was focused on listening to him. I wanted to start up again, but I felt too much shock. I realized that I had possibly ruined the only thing that ever meant anything to me in my life. Yes, I was raped! I said. I wanted to tell you everything. I tried so many times to just let it out but, I kept getting scared. I didnt know where to begin. I figured it would be best to tell you everything once we got to Utaline, once we were safe. He was looking me in the eye but his expression belied nothing. I was scared. Even if the Raven side of me wasnt authentic, I wished I could muster up some of her strength, or at least some of her appeal. After we got separated, I felt so guilty that I hadnt told you about the hospital because I knew you would find out about it from the police, I said. I guess I was hoping we could talk it all out on the ride home. No, Michael said, we need to talk it out here and now. I couldnt handle him being mad at me. If he broke up with me, I wouldnt have much reason for living. Maybe the baby, but if it wasnt his I didnt think I even wanted it. Of course we do, I said. Ill tell you everything, anything, you want to know. Please ask me. Did you know that they were looking for me and not just because of the car? They thought I hurt you. I was so ashamed because Id never hurt you, he said. His voice cracked when he said you, and his tone made it clear that he didnt necessarily believe that sentiment went both ways. He was sounding more detached by the minute. I knew I had to say something before he just ended it. I had to try to explain myself, but he kept talking and I kept listening. My mind raced but went nowhere. He didnt really wait for me to answer, he just kept asking questions. Is that why you changed your look so drastically? Is that why you were so scared? At first he seemed almost sympathetic, like he was sad that Id been scared. But I saw something click in his mind, a little flash of emotion across his face, an aha moment, if you will. You were scared because you had been lying to me the whole time. All of a sudden, his voice had a sinister edge to it. You would keep me in the dark, rather than give me the respect of trusting

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me. You left me vulnerable to protect yourself! Michael was livid now, and his voice was getting louder. Tears were streaming down my face, but he kept going. Is a few weeks in the hospital so embarrassing that you couldnt tell me about it, even after everything else we shared? I dont know what to think here Christina. How did you even know they suspected I hurt you. I saw a news report. There was an Amber Alert. And you couldnt point it out to me? It also said I had escaped from the psych ward, I said, trying to defend myself. I know I should have told you but I was scared and running on adrenaline. I didnt know they were going to catch you! I thought we would be okay. Im trying to understand, he said. But dont you see, I would have acted much differently if I knew the sort of manhunt that was going on. I never would have risked taking that car without you right next to me. I wouldnt have let you out of my sight. If I had known the truth, Christina, we would not be here right now, and you would not be on your way back to the hospital. He gave me a knowing nod, almost fatherly in its admonition but lacking any warmth. He was not only angry at me but disappointed and hurt. This was a disaster. And it was the exact reaction I had expected when he found out about Bryleen. I dont know what I thought he would say when he realized Id betrayed him, but this is the scene I was trying to avoid. I didnt want to talk about it, yet there I sat spilling all of it, in hopes of regaining his trust. I began to realize that I should have given myself up when I saw him sitting in that car outside the sandwich shop. I should never have tried to go on the run by myself. I should never have left him twisting in the wind like that. I fucked up royally. At that point, I could have explained about the hospital without everything deteriorating like it had now. My disappearance made him look guilty. I knew what he was facing, and I should have turned myself in. I did, in effect, throw him to the wolves. I was utterly selfish when I ran away. I tried to tell him that, but he cut me off. Do you know how it felt to be interrogated like that? Do you know what I went through after I got arrested? Not only was I scared to death for myself, but I was terrified for you! I was so worried when they didnt find you. Not because I was afraid Id go to jail, but because I thought you might be hurt. Turns out you were off fucking that guy, he said, shrugging sarcastically and waving his hand in the air in disgust. Im going for a walk before I completely lose it. He didnt give me time to protest; he was out the door before he finished the sentence. I had to give him credit for taking a breather instead of yelling some more. I knew about his temper so I appreciated it somewhere in the back of my mind. But watching him go was still hard to do. I just hoped he would be back soon. I didnt

think I could stand it if he made me wait until the morning.

