Frayed

by Kara Terzis

  He grimaced in response.

  “Do you think she would go there?” I asked. “If there was one?”

  Rafe looked away from me out the window. “If anyone deserved to go to heaven, it was Kesley.”

  He leaned over and pressed his lips against my forehead before dropping them lower against the flesh marred by the acid so long ago. I turned to him, feeling those stupid tears sting my eyes. I felt Rafe’s fingers brush against my cheek, pushing back the hair that obscured me from his view. I glanced at him. He arched his brows in concern but didn’t say anything.

  “He’d never touch me there,” I whispered.

  He smiled a little and said, “I can’t imagine why. It’s an imperfection. Imperfections make you beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, turning away again so he wouldn’t see my tears.

  When I let myself into the house a few minutes later, my mother was already standing at the door, eyes pinned on Rafe’s receding car. Her eyes were narrowed. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Suppressed anger.

  “Were you watching us?” I whispered, face heating.

  “No, of course not,” she said, but she couldn’t look at me.

  “Then I guess you already know,” I said, seeing through her lie.

  My mother turned to look at me, and behind the sadness in her eyes there was something else—suspicion?—that I couldn’t place. “Just don’t let him hurt you, okay?”

  I thought back to the promise he’d made me. “He makes me happy, Mom.”

  My mother stopped in the motion of closing the door on the cold breeze. She sighed a very motherly sort of sigh and looked at me. “All right, Ava,” she said. “But you’ve been hurt too much in your life already.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Since the arrest, there was no more news of Riley.

  I wasn’t sure whether that was good or not; bail hadn’t been granted because of her criminal past and the severity of her alleged crime, so she remained in police custody.

  Out of us all, Amanda was taking Riley’s arrest the hardest. They’d been close before this, and whenever Riley’s name was even mentioned that week, Amanda would demand we travel to Lake O’Hara right away. May or Abbey would calm her down until her glower softened into a scowl, and then she’d sigh heavily and slump back into her seat.

  Friday arrived with a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. Of all the days it was going to rain, of course it had to be today. The access road that twisted and curved up to Lake O’Hara wasn’t too challenging, but hiking to the lake wasn’t going to be much fun in this weather. I’d been prepared for the cold but not the rain.

  I didn’t mention this as we all piled into Rafe’s car a half hour after school ended and sped off toward the highway. Until we hit the highway, Amanda—who’d only half joked I should ride in the trunk—tapped her foot impatiently every time Rafe stopped for a red light.

  Still, I thought this trip was pointless. What would Kesley have thought about all this? Were we just clinging to the vain thread of hope we’d find something at the lake?

  The car was already packed with everything we needed: clothes, bottles of water, tents, and nonperishable foods.

  It took more than an hour to reach Yoho National Park. We parked in the Lake O’Hara parking lot, then made our way down the access road. Mountains loomed in the distance, casting deep-blue shadows over the road that mingled with weak rays of yellow light almost instantly smothered by thick, bruise-colored clouds. It was awfully cold outside, made ten times worse by the light drizzle. The road beneath my feet was nothing but gravel and dirt, which squelched as the rain turned the dirt to mud.

  We walked in silence up the access road, occasionally walking faster or slower due to the heavy packs we all wore. We were all thinking, thinking, thinking. What would we find at that lake? May spoke to me once, just as we reached the halfway mark to the lake.

  “You’ve done this before, right?” she asked. She was leading the pack, Amanda close behind, but I knew her question was aimed at me.

  “Every year since I was ten,” I replied. My voice had turned slightly scratchy from not using it for most of the day.

  “Aren’t there, like, grizzly bears here?” she asked hesitantly. From behind me, Abbey snorted. Apparently, stray bears were the least of her concerns.

  I squinted at the trees on either side of us. They were thick and dark and incredibly daunting. Because of the impending storm, the light was dimming quickly. Before I knew it, I wouldn’t be able to see my own hands. I hoped we’d reach the camping area before that.

  “Mostly in summer,” I said to her with a small smile. “The most you’ll see are a few elk and maybe some mountain goats if you’re lucky.”

