I hop on the back, not about to be left behind, not that I would stay here, but whatever. This just seems easier and like Anaita said, I like the easy road best.
He peels out and automatically my arms go around his waist. I pull back, not wanting to sit close enough to touch him. “Where are we going?” I yell into the wind.
If he hears me, he doesn't answer.
“I need you to leave,” he says, pulling into a deserted parking lot. “Get off.”
“You want to dump me here in the middle of nowhere?” I can’t believe he's kicking me off his bike. I shouldn't take it personally, but I do—like I'm defective in some way.
Rejected, I get off. He smiles and takes off down the road at break-neck speed. Then it hits me. He's going to commit his crime. I don't know how I know it, but I do. With frightening clarity.
The sun descends and brilliant colors of pink and orange paint the early evening sky. It should be a beautiful, peaceful moment. Instead, an intense, jittery feeling consumes me, like I've had too much caffeine. I feel sick, like I've already failed.
I close my eyes, hating the fact that I have to go chasing after Brecken. I hate following him like a pathetic, lost puppy, begging for his master's attention, but I have to try one more time.
Just like always, I feel that tug in my center and immediately I appear at his side on a backyard porch.
A pool glistens behind us, reflecting the pastel colors of the radiant sky. A fenced basketball court sits off to our right surrounded by wide, green lawns, and a wrought iron table and chairs are situated left of the door. The morning paper still flutters in the late afternoon breeze.
“Brecken, please don't do this.”
He stops, his hand on the brass handle. “Go away.”
“I can't.” I'm not sure what else to say.
“Then wait here.” He pushes the door open and steps inside. I follow him into a wide, open kitchen with stainless steel fixtures and white cupboards.
It’s one of the most beautiful kitchens I've ever seen. “Wow.”
Brecken ignores me and hurries to a long staircase. He runs up to the first floor and pushes open a bedroom door.
That's when the rumbling starts. He freezes, and I try to pinpoint the source of the familiar sound. “Garage door,” I whisper in horror.
Brecken hesitates momentarily, then turns and flies down the stairs, ready to tear through the front door, but seeing someone's distorted form through the beveled glass, he runs back toward the kitchen. I follow him, fearful of getting caught as though I am the one performing the robbery. My mind races, thinking only of escape.
The front door opens behind us. A mother's voice rings through the halls all the way to the kitchen. “Take off your shoes, Chloe.” She sounds happy, full of energy. The way my mother used to sound. She has no idea we are there, no idea she should be afraid, that a thief is in her house, her haven, her safe place.
I glance at Brecken. Instead of the angry, guiltless expression of a seasoned criminal, I see dread, remorse, sadness, and terror. He doesn't hide or search for a weapon to hurt the woman with. He doesn't grab anything valuable.
He runs.
Runs like the hounds of hell are after him. He pulls open the back door with lightning speed, barrels across the backyard past the pool, and then amazingly, he vaults over a six-foot vinyl fence, tearing through a side yard where his motorcycle waits. He straddles the seat and turns the key. The bike revs to life, and Brecken drives away, his dark hair whipping around his horrified face.
I don't go with him, but study the house where his bike had been parked. It takes only a moment, but I quickly realize that it's the same house where he got the envelope of money.
Nice neighbor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
~Despair~
Brecken
The theft is a complete bust and Brecken is beyond embarrassed and ashamed. His stomach twists and his heart aches as he drives up to the campground at the mouth of the canyon and turns into a small parking lot. He pulls off his helmet with an exhausted sigh and sets it on his knee.
Searching his surroundings, he decides to take a walk down the deserted path, and stops at the third picnic area on the right. He stares at the scenery. The familiarity of the trees, the fire-pit, the shallow stream. Without warning, tears spring to his eyes. His family used to come here every Sunday. Every weekend before...
He remembers holding a hotdog over the fire on a flimsy Willow branch. His sisters were little and had to have help. He felt so big and important, and proud that his parents would let him do it alone. Those peaceful, sunset-filled nights are over, never to be relived except in his mind.