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8. Ashes

As I walked out of her room and down the corridor, I had to will myself to keep from cursing out loud. I needed to keep it together until I was outside. I wanted to yell, to run, but that would have to wait. I counted backwards from 100 as I walked, a method suggested in an anger management pamphlet given to me by the same high school guidance counselor I called a fat ass. I wove my way through the hospital, avoiding elevators in an effort to use up some of the toxic energy that was building up inside of me. I tried desperately to remain focused. I had gotten out of her room just in time. My vision blurred a little as I reached the lobby. I wiped my face absently. As I neared the exit, an elderly woman stood waiting near the revolving door. I paused behind her as it rotated ever so slowly. I was surprised when she put her hand on my arm. She fished around in her pocket with the strangest look on her face. It was one part pity, one part sympathy. I felt dazed. She handed me a little package of tissue that she surely had swiped from the hospital. She had a couple of them. It was at that moment I realized angry tears had begun to slide down my cheeks. I took the tissues, nodded a thank you, and slipped out in front of her before she could say a word. I was too crushed to even be embarrassed. I crossed the street and jogged off in no particular direction. For the first mile or so, I did my best not to think. I needed to calm down. I ran until I couldnt breathe. I wasnt used to exercising in such high altitude, so I exhausted myself much more quickly than I would have in Buffalo. It was freezing. I was glad I grabbed my coat before I stormed out. Eventually, I let my mind wander to that first day in the park with Christina. Remembering how happy I had been made me feel so foolish and used. Still, I couldnt forget how much I loved her. I didnt know what to do. I found myself in City Park, walking along a trail that suddenly became thick with trees. It was exactly what I needed. There were few people around because of the late hour. I was sure the park was officially closed, though there was no gate keeping people out. I passed some tennis courts and followed a winding path, following signs that pointed to

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Duck Lake. It seemed as good a place as any to sit and think. I saw what looked to me like a drug deal and resolved to keep to myself, and to keep moving, until I was alone. It was very dark along the path. Despite the presence of a few street lamps, it was mostly shadows. I wondered if there were people I couldnt see who might be lurking there, and it made me nervous. I walked maybe halfway around the lake and found some trees growing close together and climbed into one of them. It wasnt high off the ground, maybe eight feet, but it was far enough away from everything else to allow me to feel alone. It was like a natural hideout, of sorts, and I was glad to have somewhere to rest that wasnt on the cold ground, a place where I could feel sheltered. If it werent for the moonlight, I might not have been able to climb up. It was hard to believe I was still in downtown Denver because I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. The darkness and my state of mind probably added to that effect. I wondered how Christina had lasted so long, alone in the mountains, and then I immediately felt a stab of pain in my heart. She was always on my mind. I forced thoughts of her away. Even this late into autumn, there were still some leaves hanging on the branches. I was relatively sure that in the dark, even if the trees were bare, no one could have seen me sitting there. I listened to the wind and looked out onto the cold water. There were no ducks at Duck Lake that night. I pulled my knees to my chest in my little hollow spot, and closed my eyes. Other than the occasional car horn or murmur of distant human voices, I was alone. I leaned against the branches, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, over and over again. I dont know how long I sat there before allowing myself to start thinking. I needed to decide what my response was going to be to all of this. Before I could do that, I needed to figure out how I really felt. My intense love for Christina hindered my thinking as much as it helped. I reasoned that if our love was a lie, it was the worst thing a person could possibly do to another person. If it wasnt, I shouldnt be hiding in a tree. I should be back with my girl, working things out. I wanted to believe that she loved me, that no matter what other details she altered to protect herself, the love part was real. But I couldnt be sure. I kept coming back to the fact that she had all that time in the car to tell me the truth about the hospital. She was scared, sure, but we were getting along so well there was no way anything could have changed that, especially if she told me she was scared. It would have been a non-issue. She has to have seen that. The indisputable truth was that everything had gone wrong when she saw me get arrested. She could have stopped it just by showing her face. Although I was the one who told her to run, she had left me without a lot of pertinent information. Had I known the true danger, I wouldve expected her to stay and tell the truth. I

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would never have turned my back on her like that, hospital or no hospital. That was the turning point for me, the point after which her decisions and lies seemed to take on a sinister edge. Perhaps it was her fear, or maybe it was something else. I had a right to know about the Amber Alert; there was no way around it. We wouldnt have to be worrying now whether I was the father of her baby if she had just been honest with me. The thought of her having a baby made my heart soar and sink at the same moment. I wondered if this was how it felt to be bipolar. She never would have met Brendon if she hadnt ditched me that night in front of the sandwich shop. Every time she had to make a decision, it seemed as if she made the wrong one. Either that or she is the type of person who only makes decisions based on how they affect her. I couldnt think of her as a sociopath, or maybe I just didnt want to. I could understand her making a lot of mistakes but I couldnt be sure thats what happened. I needed to know more about why she was in the hospital in the first place, more about her life up until then. I needed insight that only she or her history could provide. I didnt have enough information to make a decision, and I wasnt willing to abandon the way I felt about her until I was sure there was no other option. I knew I was going to have to go back. I needed to figure out a way to test her. I didnt want to be deceitful, but I had the right to know the truth and being straightforward about it wasnt an option.