  That was it for conversation. Rafe said nothing the entire way. Even though I knew he liked silence, there was something brooding about his. He was a dark presence that had fallen in step beside me.

  The rain intensified, splattering down on us as we crawled toward the lake at a snail’s pace. I began to lag behind the others—not because I was worried I might slip and fall but because of the sudden thrumming of nervousness I felt. This wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment camping trip. This was the place where Kesley was killed.

  Strangled.

  Murdered.

  The mere thought of the word sent a flaring tightness, almost a pain, through my neck. I closed my eyes, and my fingers flew to my neck. There was nothing there, of course.

  My stomach rolled like waves as I remembered it doing in my dream. That was how Kesley felt before she died. My legs wobbled, and I took in several deep breaths.

  I was not Kesley. I was not being choked. I could breathe. I was alive.

  I forced myself to focus on the here and now and peered through the darkness. We had almost reached the lake. Through the night and the rain, I could see that the trees were beginning to thin, the gravel road becoming more exposed. But did I want to go any farther?

  No. No, I did not.

  Now, seeing that we were drawing closer to the lake, the others were moving more quickly. Rafe stayed beside me.

  Something locked me in place and froze my feet together. I couldn’t move.

  “Ava?” Rafe. His voice was soft.

  Everyone turned almost simultaneously, eyes flicking from Rafe to me.

  “I can’t do this,” I gasped out. I caught a glimpse of Amanda farther up the pathway. She held the flashlight, highlighting the angry twist of her mouth.

  “Get yourself together, Ava,” she said. “We’re not waiting for you.”

  Above, the distant rumble of thunder grew louder until a fork of lightning split the sky. I glanced up at Rafe, and the sudden flash of light illuminated his brilliant blue eyes.

  “Rafe, please. This is a bad idea,” I whispered. He reached for me, curling his hand around my own. The warmth was a small comfort but not enough. There was a chill inside me that not even body heat could vanquish.

  Amanda’s footsteps crunched ahead of me, fading as the seconds passed, and May hovered just a few paces away, watching us. Abbey was somewhere between the two.

  Rafe squeezed my hand. “Just say the word and I’ll take you home.”

  “I…”

  “Rafe,” said May in a warning tone. “We can’t.”

  I glanced at her. Without the flash of lightning, her face was shrouded in shadow. I thought about what she had just said. We can’t. Plural. If I left, then they would have to leave too. Suspicion burned in the back of my mind, but I pushed it back. Maybe she was right. I couldn’t leave, couldn’t give up now.

  Not when we were so damn close.

  I breathed out a sigh. “Let’s go,” I said, determined. The path twisted through the trees, and then they parted suddenly, the lake stretching before us.


  It was nothing like I remembered.

  The smooth surface was broken, interrupted by ripples as the ferocious wind and rain hit it.

  In the distance, the mountains rose, dark and impressive.

  Panic seized me with its sharp, pointed claws, and my breath caught in my throat. Blackness began to develop at the side of my vision, blotting out the lake. My ears rang as though I had recently been exposed to loud noise. A million memories flooded back to me at that moment: happy, sweet memories. Then sad, grief-filled memories that made me buckle.

  My knees slammed into something cold.

  A wash of voices sounded from above me—or beside me?—but they seemed far away. I felt myself falling further, unable to stop. And even when I should have hit the ground, should have blacked out, I kept falling, falling, falling…

  • • •

  I woke to darkness. It surrounded me, curved around me like a snake.

  Something thick and heavy pressed against my eyelids—I was blindfolded. Blindfolded? Panic erupted inside me, and I took in an involuntary breath. Or I tried to. Material had been shoved into my mouth like a gag, tasting bitter with mildew. My mind screamed at me to undo the gag and blindfold, but something harsh like rope chafed at my wrists. There was a sharp ache at the back of my head.

  I tried to move my feet next, but they too were bound.