What does his mother think now? Does she know how lost he feels? Is she the reason the guardians keep coming?
At first, he liked the “guardians”, as they call themselves. They would play games with him when he was little and make him laugh. His parents thought it was sweet that he played with invisible friends. When he grew older, it wasn't funny anymore, and over the last few years, the guardians started driving him crazy. He hated having them watching over his shoulder, and all they did was criticize, correct him, and tell him what a loser he'd become.
Sitting on a bench, Brecken stares into the water. He'd give anything to go back in time, to be able to change the future, to save his mom. But that isn't possible, and dreaming about it won't change anything. He clenches his teeth and wipes his cheeks.
He doesn't know where to turn or what to do next. If he gets caught stealing, he'll go to jail. He knows that, and he's old enough to be prosecuted as an adult. Who would take care of his sisters? His aunt lives nearby, but she's busy with her own family. Brecken's dad makes everything sound fine to friends and relatives.
Well, they aren't fine, and Brecken is at the end of his rope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
~A Raging Heart~
Alisa
A short time later, I find Brecken sitting at a picnic table in a scenic, tree-filled canyon. His bike is parked in the nearby parking lot, and his helmet rests on the bench beside him. With a hanging head, he props his arms over his knees. He looks miserable.
As well he should.
I sit next to him, not knowing what to say. I glance around. A stream runs through the center of the peaceful mountain park, and picnic tables are strategically placed throughout with fire pits close by. Green and refreshing—it is the first place I've been where I feel comfortable. “Wow. I love it. What is this place?”
He pushes away from the table and sits farther away on a large boulder. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, making the sun glisten against the silky strands. “I can't do this,” he says, ignoring my question.
“Thank heavens,” I sigh in relief. “That was terrible.”
He rubs his hands up and down his face. “I just... I just don't know what to do anymore.”
I move over beside him. I can't take his sad expression and slumped shoulders anymore. I place my hand on his arm tentatively. Will he shrug me away? Will he reject me again? He doesn't. He doesn't even act like he can feel me.
Feelings of frustration and hopelessness wash over me, followed by shame and embarrassment for what he's just done. All the heartbreak, the deep sense of responsibility, and hopelessness at his situation crash into me like a wild ocean wave.
I let go of his arm to clear my mind of all the overwhelming grief he's just dumped on me. “Oh, Brecken... I didn't know.”
“It's not your problem.”
“It is,” I say, shaking my head. “I just didn't realize you were so unhappy.”
“I'm not unhappy. I'm irritated. I need money, and I don't want you following me around, ruining my life. I don't want people to look at me like I'm a freak, and I don't want to start taking my meds again, which is exactly what will happen if you're around, hounding me all the time.”
“Don't sugarcoat it or anything.” I don't need his permission to be here, but it feels like I do. It's like hi
gh school all over again, and a deep ache fills my heart. I hate myself for letting his comment sting. What do I care if he wants me around or not?
Because... just because.
Granted, I watched him do something really stupid and almost get caught. He's embarrassed. Ashamed. He's lashing out. But Raphael should have sent an adult guardian to this damaged kid. I don't know how to handle Brecken, how to influence him, or how to make a difference.
“Hey, don't take it personal,” he says, as though he can read my mind. “I don't want any of you around.”
I turn, angry at his flippant tone. “And how do you think I feel? I can't stand guys like you.”
“Guys like me? What's that supposed to mean?” He searches the campsite, looking for me.
“Druggies, drunks, grease heads, losers!” I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I shouldn't have said them. But when it comes to boys, I get offended easily. I don't trust them, and I refuse to let one hurt me now. “You're all alike!” I blurt. “Perverts and liars.” Well, except for my dad and brothers, but they are exceptions to the rule.
He stares at where he thinks I stand, his face a mask of controlled rage. “You don't know me. You have no idea who I am or where I come from. You can't judge me.” His eyes narrow, and he calls me a few choice names, then stalks away, further up the mountain path.