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9. Spirit

When Michael finally came back, I was laying in the dimness of early morning, studying the tiny holes in the ceiling tiles. I couldnt handle anything more complicated than that while I waited, wondering if he would come back at all. I felt happy to see him, but it was fragile. I was afraid to ask where he had gone or to break the silence. He sat in the chair by my bed and looked at me, sizing me up, analyzing me. Something had changed in his expression, but he didnt look like he hated me. He didnt even look particularly mad. I waited for him to say something. I think we need a little time to sort things out, he began, speaking in a very confident tone. Im not willing to give up on us, but there have been so many lies that I dont know what to think right now. He looked me in the eye, and I felt goose bumps start to rise on my arms. I loved him so much and there he was, looking right through me. I want you to fly home with your mother. I cant leave you, but we need to start over. I trusted and loved you more than anyone, and you betrayed me. You say you didnt mean it, you tell me you were scared, but in a lot of ways I feel used. If it was anyone else Id walk away. He paused and took a few deep breaths. I still want to believe in our love. Maybe Im being selfish or crazy or both, but I think its worth trying. You really are going to have to work for it, though, because I feel like I dont know you at all. He leaned forward slightly, which I took as a good sign. The Christina I thought I knew was sweet and thoughtful. She loved me despite my flaws. I loved the sound of his voice with its cadence, like little drums, and the way his pupils dilated when he spoke. I imagined his heart beating under his shirt, which in turn led me to think about my own racing pulse. I couldnt imagine my life without him in it. It was hard to listen to what he was saying, but I knew it was important. The girl Im faced with right now threw me under the bus to save herself from going back to the psych ward, he said, raising his voice. Im terrified because I love you so much, but theres no way for me to know your true

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character right now. He said it with such force I thought maybe he had reconsidered his plan to give me another chance. My blood was cold with anxiety, and my hands were gross and clammy. Everything he said made my stomach drop a little farther. Meeting people online can be wonderful, but you really dont get to know someone unless they are in front of you on a daily basis, he said. We are proof of that. Im willing to work on it with you, babe, but were in this together. You need to focus on being honest and up front with me from now on. If I find out I cant trust you, no matter how much I care about you and our relationship, Ill walk away. I had no reason to believe that he wouldnt make good on the threat to leave. I knew I was lucky to have this last chance to save things. I have three questions for you, Christina. Can you prove to me that you werent lying about what was important? Can you convince me that you love me? And, most importantly, can you regain my trust? The first thought that crossed my mind was that if I knew for sure the baby was his, Id at least have some leverage in case things didnt go my way. I was puzzled by his little monologue; of course I was willing to prove all of those things to him. In fact, that was all I wanted the chance to do. The lump in my throat was nearly incapacitating, so all I could do was nod my head in agreement. I covered my face with my hands and whispered, I will. A minute later, after Id regained my composure, I looked up and saw that he was gone. I was shocked and devastated, but I refused to take it as a bad sign. I knew Michael was being reasonable and I knew this was going to be very hard. The only thing he asked me for was the one thing I found most difficult in the world: Honesty. He wanted the real me. I was used to manipulating reality to hide things. I lied to my teachers, my friends and even myself on a regular basis. Being deceitful was a normal part of my life; it was my defense mechanism. It started innocently enough, but eventually I had walled myself into my own little world and sometimes fantasy became reality. I used to be more aware about how wrong it was, but lately I let things get out of control. I rationalized a lot of my really bad behavior with Michael. I had lied to him from Day One, and most of the lying came naturally. After he left my room the night before, I tried to reflect. Why did I feel like I needed to protect myself from Michael? If I lied to insulate myself, I must have been afraid of something. I think a big part of me doesnt believe Im lovable. I dont know if that is something I can get over. Can you love yourself again after being so damaged? Can you allow other people to love you? Who can you trust?

