is overwhelming. I cry out in frustration but Marta only holds me tighter. “Take your pills, they’ll help.”
I hate the pills. They make me forget. But if I can’t cut, I have no other choice. I frantically reach for the pile next to me and pop them in my mouth, swallowing them without water.
At first nothing happens and I continue pulling at my thin t-shirt. It’s not tight, but it feels like a tourniquet wrapped around my heart.
“Slow breath s. In and out,” Marta keeps repeating.
I try to inhale deeply, but it hurts too much. I’m forced into quick, shallow breaths that leave me lightheaded.
“Relax. Think about something that makes you happy.”
I draw up images of things that used to make me happy—the beach, cheerleading with Jenna, watching the stars with JC—but they don’t work. They’re just more reminders of what I’ve lost. I gouge my palms into my eyes and cry out again.
Marta begins humming something I don’t recognize. It’s slow, but peaceful. I focus on her voice. Quiet. Strong. Uplifting.
She continues humming for a long while. I’m not entirely sure how long, but eventually, I start to feel better. My breathing becomes regular again. The pain dissipates. The urge to cut passes. When my muscles finally relax, she loosens her grip and looks into my eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
I just shake my head. It is my fault. Not only Jenna’s death, but also what happened in the woods.
*****
About an hour later, I’m feeling numb again thanks to the meds. I turn JC’s journal over in my hands and wonder if I’m in the right state of mind to return to it. After what happened earlier, I’m a little hesitant, but I want to read his words. I want to feel him again.
With a sigh, I open the cover and flip to where I left off. Hopefully Marta will help me again if I melt down once more.
Day 4: Today was a nice day. The two highlights were learning how to fly fish and actually making Mal laugh. To be honest, “learning” might be an overstatement since I didn’t catch anything, but I do have the basics of the technique down. With another twenty-six days out here, I should have plenty of time to perfect it. It is true, though, Mal smiled and laughed today. I almost fell to the ground I was so surprised that her gruff exterior was crumbling. Something bad happened to her. I can tell by the way her eyes glaze over and I completely lose her as she focuses on something no one else can see. I know. I’ve been there.
I hate Bling. The last two days, I’ve caught him staring at me numerous times with a confident sneer like he knows something I don’t. He screams “Crew” to me, but he can’t be. There’s no way they’d let someone from that gang be here with me. That was the whole reason I was sent to Wilderness Therapy. They wanted to put me far away from those intent on killing me.
I draw in a sharp breath after reading the last sentence. JC was being hunted down by a gang? Was he involved in gang activity? I could see that from Bling, but not JC. He didn’t dress the part. He seemed too educated to be involved in something like that. Plus, he was just way too nice. Bling scared the shit out of me like gang members are supposed to. That wasn’t the case with JC.
And why didn’t JC tell me he had fears of Bling? I told him all the time how frightened I was, but JC never indicated he was. Later in the trip, it was clear he didn’t like him, but I thought that all stemmed from the first accident.
I shiver thinking about those accidents. JC was the most athletic guy out there so it never made sense how he was always the victim. Unless there was more to the story.
With my happy pills on board, I close my eyes and remember the day of the first accident and how scared I was. It was also the first day I ever told anyone the
I hate the pills. They make me forget. But if I can’t cut, I have no other choice. I frantically reach for the pile next to me and pop them in my mouth, swallowing them without water.
At first nothing happens and I continue pulling at my thin t-shirt. It’s not tight, but it feels like a tourniquet wrapped around my heart.
“Slow breath s. In and out,” Marta keeps repeating.
I try to inhale deeply, but it hurts too much. I’m forced into quick, shallow breaths that leave me lightheaded.
“Relax. Think about something that makes you happy.”
I draw up images of things that used to make me happy—the beach, cheerleading with Jenna, watching the stars with JC—but they don’t work. They’re just more reminders of what I’ve lost. I gouge my palms into my eyes and cry out again.
Marta begins humming something I don’t recognize. It’s slow, but peaceful. I focus on her voice. Quiet. Strong. Uplifting.
She continues humming for a long while. I’m not entirely sure how long, but eventually, I start to feel better. My breathing becomes regular again. The pain dissipates. The urge to cut passes. When my muscles finally relax, she loosens her grip and looks into my eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
I just shake my head. It is my fault. Not only Jenna’s death, but also what happened in the woods.
*****
About an hour later, I’m feeling numb again thanks to the meds. I turn JC’s journal over in my hands and wonder if I’m in the right state of mind to return to it. After what happened earlier, I’m a little hesitant, but I want to read his words. I want to feel him again.
With a sigh, I open the cover and flip to where I left off. Hopefully Marta will help me again if I melt down once more.
Day 4: Today was a nice day. The two highlights were learning how to fly fish and actually making Mal laugh. To be honest, “learning” might be an overstatement since I didn’t catch anything, but I do have the basics of the technique down. With another twenty-six days out here, I should have plenty of time to perfect it. It is true, though, Mal smiled and laughed today. I almost fell to the ground I was so surprised that her gruff exterior was crumbling. Something bad happened to her. I can tell by the way her eyes glaze over and I completely lose her as she focuses on something no one else can see. I know. I’ve been there.
I hate Bling. The last two days, I’ve caught him staring at me numerous times with a confident sneer like he knows something I don’t. He screams “Crew” to me, but he can’t be. There’s no way they’d let someone from that gang be here with me. That was the whole reason I was sent to Wilderness Therapy. They wanted to put me far away from those intent on killing me.
I draw in a sharp breath after reading the last sentence. JC was being hunted down by a gang? Was he involved in gang activity? I could see that from Bling, but not JC. He didn’t dress the part. He seemed too educated to be involved in something like that. Plus, he was just way too nice. Bling scared the shit out of me like gang members are supposed to. That wasn’t the case with JC.
And why didn’t JC tell me he had fears of Bling? I told him all the time how frightened I was, but JC never indicated he was. Later in the trip, it was clear he didn’t like him, but I thought that all stemmed from the first accident.
I shiver thinking about those accidents. JC was the most athletic guy out there so it never made sense how he was always the victim. Unless there was more to the story.
With my happy pills on board, I close my eyes and remember the day of the first accident and how scared I was. It was also the first day I ever told anyone the
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