Walking Through Needles

by Heather Levy

  “What about Polynices? Wasn’t that Antigone’s son or something?”

  Sam rolled her eyes at him.

  “Polynices was her brother. She ignored King Creon’s orders and buried her brother’s remains, so she was sealed up in a cave as punishment.”

  “Well, that would totally suck.” He grinned at her and she smiled some in return.

  “I can think of worse things.”

  She returned to studying the mother and her baby, and Arrow sensed the ozone around her, the strange crackle of something telling him a storm was forming inside her. A breeze blew through the barn and Sam shivered. She did nothing to make herself warm, and this bothered him. He sat on the hay-covered ground and removed his jacket. She didn’t say anything when he draped it over her shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her to warm her further.

  A memory of his mom hit him. He had been six or so and was playing in the snow in nothing but his underwear and his mom chased him back into the house, calling him her crazy naked bear cub. She had wrapped him in her favorite thick flannel blanket and cradled him like a baby on the couch, his dad in the kitchen getting something warm for them to drink. Arrow had felt so protected in his mom’s arms. Nothing in the world could harm him.

  “Sam,” Arrow said. “Your Aunt Shelley still lives in Dallas, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you’re close with her?”

  “Sure.”

  He squeezed her as a way of giving himself courage. “Let’s go there—to your aunt’s. Let’s run away.”

  Sam snorted out a laugh. “Are you insane? That’s nuts.”

  “It’s not. I still have money from when I mowed lawns over the summer. I’m going to start chopping wood soon too. I was going to use the money for your birthday present, but we can get bus tickets.”

  She turned in his arms and asked, “How much do you have?”

  “Almost eighty dollars.”

  She slumped against his chest.

  “That’s not enough for both of us.”

  “You’ll get money for your birthday. We can combine it.”

  As he said it, Arrow saw the plan coming together. They’d wait until after Sam’s birthday, hitch a ride to Oklahoma City through Sam’s friend Chrissy, who just got a car, and buy bus tickets to Dallas. Sam would be safe from his dad. They’d both be safe.

  Sam was quiet for a long time, rubbing her stomach as if it were bugging her. Arrow shuddered from the cold and hugged her closer to him. Sam brushed her lips over his cheek, barely a kiss.

  “Okay,” she said, and he kissed her lips. They were freezing but he kept kissing her until warmth flowed through every part of him, surrounding them both in a promise.

  Chapter 29: Sam, 1994

  During her entire last period in school—biology—Sam thought about the baby growing inside her. Mitosis, chromosomes in the nucleus separating and reforming new cells on repeat, creating organ tissues, eyes…fingernails. Almost eleven weeks, and the baby had toes and ears too. Could it hear? The book she had read at the library didn’t say, but she imagined it could so she tried not to cuss too much.

  She thought of her Aunt Shelley. She could call her from a payphone or maybe Chrissy’s private phone line, but she had a feeling her aunt would call her mom and ruin the plan. If she showed up with Arrow, if she explained their reason for running away in person, she couldn’t imagine Aunt Shelley turning them away.

  Aunt Shelley’s first husband had been physically abusive. Sam wasn’t supposed to know this, as her aunt pointed out during Sam’s last visit to Dallas. “You think I had it bad, your daddy wasn’t too nice to your mom either,” Shelley had told Sam while they drank huge lattes at a small café, the intimate conversation making Sam feel like an adult.

  Her aunt had left her husband and married a much younger man who “couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.” Now, Aunt Shelley lived alone in a large downtown high-rise apartment filled with expensive, uncomfortable contemporary furniture she paid for with her pharmaceutical sales job. Everything in the apartment was red, black, white, and gray, and Sam couldn’t picture Arrow lounging on the blood-red couch.

  The final school bell rang, and Sam exited the building with the throng of students, walking past Chrissy, whom she hadn’t spoken with much in the last few weeks. Chrissy had cut her blond hair shorter and was wearing Doc Martens with one of those popular baby doll dresses, all short and low-cut, like she was a grunge girl, which she wasn’t. The dress showed off Chrissy’s ample chest, and Sam felt oddly jealous when she remembered Isaac talking about how developed Chrissy was. Sam thought hers were getting bigger or at least more painful when she tried to touch them.

  Chrissy called out to her, but Sam kept walking. She was about to walk in the direction of where she usually met up with Arrow when she saw a white Chevy pickup in the high school’s circle drive.

  Isaac’s truck.

  Isaac leaned over and opened the passenger door. Sam looked back at the school to see Chrissy’s brown eyes darting back and forth between Isaac’s truck and Sam’s face. Her best friend seemed to give her a look saying, “Don’t.”

  Then Chrissy called out, “Hi, Mr. Walker. I was going to give Sam a ride home today.”

  “That’s quite all right,” he called back. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Sam smiled at her friend for her attempt. She went to the passenger side and set her backpack on the floorboard before climbing into the truck.

  They drove for a minute before Isaac spoke. “Put your seatbelt on.”