Not only was I never accepted by my mother, but she abused me. Michael talked about betrayal, but he wouldnt and couldnt understand what the word even means. I was the one who understood. I knew it didnt give me the right to hurt him, but it was an excuse of sorts. I arrived back in Buffalo the following night, early on a frigid December evening. The police met us at the gate to take me back to the hospital, which I thought that was a bit unnecessary. They werent very nice to me, either. My mom accompanied me and saw that I settled in before going home. I was in a different ward this time, Maximum Security, Ward 3. The only good thing about it was my private room, even if I did get locked in every night. I didnt know psych wards were like prisons, with different levels of confinement depending on how crazy or dangerous you happened to be. I guess they werent about to risk having me run away again. I couldnt go anywhere by myself, not even to the bathroom or from the recreation room to the television room. If I forgot to ask for an escort, I was grounded in my room for the rest of the day. They were watching me like, well, like I was crazy. I couldnt fart without someone following me into the corner to see what I was up to. It sucked. The worst part was, in Ward 3 all the patients were way worse off than me. If I thought a naked granny was scary, well, lets just say I realized quickly that things could be a lot worse. Someone was always crying somewhere out of sight but well within earshot. It was chaotic and quite a bit scarier than last time. I didnt know how much work it would take to get to Ward 2 or better yet back to Ward 1, but I knew I didnt want to stay here very long. The fact that I was pregnant probably helped me a little. They were always willing to take me to the bathroom, and I was allowed to eat snacks. The other people on the ward were not always so lucky. I was also allowed to bow out of physical activities if I didnt feel like doing them, which was nice in theory. Obviously, Id never miss a chance to go outside and take a walk, even if it was freezing outside. There was a man in a wheelchair and a straitjacket that always sat in the television room staring at the wall. I kept wondering how he got there and if he had ever been like me, just confused and a little out of it. I feared I could end up like him. He always had that straitjacket on, and I wondered if they made him sleep like that, all tied up. It gave me the chills. I was still in therapy, of course, and I put forth a decent effort. I wanted help figuring out who I really was. I had a new counselor, and she was willing to listen to what I had to say about my mother. I didnt know if she believed me, but she did seem to care. I was slowly but surely opening up to her. Id been there about three weeks before I was allowed to use the telephone.

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Certain things were privileges and had to be earned. Phone and computer time were at the top of the list. I called Michael but he wasnt home. I spoke with John for a few minutes but he seemed a little distant and rushed me off the phone. Until that point, I had felt secure that Michael and I would be okay, but something about the phone call made me paranoid. I couldnt help but wonder if he really hadnt been home. I realized that in three entire weeks I hadnt received correspondence of any kind. No letters, no cards, not even any phone messages. I knew he said he needed time, but not being able to talk to him that day hurt a lot. It pushed me to the brink emotionally, and I missed him very much. I did my best to be a model patient so I could have daily computer time. We were only allowed a half hour, but it would have been plenty of time to reconnect. Every afternoon at 3 p.m., Id log on for my allotted time and hope to see his screen name on my list. It never was. I sent him one email, just to let him know I was allowed online and able to talk each day around the same time. It took me the entire half hour to compose the short little message. I figured it was reasonable, even if he had asked me for some distance to sort out his feelings. When he hadnt responded after a few days I told myself to stop hoping. I took his silence to mean that he had nothing left to say. I sank into a relatively dark mood after that. I spent the next few days obsessing over Michael, cursing myself for fucking up. Id lay in bed and talk to the baby at night. I promised him or her that Id make everything okay, then cry myself to sleep wondering how Id be able to keep that promise without Michael in my life. I stuck to my goodbehavior plan as best I could and ended up with computer time three or four days a week. Each day I sat there, watching my friend list and waiting for his name to appear. After a while it occurred to me that he could have blocked me. I decided to create another screen name to find out. I was really sad to find out that I had been right. Seeing his name on the screen, staring back at me, the sole name on the fake friend list, made me very emotional. I couldnt believe he could just cut me off like that. I linked the new screen name with my other one so I could sign on to either or both when I was online. I was dying to say hello but I couldnt. He would reject me again, and my heart was already broken. I didnt want to read the words he might say. I would rather imagine him hating me than know for sure how he felt. I couldnt believe he blocked me, blocked us. He couldnt just ignore the baby, could he? I had to know why he did it. I knew it was wrong but I decided to talk to him, pretending to be someone else. bitevil: hey!

