Shhh...Mack's Side

by Jettie Woodruff

  Mr. Nichols turned, worried about the crazed look in my eyes. He was gray. Why was everything gray? I blinked several times, seeing color in quick, flashy intervals.

  Blink. Gia laying on the floor, dead in color.

  Blink. Gia laying on the floor, dead in gray.

  Blink. Gia laying on the floor, dead in color.

  Blink. Gia, laying on the floor, dead in gray.

  “Gianna!” Mr. Nichols called, scooping her up.

  I didn’t move. I watched without looking, seeing Gia’s lifeless body curl backward, losing to gravity as Mr. Nichols carried her out.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  That’s how many times blood fell from her head. Five times. Four plus one is five. Six minus one is five. Three plus two is five. Five is the third prime number. Half of five is two point five. Five is a congruent number. Five is the number of Platonic solids. I had five fingers on each hand, five toes on each foot. Mama called the doctor because five little monkeys were jumping on a bed. We have five senses. Subway had a five dollar foot long. There are five Great Lakes.

  Moving my face to the cold, dirty floor. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball, wrapping my knees in my arms. I didn’t see gray anymore. Everything was black. I was seeing what Gia was seeing. Total darkness.

  “I’m sorry, Gia. I’m so sorry,” I cried, feeling the bead slide across the bridge of my nose and mix with the tears falling from my other eye. I hurt. I hurt everywhere. It was physical. I wanted out. I couldn’t live with the fact that I killed two people that I loved more than my own life.

  Lifting my head from the floor, I banged it once, seeing flashes of what I’d done. Two. Her pupils dilated. Three. Her mouth fell open. Four. Ouch. That one hurt. Her eyes rolled back. Five. She went limp. There were five drips of blood. Five is the number of members from Jackson Five. There are five stages of grief. I don’t believe that. I didn’t feel them when Cara died. I didn’t feel anything. Five minutes. That’s how long I got to hold her, touch her, see her tiny little fingers and toes.

  That’s when my world began to fade, thinking about that night in the hospital. My parents were there when I opened my eyes. Two police officers stood above my head. Why didn’t I make her tell me more? Why hadn’t I gotten that truth out of her before I killed her? I would never know now. I knew the why. It was all because of jealousy and resentment. I didn’t know the how.

  The last thing I remembered was being run off the road, getting out of the car and nothing. That’s when I was hit in the back of the head. I had the scar to remind me even if I don’t really remember. I didn’t speak with either of the officers that time when I woke. I didn’t speak to them until the next morning after Gia had gotten to me. I shouldn’t have listened. Why the hell did I let her talk me into something I didn’t know what I was getting into?

  “Mack? Wake up. Can you hear me?”

  “Gia, what the hell happened?” I questioned, sitting up. Whoa, not ready for that yet. My head spun faster than a tornado, my stomach did flip flops, and my mouth suddenly salivated. I dropped my head back to my pillow.

  “Shhh…Not so loud. Mack, you have to go along with what I say. We had rape kits done. They know we were raped.”

  “We weren’t raped. We got in the back of that car on our own free will.”

  “Shhh…Just shut up and listen for a minute,” she said, shushing me. “Did you speak to the cops?”

  “Not yet. They want me to. What the hell’s going on, Gia?”

  “Mr. Nichols. He was the one that hit you in the back of the head. He raped us Mack.”

  I sat up again. Maybe she hit her head too. “No, that’s not what happened. Mr. Nichols may have been a dick for ruining her scholarship, and our last chance at the state competition, but even I knew he wasn’t capable of that.

  “Gianna, have you lost your mind?”

  “Mack, do this for me. Please. You don’t even have to lie. Just say the last thing you remember was being hit in the head. You know it was Mr. Nichols and that’s it. You don’t remember anything after that.”

  “I don’t, but I’m not going to say he raped me. Jesus, god, Gia. You’re crazy.”

  “You don’t have to say any of that. They did the rape kit. They know you had sex. We’re pinning it on James. Just go along with what I say. That’s all you have to do.”

  “Gianna—.” I tried protesting.

  “I’ve got to get out of here. Do this for me, Mack. You at least owe me this.”