He's right, but I'm too angry to apologize. Angry at being dead, angry at Natty for dying and leaving me, and angry that I had to see Mr. Roland again.
Ever since I've been back from my visit to Soul Prison, I can't think straight. Mr. Roland's horrid memory taunts me, always at the back of my mind. The whole situation feels massively overwhelming. I let my face fall into my hands as sorrow washes over me.
A soft hand presses against my shoulder. “Alisa.”
I turn to see Gram's warm smile, the light around her, radiant and sparkling. I throw myself into her arms and let my heartache out. She pats my back, murmuring sweet things like she used to. “I know it's hard, dear, but there is a solution.”
I pull back and gaze into her eyes. “A solution?”
“Of course, Alisa. There's always a solution. Forgiveness. That is the only way.” She nods, smoothing my hair and kissing my forehead.
“Forgiveness? But Brecken didn’t really say anything wrong. I deserve what he said.”
She smiles and takes my head. “I'm not talking about your charge, Alisa.”
I'm confused for a moment, and then I know who she is talking about. I pull away, feeling betrayed. Why would she bring him up? She knows nothing about it. I never confided in her, my closest relative, about the terrible abuse I suffered at Mr. Roland's hands. I'm not about to forgive him, and no one who's gone through what I did would tell me to.
She takes my hand again. “You're letting the abuse continue by not letting it go. You have to let it go. Once you do, you'll be free. It affects everything, Alisa. Everything. This is part of the process.”
I yank away. She doesn't understand. She wasn't the one raped by her neighbor, and then locked in the closet while her best friend was raped too. She wasn't smacked repeatedly across the face, or tortured with all the bad things he'd do to my family if I told. She wasn't the one violated and betrayed. She didn't hide in fear under the bed while listening to her dearest friend scream in agony.
“I don't care, Gram! I hate him. I will always hate him. I'm glad he's roasting in hell, and I hope he stays there forever. I will never forgive him! Never!”
I stalk away. It's the first time I've ever walked out on my grandmother, but I don't care.
I have bigger problems to deal with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
~Realization~
Alisa
I worry all the next day. Worry about my mom, worry about my brothers, and worry about failing this assignment.
Brecken and I don't speak of the break-in again, although it's always the white elephant in the room. I also worry about the advice Gram gave me at the canyon park. Her words stick in my head like tiny parasites, nibbling away, and I can't get them out. The more I try to ignore the whole thing about forgiveness, the louder it screams in my mind.
How am I going to focus when I can't stop thinking about Mr. Roland? I killed myself so I would stop thinking about him and all my other grief, and here I am, still tormented.
It's Saturday, so I don't have to follow Brecken to school, but to be honest, I would have preferred to be there. Less opportunity for him to get into trouble, or for me to watch him get into trouble.
Thankfully, he slept in and now reclines on the sofa, eating cold cereal. Saturday morning cartoons blare on the TV, and Heidi and Sophie move around the kitchen getting breakfast too. It almost feels like home, and I yearn to taste the crispy sweetness of Brecken's Fruit Loops too.
Crunchy cereal, ice-cold milk. Yum.
“So, what are we doing today?” I ask, my eyes riveted to SpongeBob. “Hopefully not rob the neighbors.”
“We aren't doing anything. Fun or otherwise.”
I roll my eyes at his comment. Like he can do anything about it. “I'm going to follow you wherever you go, so please make the day as interesting as possible.” I smile conspiratorially because it's not too bright in the living room. Maybe he can see my wicked grin.
“Huh? What did you say?” Heidi asks, finishing her cereal. “We're going to do something fun? Oh, please yes. I'm so bored.”
He glances at her over the back of the couch. “Uh... ”
“Can we go to the zoo?” Sophie asks, jumping out of her seat and running over to Brecken. “I haven't been to the zoo in forever!”
Brecken turns to me, or to where I am sitting at least, and scowls. He doesn't say anything, but glances at Sophie's hopeful face. “Let me see how much money Dad left. Okay?”