  She secretly hoped they would get into a wreck and she would fly out of the truck, magically unscathed while Isaac smashed his head on the steering wheel, blood everywhere. The fullness of her belly made her comply and she buckled her seatbelt.

  He didn’t pull onto the normal street going toward their house and a sweat broke out over Sam’s body.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just someplace nearby.”

  “Why?”

  He gave her an incredulous look as if she should know why, and her stomach cramped.

  “I—the doctor…she said I shouldn’t…” Her voice faded into the sound of the truck’s tires whooshing over the pavement, kicking up fallen leaves.

  Isaac didn’t say anything and kept driving for the next ten minutes until they came to the edge of a large pond. He got out and she followed, staying farther behind him. It was a pretty spot, spires of golden grass lining the narrow rock beach, trees still laden with orange and red foliage, the gray water emitting a gentle lapping sound, but Sam couldn’t focus on anything but the back of Isaac’s denim jacket, at his large hand reaching back for her own. When she took it, his grip was unexpectedly gentle, and a flutter of need flickered through her lower half, surprising her.

  They sat at a bench someone had fashioned from stone many years ago from the look of it. Isaac leaned into her and she knew he wanted to kiss her, but she turned her head, hoping he’d think she didn’t notice.

  “Look at me.”

  He took her chin in his hand and forced her to face him.

  “Look at me,” he said, each word punctuated.

  She did but it was hard to hold eye contact with him when his voice turned demanding.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted that.”

  She didn’t see how he could be serious, but his eyes were so intense, she had to blink a ton to keep looking at him. It made her think of being at the lake when she was younger. “Don’t stare at the sun, Sammy,” her mama would say, “you’ll go blind.”

  “I’ll never hurt you that way again, you understand?”

  That way. Not never hurt her period—just not that way. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved. Even now she craved his pain, but she knew she wouldn’t survive that kind again.

  She nodded.

  He pressed his lips to hers, soft, like it was their first kiss, and she thought of Arrow’s lips, not
Isaac’s, of Arrow’s hands tugging a handful of her hair until she whimpered.

  Isaac pulled back from the kiss and yanked on her hair harder. She held in her cry because she knew that was what he liked. He grinned, pleased with her, and she felt their familiar exchange rekindled; he took, she gave, and he gave back just enough to make her want more.

  “Did you miss me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you miss Arrow?”

  She didn’t know how to answer him, and fear scratched at her throat.

  “Do you love him?”

  She closed her eyes, afraid he would see the answer in the blacks of her pupils. Magic 8 Balls giving her away.

  “You love me,” he said. “What I do for you.”

  Not a question. She opened her eyes and nodded, wanting to see his approval, hopeful it would put him in a good mood. When he was in a good mood, his punishments didn’t last as long. Sometimes, she wanted him to be in a bad mood, and she’d push all his buttons to see how far he’d go. This wasn’t one of those times. Her gut told her to be careful.

  Isaac motioned to the huge pond.

  “You know, used to be good fishing here, but people kept dumping their trash—wrappers, bottles, old tires and such. Bodies too. Fish got too fat and started dying. They can barely swim now.”

  Isaac’s sudden smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “They can eat a body to the bone. Probably love nibbling on young flesh the best.”

  Sam squirmed next to him, and Isaac’s hand grasped her thigh, his fingers digging into her jeans and she knew there’d be bruises.

  “What’d you tell those doctors at the hospital?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “You told them about us, didn’t you?”

  “No. I didn’t say anything.”

  Isaac’s fingers dug deeper, pain shooting throughout her left leg. It wasn’t the good kind of pain and she wanted him to stop. She ran her hand across his chest and down to his jeans and he tightened his grip on her thigh.

  “Such a little whore, aren’t you? It’s all about fucking to you.”

  She stopped moving her hand, unsure of what he wanted now. She wasn’t used to not knowing.

  “Tell me you’re a whore.”

  His fingers felt like they were touching bone.

  “Say it.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes and she mumbled, “I—I’m a whore.”

  He gathered a chunk of her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled hard again. “Louder.”

  “I’m a whore,” she said, loud enough to echo across the pond.

  “Yes, you are, and you make me treat you like one.”

  He unzipped his jeans and took himself out. She knew what he wanted her to do, but she never enjoyed doing it for him. It wasn’t the same as with Arrow. Isaac used it as a punishment, pushing her down on him until she would almost pass out from lack of oxygen.

  He shoved her face down onto the salt and sweat of him. He was barely inside her mouth before her stomach rose up and kept coming up until everything in her came out onto his lap.

  “Fuck!” Isaac jumped up, vomit covering his jeans.

  Sam jumped up too, hands hovering near her mouth, the acid burning the back of her throat. She had to stop herself from laughing as Isaac rubbed a fistful of dead leaves over his groin in an attempt to clean himself, dry heaving as he did it.

  “I’m so sorry, I—”

  “Get in the goddamn truck!”

  She ran to the passenger side and tried to clean herself while she waited for him.

  It was dark by the time they made it to the house, Isaac cussing under his breath most of the way back, the truck filled with the sour smell of puke. Isaac shot through the front door and called out, “Taking a quick shower.”