  That was the last thing she said. I didn’t understand at the time what she meant by I owe her. I must be the stupidest best friend in the world. Why didn’t I see what a manipulative, plastic bitch she was? If it looks like a duck, if it acts like a duck, it’s a duck. Gia was a fake friend, always in it for herself, never me. It was never about me. It was always what Gia wanted. And once again, I got tangled into web Gianna—again.

  I didn’t even feel it come on. One minute I was banging my head off the floor like I’d done to Gia, and the next, well, it was just nothing. No thoughts. No memories. Just nothing. Peace.

  When I woke, it was dark. For a split second, I was scared. I was going to crawl in bed with my parents where I felt safe. Seeing the broken arm and Cara lying face down on the dirty floor, I knew I wasn’t going to my parents. Cara was an eerie sight. The moon was the only bit of light I had and it shined, only on Cara. I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. I crawled around, feeling my way to the window.

  “Whoa,” I audibly said, feeling the wooziness in my head. I couldn’t tell if I was still seeing gray or not. It was too dark. Finding my way to the window, I avoided the broken doll. My head felt clearer than it had since I’d been there. That wasn’t Cara. Cara died a long time ago and I needed to put that to rest. Gianna, on the other hand, I had to deal with. Maybe she was okay. Maybe Mr. Nichols got her to the hospital and she was fine.

  That’s when I noticed the other light. My door was wide open. He didn’t lock me in when he rushed out with Gia. My heart started to beat faster, filling with adrenaline at the thought of walking out the door. I could go. I could walk out and never look back. Feeling my way to the door, my bare feet scooted across the floor. I’d learned to do that pretty quickly. If you scooted your feet rather than stepping, you had a better chance of not being stabbed by decaying debris.

  I held both hands on the wall and inched my way down the hall. There is not a scarier place on earth than that abandoned asylum. It’s the most disturbing place I’ve ever seen in my life, especially that time of night. I didn’t want to go down there. It was the deepest, darkest place there. I had to. That was where the padded room was. Hoping that’s where Gia was, I carefully made my way to the room.

  I screamed when I felt something run across the top of my foot. Breathing hard, I relaxed. That wasn’t the first time that happened since I’d been there. It was just a rat.

  “Just a rat. Jesus Christ, McKenzie Perry,” I audibly scolded myself for thinking any of this was normal.

  I knew as soon as I felt the open door, she wasn’t there. Shit. I should have known he wouldn’t take her back to the solitary confinement room. There had to be at least fifty rooms. Where was she? I thought about the screams I heard from my window. That narrowed it down. They came from the same side. Her window overlooked the field, too. It didn’t sound lower. She was on the same floor. The west wing. Yeah. She had to be on the other side.

  Carefully making my way back up the dangerous steps, I almost made it to the top before my foot went through the rotten boards. I felt the splintering wood slice the inside of my leg, clear to my groin, and then the warm blood. I didn’t have to count the drips. It was pouring. I crawled out of the hole and grabbed my bleeding leg. Damnit. My hand was soaked in the gash that definitely needed stitches. I tugged at the bottom of my shirt, ripping an inch or so, hoping to bandage it enough to stop the bleeding.

  My makeshift bandage was soaked in no time, but it did seem to slow down the flow. I had to fin
d Gia. Did he leave her? Did Mr. Nichols run when she died? I hoped she didn’t go alone. I hoped he was with her. No. She wasn’t dead. She was alive. She had to be alive. I had to make it right. I had to tell her I was sorry. I would tell her dead body if I had to. I just needed to get to her. I needed Gia.

  Every door I passed was opened. She wouldn’t be in an opened room. Not if she was alive. Mr. Nichols would have just dumped her and left. He wouldn’t have bothered to lock the door. Would he? That’s when my heart got another rush of adrenaline.

  What the fuck? I heard moans. Not the damsel in distress, I’m hurt, kind of moans. They were orgasm moans. Feeling my way to a T in the hall, I saw the light. It wasn’t the dim lit moonlight like I’d had. It was bright, maybe a lantern. I walked as easy as I could, staying close to the wall, making my way to the moaning and grunting.

  Un-fucking-believable. Gia was on a mattress with sheets. Pink, clean sheets. I’d never gotten sheets. I’d never even gotten a tampon. Shit. Thinking of that. I was sure it had been about a month now. It had to be getting close. That helped with my time deception. We hadn’t been there a month yet. Or maybe we had.