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gamer14213: hi.. whos this? bitevil: Jamie, you gave me ur sn a while back at timos house gamer14213: hm, sry i dont remember u.. wat u look like? bitevil: it was at his birthday party.. Blonde in a red tank and tight jeans.. ring any bells? gamer14213: yea.. sry.. still dont. u sound cute but I have a gf... and actually i gotta run, time for work. He didnt even give the fake me time to flirt, much less see how he was doing. It was probably better that way, considering the hole I can dig for myself when I feel threatened. Him blocking me made me feel trapped. I didnt want to appear psychotic, but I also didnt want to lose him. I wondered if he really had gotten a job or if he was just trying to fluff Jamie off. It made me feel better that he wasnt interested in beautiful strangers of whom he had no recollection, but not that much better. What if the girlfriend he spoke of wasnt me? What if, what if, what if ... I felt myself on the verge of a panic attack. I wanted to remain in control and told myself that if I flipped out theyd just take me in my room and tie me up. Being pregnant made them reticent to sedate me, in fact I wasnt on any medications because most of them could have possible side effects on the baby. I didnt think I needed it anyway, so it was an easy decision. Id never take medicine that could hurt the baby. I knew that being lashed to the bed would not help me with a panic attack. That was enough to help keep me in check, well that and the breathing exercises we learned in therapy. I hadnt realized it, but my computer time was up. Beverly, the regular evening-shift nurse, a beautiful, smooth-skinned black woman with perfectly coifed hair and nails, was there to tell me so. Even though she wore the same uniform as the other nurses, she was the only one who pulled it off with any style. I would not have been surprised if it was tailored. But today Beverly wasnt as cool as usual. Instead of vacantly addressing me from the doorway, I found her standing next to me with her hand tentatively on my shoulder. I was sobbing. I had been able to ward off the panic attack, but couldnt hold off my emotions completely. She knew Id been hoping to hear from my boyfriend, as did most of the staff. As I stood up to be led to my room, I wiped at my face with the backs of my hands and we just stood there for a second. The nurse smoothed my hair back and momentarily placed her palm on my belly, which was still barely visible at that point in the pregnancy. It was oddly reassuring to know that she understood what I was feeling and why. If she had tried to hug me, I would have let her. It was only a short moment of connection between us, but it made me feel better. I knew she had kids because

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her office was peppered with photos of her babies and grandbabies. I imagined my baby floating inside me and told myself that Michael couldnt possibly abandon it. And if he was dumb enough to do that, well, Id always be there. I went directly to bed that night and slept rather well considering everything that was going on in my life. The next day was filled with Christmas festivities. I had nearly forgotten the holiday was coming since I was missing the usual Corporate Christmas explosion you see all over the place at this time of year. All of a sudden it was Dec. 24. I sat out the tree decorating but it was fun to watch everyone else. Mostly the staff did the work while the entire ward, minus myself and straitjacket guy, manhandled the ornaments and strings of lights. I could see why they only put the tree up for the day. It wouldnt have lasted any longer than that. I found myself laughing more than once and even got off the couch to join the group, although I still didnt help them. I wasnt being lazy, it was just that my mother was so controlling while we decorated our tree at home that the idea of hanging ornaments left a bad taste in my mouth. It didnt strike me as a fun activity. Its funny how dumb stuff like that can stress you out. When they brought out the ingredients to make Christmas cookies, I felt homesick for the first time since Id been admitted to the hospital. Maybe it was the fact that the ingredients were nothing more than a tub of cookie dough and the utensils were a cookie sheet and some extremely blunt plastic knives. Maybe it was because the Christmas season reminded me so much of my grandmother and the fun times we had as a family opening our presents and stuff. I thought of my sister and wondered if she was missing me. I hadnt seen her in so long. I was worried about her. I began to look forward to the morning. They were letting me go home for eight whole hours. My mother was going to pick me up at 10 a.m. and I didnt have to be back until 6 that night! I didnt care that I had to wear an ankle bracelet with a tracking device; I wasnt planning on running off anywhere. I was just happy to be leaving the third floor of Bryleen, even for just the day. Only two people from Ward 3 were being allowed a day pass, which made me feel doubly lucky. As we backed down the driveway into my mothers parking spot, I felt a familiar sense of dread wash over me. I was home. The pit of my stomach was sour and cold. If there were butterflies down there, they were venomous ones. I stepped out of the car into the snow and walked slowly toward the door. My mother had been pleasant on the short ride from the hospital, and I tried to remember how much I had wanted to come home last night. I was surprised to see that except for a few red and white poinsettias on the

