Praying it doesn’t end just yet.
Chapter 4Chase
Images flicker behind my eyes. Dreams, memories, a tie-dye swirl.
Stella’s voice trickles through me.
“My brave little Toaster…”
My brave little sister.
Water fills my lungs, and I choke on chlorine. My vision muddles, my feet skid against a wet surface, my voice howls with an inhuman sound. Everything is garbled, muddy, wrong.
I can’t breathe.
Someone is singing. Not Stella.
A girl.
My hand extends, reaching. I see blood. It starts at my fingertips, seeps under my nails, travels up the length of my arm until it takes me over. A costume, a morbid disguise.
Pain shreds my leg.
A gunshot pierces the air, vibrating my skull. More blood, drenching my jeans, fusing fabric to skin. My knees buckle.
Ice-cold water pulls me under.
Then that voice returns.
Soft, urgent. The girl.
“Stay with me.”
The weight of her hand presses against my chest, grounding me. A different kind of drowning. A different kind of rescue.
My lungs strain, dragging in breath after breath. Chlorine. Gunpowder. Perfume. My sister’s laugh curls around the edges of it all.
The past bleeds into the present.
Stella is gone.
But someone else is here.
And as my eyes crack open, one at a time, I realize—
So am I.
***
There is nothing quite as sobering as leaving the hospital after major surgery with no one on speed dial and no friends or family waiting with smiles and bouquets. No reunion hugs, no happy tears, no speakerphone group calls with relatives across the country squealing with profound relief at your recovery.
There is only silence.
I realize I’ve forgotten what real happiness is. Every day for years, I’ve woken up, and I’m just trying to survive.
Today is no different.
Snow blankets the ground in a patchwork of white, gray, and brown. Exhaust fumes, oil spills, piss, and mud. I stare at it for a long time as I wait on the hospital curb in my freshly washed clothes, courtesy of Nurse Janelle. Bloodstains are a bitch. The snow will melt into plush green grass and colorful flower buds, but there is no washing away the evidence of the second-worst night of my life.