  I remember once when I was away at school, I went through a manic state, refusing to take any more drugs. I made it six weeks before my mother found me naked on my bathroom floor. I didn’t have a period then.

  Mr. Nichols was on top of Gia, kissing her passionately, thrusting in and out of her. Gia moaned and thrust her hips into his, wrapping her legs around his waist, and dragging her nails down his back.

  “I never had this with Sarah,” he admitted to her. “I never felt the tension like this with her. I felt it the first time I touched you. I knew the moment I touched you, it was over.”

  More moaning. “Did you love me then?” Gia asked. Nope not dead at all. I suddenly wished she was dead. I wanted to kill them both.

  “I loved you from the moment I saw you, I think. Gianna, I was only trying to do what was right. Please believe that. If things would have been different, you know, if you would have had the baby. I would have been there. Somehow, I would have.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have, ahhh shit, James,” Gia panted, moaning even louder. “You would have stayed with your pregnant wife, not your off limits, pregnant student.”

  “I still would have been there,” Mr. Nichols grunted, pumping hard in and out of her. Gia screamed in pleasure and he released inside her.

  I stilled my breathing when the room went silent. How fucking cute. They were coming down from pleasure. Orgasmic pleasure.

  “James,” Gia whispered.

  “What, Gianna,” Mr. Nichols asked, raising up to move a strand of hair behind her ear, Ah, how fucking romantic.

  “Did you touch her? Have you done this with her?”

  “McKenzie?” he asked, taken aback.

  “Yes. Please tell me I have something with someone that she doesn’t have.”

  “It’s not a competition with McKenzie, Gianna. Life is not about McKenzie Perry.”

  “I know that. I don’t even talk to her anymore, haven’t in years. Did you fuck her?”

  “No. I had all intentions of it. I was going to fuck you both. You should see the suitcase of shit I had originally planned for you two.”

  I moved my head when Mr. Nichols rolled off her. He moved to his side and caressed her stomach, propped on one elbow.

  “I’m glad you brought us here,” Gianna admitted.

  “Us or just you?”

  “I’m sort of happy that Mack doesn’t have her fancy magazine job to go back to. Does that make me a bad friend?”

  “Yeah, sort of, but McKenzie didn’t have a fancy job. She was renting some dump in Cyprus Florida, a small town barely on the map.”

  Gia sat up. “Why? Where did she work?”

  “Mack hasn’t worked in almost a year. She left her job when I was paroled. She ran. You think the little cunt knew? You think she knew I was coming for you?”

  “Don’t call her that. Why would you say that?”

  “Hmmm, let me think. Maybe because the little cunt put me in prison for something I didn’t do.”

  “Good point,” Gia backed down. One minute she was talking trash about me and the next she was standing up for me. Was she as manic as me?

  “Shhh, go to sleep. How’s your head?”

  “Sore, but okay,” Gianna replied, snuggling up to Mr. Nichols, or James to her. She smiled, relaxed in her clean sheets, nestled in his arms.

  I didn’t move a muscle. I was afraid of making noises with the old boards. I think I sat there quietly for at least thirty minutes after Mr. Nichols turned off the lantern. I heard the deep breathing and peeked in one more time. I could see that Gia was now on her side, turned away from Mr. Nichols. He held her close to him, molding his body in to hers. What was I supposed to do now? I didn’t even know what state I was in. I thought I was still south, but not as far south as I had been in Florida. North Carolina maybe, or could it be as far as Virginia or Tennessee?

  Where was the nearest road? I didn’t even have my phone. Where was my phone? I had the compass I could have gone by if I had my phone. I quietly stood from my stooped position on the floor and made my way back to my own room, feeling blood trickle down my leg again. Damnit. I found Cara just fine, it was the arm that Gia ripped off that I couldn’t find. Crawling around on my hands and knees, I touched something furry and jumped back, holding in the scream. I didn’t want to take the chance on anyone hearing me.

  I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find it anywhere. Cara was going to have to be laid to rest without it attached to her little body, just like her broken heart. I walked back down the decaying stairs and right out the door. I never turned around, not even for a glance. I held the one armed Cara in my arms, crying the entire time. I was saying goodbye. I was finally going to say goodbye, not just to Cara, but to all of it. Mr. Nichols, the voices, Kyle, and Gia. I was saying goodbye to a complicated relationship with my Gianna.