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dining room table and lights strung across the mantle the house wasnt decorated. I smiled a sick little smile to myself, realizing that the reason the house wasnt decorated was because I hadnt been here to do the work. I looked around. The place was a little dustier, perhaps, but other than that everything looked pretty much the same as it had on that fateful morning that changed everything. I wondered where my sister could be; Id expected her to bound down the stairs when she heard the door open but she still hadnt appeared. I was about to call out to her when my mother told me to run up to my room and see if Giana was finished putting new sheets on my bed. I didnt like the idea of her doing that for me; I was perfectly capable. My mother seemed a little off, but I couldnt put my finger on why. She didnt sound as snide as Id remembered. I could swear she was cheerful. Not just acting cheerful, mind you, but literally happy. I didnt know how to take it. I tried not to wait for the other shoe to drop, but I wondered when shed explode. I mean that is who she is and that is what she does. I walked up the carpeted, well-worn-but-still-beautiful mahogany staircase. I ran my hand on the banister as I jogged up and was reminded of a million other times Id walked up or down these stairs. It was nice to have something familiar around. The hospital was so cold and lackluster that it really felt good to be home, at least for the time being. My door was closed, and I thought it was odd because she was only changing the sheets. I turned the knob without knocking and pushed the door over the carpeting, another familiar, homey sensation. It took me a minute to take in the scene before me. It was my room, but then again, it wasnt. Giana sat beaming, cross-legged on my bed, which was made up with a comforter and pillows Id never seen before. They had a geometric pattern in red, black and white. I really liked it; the colors were perfect and the design was trippy. Even better, the blanket on my bed matched the sheets and layette in the pretty little crib that stood in front of the windows. Someone had expertly rearranged my bedroom to create a nursery and still keep the integrity of my room intact. Theyd moved the throw rugs and furniture around to optimize the space, and it looked beautiful. I wondered if Giana had done this. She couldnt have, at least not by herself. There was even a curtain to separate the two sleeping areas. Next to the crib, facing away from me, was a gorgeous, antiquelooking rocking chair. Draped over the back of it was a beautiful, fluffy, brown blanket. The rocking chair wood perfectly matched the cribs wood. It was a gorgeous set. It looked antique, and I couldnt imagine where it came from. I was

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still standing in the doorway, in shock, when Giana finally spoke. Well? she asked. I ... I love it! How did you pull this off? I said. The room smelled of fresh paint. The color was still basically the same pale grey, but it was new, nice and clean. I was surprised to see the rocking chair suddenly begin to move back and forth. My sister flopped backward onto the massive pile of bed pillows and sighed conspiratorially, I had a little help. Just then a pair of legs appeared on the floor in front of the chair, then a hand on the arm. When he stood up, my knees went weak. Michael! I screamed his name. From somewhere deep inside me, I could feel it echoing. I had been whispering his name to myself repeatedly since I last saw him, but now that he was in front of me, it was as if we had never been apart. I hadnt been expecting any Christmas presents, so this was almost more than I could handle. I bounded toward him, falling into his arms and sobbing. I probably would have stayed there all day if my sister hadnt spoken up. I didnt even think to ask him where he had been or why he had ignored me for so long. I was just so happy to see him. Ewwwww! Get a room! she squealed, jokingly, but at the same time completely serious. I didnt blame her. I wouldnt want to watch that, either. I turned around, still leaning on Michael, his hands resting on my hips. I noticed a little refrigerator/microwave combination where my nightstand used to be, perfect for warming up bottles or snacks. It was like my own little apartment. Id only have to leave to go to the bathroom. I couldnt stop smiling. I couldnt have been happier if it were a dream. It was perfect. I launched myself onto the bed next to my sister and grabbed her in a bear hug. I could feel Michael join us on the bed, but my eyes were closed. It felt so good to be with my sister. She was crying, and it broke my heart. I had so much going on that I hadnt had the time to properly miss her. All I could do was hug her for what seemed like ages. Even though it was open, there was a knock on the door. Then in walked my mother carrying a tray of Christmas cookies from Russs Bakery on the west side of the city. They looked delicious. I released my grip on Giana and the three of us sort of slumped together on the pillows. I lovingly eyed the French-press coffee she had on the tray but I knew it wouldnt be good for the baby. As if she read my mind she pointed to the cup of hot chocolate and winked at me. I had assumed it was for Giana, but, alas, it was for me. I missed being able to have coffee, but I loved my baby. Oh, but it smelled so great, much better than in the psych ward served out of Styrofoam. We sat on the bed, with my mother in the rocker, and the four of us just talked,