“Yippee!” Sophie claps her hands and runs to her room. “I'm going to wear my new pink shorts,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Can I invite a friend?” Heidi asks. “It's boring with just you and Sophie.”
She is obviously growing up, and I don't blame her for wanting to bring a friend. I would have wanted that at her age too, and the zoo sounds like a fun, safe place to hang out for the day.
“I'm not paying for anyone else,” Brecken answers. “She'll have to bring her own money, but I guess I don't care.”
“Cool.” Heidi hurries to the phone and begins punching numbers as she walks down the hall to her room.
“That was really nice of you.” I recline, laying my arm on the back of the couch. “You're a really good brother.”
He snorts and looks away. “And mother, and father, and babysitter.”
“Where is your dad anyway?” I haven't seen him since I arrived.
“He works. A lot. And he's out of town at the moment.” Brecken grabs the remote and starts flipping through the channels.
“My dad works a lot too, but he is always home at night. I miss that—seeing him come in and plop down beside me, asking me about my day. What does your dad do?”
“What does yours do?” he counters, avoiding my question. Very clever.
“Um, my dad is an accountant. Pretty boring, but he likes to take us rafting and camping and stuff like that.” The more I think about it, the sadder I feel. I'll never go camping again. I'll never sit by a smoky fire making s'mores, or get to sleep on the hard ground in a tent again. I turn away even though I'm pretty sure he can't see my sorrow.
“You were lucky. We never do that.”
“Why not?”
With a sigh, Brecken answers. “Because my dad can't take time off. We're still paying tons of medical bills from my mom's hospital stay. We don't have insurance. Dad runs his own business and... why am I telling you this? It doesn't even matter.” He throws the remote down and stands up.
“Who are you talking to?” Heidi says, returning from her bedroom.
“No one.”
She stands before him, her arms crossed, her hip jutted t
o the side. I almost laugh. She looks just like me with my brothers. “Are you taking your pills?” she asks.
I can tell Brecken is tempted to say something rude, because there's nothing more irritating than a little brother or sister telling you what to do, but to my surprise, he says nothing. He turns and pounds down the stairs to his bedroom.
Heidi frowns and goes into the bathroom. The shower turns on and music blasts. Since I don't want to sit in the living room alone, I head downstairs and walk in to Brecken's room right as he's taking off his t-shirt. His arms are in the air, the shirt wrapped around his wrists.
“Ahh!” I scream, turning away. “Get dressed!”
He laughs. “What? You've never seen a guy's chest before?” He flexes his arms, proud of his bulging biceps. “One as awesome as this?”
My automatic reaction is not what he expects. Nor what I expect either. It's not that I'm unimpressed, or even shy. The problem is that when I see nakedness of any kind, I think of Mr. Roland. It makes me sick, and even though it's not fair to Brecken, that's how it plays out.
Gram is right. I'm letting the abuse continue. I've never had a normal relationship with a boy during my life, and the fact that I keep reliving those horrible moments with Mr. Roland, prove her point. I can't even look at a hot guy like Brecken without getting upset or grossed out. I need help, but where do you get it once you're dead?
“Get dressed!” I command again, jabbing my finger at him.
“I am,” he says, clearly disappointed. “You're the one who's not supposed to be here. What do you care anyway? Don't guardian angels get to see everything? There are no secrets, right?”
“Oh, I hope not,” I say, waiting outside his door. “And I already told you. I'm not an angel. Just a guardian. And speaking of that, can you please tell me what the big obstacle is that you're facing, so I can help you overcome it and get out of here?” I rest my head against the cement wall, waiting.
When he doesn't say anything, I sneak a peek into his room. He sits on a chair, his dirty t-shirt wadded in his fist, lines of worry etched on his face. His lips pulled down into an anxious frown.
“What's wrong?” I ask, forgetting myself and hurrying over to kneel beside him. As soon as his eyes lift to mine, I sense the overwhelming feelings of stress and exhaustion. I place my hand on his and say what I've never said to any other guy in my whole life. “It's going to be okay. I'm... here for you.”