  I knew she’d be okay. I could tell by the conversation I’d heard. Mr. Nichols would take care of her. He wouldn’t leave her there. I was sure of it. I was also sure that no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t hurt her, or at least not any more than she wanted to be hurt. Who knows what sort of sick sex games they played, mixing pain with pleasure.

  I walked right through the field and to the brook. Wading my bare feet through the shallow water, hissing from the freezing temperatures, I sucked air between my teeth. The pain of it hitting the scratches and cuts on my ankle hurt, stinging like a hundred bee stings. I untied my homemade tunicate and rinsed the blood, watching the red trail flow through the moon lit current. Using the cloth to clean the wound between my thighs, I cried. I thought I was crying from the most horrific pain I’d ever felt. The icy water chilled my open cut to the point of almost passing out. I crawled back to the little bank and laid down.

  I wailed, louder than I wanted to. I cried in agony. In agony of losing my one and only friend, of losing the only off limits man who had ever made me feel whole. The agony I bestowed on AJ when I left him to bury my baby girl, knowing he was burying another man’s child. I knew he took care of it. I knew he would make the arrangements. He was that kind of guy. He would have done it for her.

  I cried for the agony I had donated to AJ. I should have never let it get that serious. I just left, no goodbye, nothing. For Mr. Nichols and the seven years of anguish he felt. For Melanie, for doing what only a wife should do to her man. The hell, wrapped in suffering, I put my parents through ever since I was a little girl. And last but not least. My baby girl. I wailed again thinking about her tiny little body and the quick gasps of air she was fighting for before they snatched her away.

  Sitting up after who knows how long, I wiped the dirty tears from my face, using the same bloody rag I’d tied my leg with. I felt dazed, woozy, and a little nauseated. I was cold and shivering, but I had to keep moving. I had to find a road. I bit my own shoulder, leaving marks I was sure, wh
en I tightened the cloth around my lacerated leg. I knew I had to stop the bleeding again, but it was the only warmth I was getting. Tying it tightly, I screamed into my shoulder, trying not to pass out from the pain. Using the leftover blood, I rubbed it into my legs, thinking maybe I could use it like a layer of clothes. It didn’t work.

  Standing, I took Cara in my arms, grimaced in pain and walked to the tree. The one that I could see the top of from my window. That’s when I looked back. That’s when I saw the haunting building, telling me to run. I suddenly had the urge to run. Run and never look back. Dropping to my knees beneath the tree, I dug and dug, crying once again. I could feel the buildup of mud and grime caking into my nails. I kept digging and I kept crying. I was saying goodbye.

  Once I had a big enough hole, I placed the one armed Cara in my arms and hugged her tight. That was the hardest thing I had ever gone through in my entire life. I wasn’t seeing the broken doll. I was seeing my baby. Her lifeless body lay limp in my arms as she breathed quick, short breaths, in and out. I brought her to my face, embracing her soft, warm skin on my cheek. She smelled like I remembered when she came into the world. That smell only a mother knows. The smell of a new life, the one you never, ever forget.

  “I love you so much, baby girl. Don’t you ever think I didn’t,” I cried. I pressed my lips to hers and felt her take her last breath. Closing her eyes with my tear stained lips, I placed her in the hole where she could finally rest, knowing how sorry I was and how much I loved her.

  I don’t remember covering her up with the dirt, although I am sure that I did. I stood, counting on the tree for balance against gravity. I wasn’t sure if I was dehydrated or if I was losing too much blood. How much is too much? How long did it take before one was out of blood? Placing my hand over the bandage, I felt better, realizing it was just wet and wasn’t bleeding anymore.

  Deciding to follow the creek, I started out, heading east, or was this west? Hoping I wasn’t far from a road, I began my journey. The journey to my life. The one I was going to cherish, start fresh, and finally live. A new sense of life and a desire to live, really live, fueled my desire to keep going. I couldn’t wait to talk to my mom. I missed her voice and I missed my dad. Thinking about them made me wonder if they had missed me yet, probably not. Once, I’d gone four months without one word. I was going to change that. I was. Lila probably missed me more than them.