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ate and laughed for a long time. It was the most laid back I had ever seen my mom, especially on a holiday. We didnt even turn on my television; it was just us entertaining ourselves. She asked me what I thought of my room. She told me that she bought the matching comforter and layette sets from a parenting magazine, and that the shapes and colors would stimulate the baby. I was a little shocked to hear that shed had a hand in creating the nursery. She actually seemed excited about the baby, which was nice to hear but surprising, to say the very least. By the time we finally went downstairs, I had surely eaten enough cookies for two, perhaps three, and didnt feel the slightest bit guilty. Pregnancy and a diet of hospital food for months made sure of that. It was obvious that Michael had been spending time at the house. He knew where the cups were in the kitchen and he turned on the television without asking. He even helped my mother set the table for dinner without having to inquire where we kept anything. I wasnt sure how to take them being such good friends. Did he not remember the stories I told him about her? We hadnt had any time alone for me to ask him any of the mountain of questions I had in reserve. I decided that it was time for a little privacy. My mother was in the kitchen, Giana was watching some Christmas parade on television and the two of us were left standing awkwardly in the dining room. Lets take a little walk, he suggested. I was more than glad to have him make the first move. I was afraid he wasnt going to continue to talk to me, afraid hed leave if I said the wrong thing. He handed me my coat and we went into the backyard. Though snow covered, it was beautiful. I especially loved my yard in the summer, and I hoped I would be home again by the time the plants started sprouting in the flower beds that were spread out strategically around the yard. We sat close on a wrought-iron bench that was on the little stone patio my grandfather built when my parents bought this house. It was good to feel him next to me. I knew we had important things to talk about, but the need to grab him and kiss him overwhelmed me. I took his face in my hands, guiding our lips together. He hesitated for just a second, then gave in. After a nice, long moment, he gently but firmly pushed me away. The look in his eyes told me he was planning a serious talk. I dont know if I would be sitting here in front of you right now if it werent for the baby, he said. I dont think I could have found it in my heart to forgive you if we didnt share that. I expected him to say something like that, but it still stung. I know you have been needing to talk to me and trying to get in touch, he continued. Ive kept you at bay for a few different reasons. First of all, I

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needed time to get over my anger about your lying and cheating. He held up his hand, a signal that I couldnt interrupt. You say you had to do it, but if that really was the case and you thought you didnt do anything wrong, you wouldnt have hidden it from me. I also wanted to get to know your family. I have been spending a lot of time here. Giana is adorable, and she really loves you. Your mother cooks for me almost every night. She was a little hard to win over but I think she is really starting to trust me. I approached her with the idea of making your room into a more proper nursery as soon as you got back to Buffalo. Ive been sanding, priming and painting as often as possible. Ive been trying to help out around the house any way that I can. He pointed to the garage, and I realized that all the windows had been replaced, as had the old manual-entry door. I assumed the new door had a remote opener so wed never again have to get out and yank it open in the often sub-zero temperatures in this city. Priceless. Weve had a nice day, Christina, but our relationship needs a lot of work, Michael said. I trusted you, and my trust was betrayed. I knew I should be listening to him but all I could think about was my mother worming her way into my relationship with Michael. How could you get close to my mother when you know everything she has done to me? I said. Your mother has explained a lot to me, he said. Were you even listening to me? I told you she would try to get to you. I warned you about that, I said. Christina, you are not going to get better if you dont stop lying to yourself, Michael said. I took that last comment like a slap in the face. How could you take her side over mine? I said. Dont you remember the stories I told you about her? I hate my mother, and you know that. Hate is a strong word, Christina. I jumped when I heard my mothers car horn honking. I hadnt seen her walk past us or noticed her drive by in the car. She was at the end of the driveway, waiting for me. It was time to go. She must have heard at least a little bit of the exchange Michael and I just had. I didnt know which was worse, realizing that she had sucked him in or knowing she got to see me slapped with that reality firsthand. I shuddered, stood and walked slowly to the car, never looking back or saying goodbye to Michael. I knew I had to plan my next move very carefully. I jumped into the back seat with my sister because I didnt want to sit near my mother. My gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. She didnt say a word, but she had victory written all over her face. --- END ---