  Sam slowly trailed him inside, feeling weak and exhausted. She vaguely thought about her calculus homework on her way up to her bedroom, ignoring her mama’s voice coming from the kitchen. Arrow waited at the top of the stairs, annoyance on his face.

  “Where’d you go after school? I waited forever.”

  Sam stared through him. She wanted to tell him about his cells multiplying in her, making her throw up anything she tried to keep down. He should just know without her saying it. Didn’t anyone notice her gaining weight and throwing up all the time?

  “I saw Chrissy drive by,” he said. “She told me she saw you after school.”

  Sam pushed past him toward her room. “Yeah.”

  “You left with him?”

  She flopped onto her bed and Arrow shut her bedroom door behind him.

  “Why would you go with him?” he asked.

  “I had to.”

  She reached for her headphones, but Arrow snatched them from her hands.

  “Don’t you hear your mom? It’s time to eat.”

  “Not hungry.”

  “What’d he do to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Get out.”

  “No.”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  Sam grabbed the headphones back from him right as her mama busted through the door. She looked at Sam and then at Arrow standing by her bed, inexplicable anger crossing her face.

  “What’d I tell you about coming around Sam? Get downstairs right now.”

  Arrow darted out of the room, hurt in his eyes when he glanced back at Sam.

  “Sammy, it’s time for dinner,” her mama said, her tone softer.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Her mama sat next to her on the bed. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately, but I’ve seen you munching quite a bit here and there. Like a lil raccoon sneaking into the kitchen at night.” Her mama touched her stomach, making Sam jerk back from her.

  “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “No, honey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Her mama stared at her as if she expected her to say something, and Sam felt like crying into her pillow.

  “Honey, we have to talk about what happened. If someone hurt you, and—”

  “I fell from the ladder. That’s it. God, can you please stop talking about it all the time?”

  Her mama looked down at her lap.

  “But those marks you had on your back, and…and down there. I don’t see how falling could’ve done that.”

  She couldn’t tell her mama about Isaac, all the things she let him do to her. It would destroy her. But maybe she could tell her about the baby. Her mama would cry and yell at her, Sam knew, but maybe she would be a little happy too. She loved knitting tiny blue and pink caps and booties for the preemie babies at the hospital.

  “Sammy, you know you can talk to me. About anything.”

  “Mama, I…”

  Before her words could form, Sam remembered the large pond, the dead look in Isaac’s eyes when he told her people dumped bodies there. She imagined herself sunk to the bottom, fat fish swarming and biting tiny chunks out of her tongue and eyeballs.

  “Sammy?”

  She smiled at her mom.

  “Actually, I am hungry.”

  Her mama paused, looking unsure, before she patted Sam’s hand.

  “Okay, honey. Wash your hands before you come down.”

  Her mama paused again at the door.

  “Do you need any help with your homework after dinner?”

  “It’s calculus. You wouldn’t know how to do it.”

  “Okay.”

  Hurt crossed her mama’s face before she left the room, but Sam didn’t feel the sting of it; she still felt like she was sitting at the bottom of the pond, her voice swallowed by murky water.

  Chapter 30: Sam, 2009

  The police called it escorting, as if they were gallant men from a fairytale sweeping up to Sam’s house to take her to an extravagant ball. They didn’t handcuff her before they helped her into the back of the police vehicle, but they weren’t exa
ctly gentlemen either.

  All she knew was that they were bringing her in for questioning. An officer checked her in at the downtown Oklahoma City police station and took her to a small room containing nothing but three crappy plastic chairs and a small desk. It was freezing in the room, and she wished she had a jacket, but no sane person wore a jacket in this kind of August heat wave. She never wore padded bras, but she began to wish she owned one when the officer kept ogling her blue tank top before he left her, shutting the door behind him.

  For several minutes, she sat alone in a chair against the wall, no access to her phone, which an officer took during the check-in. She guessed it was about seven-thirty and realized she had two beers and no food in her stomach.

  Detective Eastman entered the room, grinning at Sam like she was a good friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. He set what looked like a shoebox on the desk, took one of the chairs across from her, and told her they were recording the conversation. Sam placed her hands on the table but quickly moved them back to her lap. Her instinct was to twist the bottom of her tank top, but she made herself be still, a mannequin who wouldn’t react.

  “Miss Mayfair, it’s been a while. I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “What I’m interested in is what you have to tell me.”

  He took off his gray suit jacket and draped it across the chair next to him before leaning forward, elbows resting on the table. It was silly, she knew he was trying to intimidate her by taking up space in the tiny room, but that simple act was enough to make her heart rate pick up.

  “As you know, we determined the cause of your stepfather’s death to be blunt force trauma to the head. He also had some obvious stab wounds to the back of his torso, which likely caused a collapsed lung and internal bleeding.”

  Sam’s jaw tightened so much her back molars hurt. She avoided looking at the box between them.

  “It wasn’t a pleasant way to die.”

  Sam wanted to say no shit.

  The detective smiled again, that same self-assured grin Isaac always wore, and Sam had to fight to control her breath. In and out, in and out.