  Was this it? Was I going to feel a sharp blade at my neck any moment now? Was I living the last seconds of my life? The scream that had built up in my throat died. Had I gotten too close to the truth of Kesley’s death? Had the killer come for me next? Ice froze my veins. KARMA was the ones who’d taken me out here. They’d designed this whole plan, and for what? To kill me? Just as I surrendered, something warm touched my forearm. I flinched, but the most I could do was edge my chair a few inches away. It screeched against the floor, sounding wooden.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” a soft voice murmured from my left.

  And then hands were at my mouth and face, pulling off the blindfold and gag. The light slammed into me first, so blinding after such impenetrable darkness that I had to blink several times for anything to come into focus.

  I forced myself to breathe slowly, carefully, and assess the situation with a clear mind. It wasn’t difficult to recognize KARMA’s cabin, but knowing where I was didn’t make me feel any better. I remembered walking up to the lake and then…nothing.

  So how had I gotten here?

  I closed my eyes, delved deep into my mind. The throb in the back of my head seemed to intensify, broken images and feelings flashing through my mind. The cold, the wet, the flare of lightning. Arms around me, carrying me forward through the darkness. Voices edged with frustration. The slam of a car door. The sound of an engine revving and rain hitting the windscreen.

  I opened my eyes, heart pounding.

  “R-Rafe?” I said. My voice was nothing more than a thin whisper.

  “I’m here, Ava.” I twisted my neck to look at him. The rope and material lay at his feet, but he didn’t meet my eyes. He strode to the door and called, “She’s awake, Amanda.”

  The door hung open on its hinges, the tap-tap-tapping of rain pummeling against the roof.

  Somewhere, a car door slammed. Then I heard squelching footsteps through mud.

  “Rafe?” I said again, this time louder. “What happened? How did I get here?”

  His voice was unusually clipped when he spoke. “You passed out.” My mother had said that too, the day I fainted at the piano.

  Rafe said nothing more. Amanda stepped through the door, May and Abbey following close behind her. They were both soaked to the bone, hair dripping water all over the wooden floor. Neither of them seemed to care. May’s eyes were puffy and red-rimmed as though she had been crying. Why had she been crying?

  “What happened?” I yelled.

  “Tell her,” someone said quietly. May, I think it was. Or maybe Abbey. I didn’t know or care.

  “Sure thing,” said Amanda. There was a sarcastic, biting edge to her voice. She reached for something and threw a bunch of papers on the table before me. Stuck to the papers were a couple newspaper clippings and a paragraph of neat, curvy, and elegant script, handwriting I recognized the moment I laid eyes on it.

  It was Kesley’s.

  “You were six years old. February the eighth, if I’m correct.” The date stirred something in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite reach it. Amanda continued, “It was about, oh, I don’t know, three in the afternoon. The roads were coated with a thin layer of ice that was gradually melting. They were slippery, very slippery. Your father was driving you home from school when a truck hit your car.”

  February eighth. A date I’d never forget.

  “Your father died instantly. But thank God for children’s seats, eh? ’Cause you survived. Afterward, you were diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. Obviously. You say you can’t remember much of your life when you were young, don’t you? Well, there’s why. Your brain erased those memories for you because you couldn’t cope with them. You missed your father, Ava. But you were lucky; you escaped with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises.”

  “I know this!” I yelled. A familiar aching started inside my chest, threatening to tear me up from the inside out.

  Amanda didn’t say anything for a moment. She just looked at me, eyes pitiless as she watched the tears fall down my cheeks. She leaned over and pulled a sheet of paper from the desk and held it out for me to see.

  I had to blink a few times so the tears didn’t blur my vision.

  It looked like medical records of some sort. In the top right-hand corner of the paper was a name. Evelyn Hale. My mother’s name. And on the left-hand side, Circling Pines Mental Health Clinic. Oh God, hadn’t someone broken into the clinic not that long ago and stolen patient medical information? My stomach roiled. I blinked several more times, the documents becoming clearer. I skimmed the paper, unsure of what Amanda wanted me to see. It was a medical list of my mother’s many previous conditions. Someone had highlighted the top one in bright pink.

  Chronic depression, it read.

  I cleared my throat before I spoke. “My mother killed herself.”

  “We know.” There was no mistaking the unforgiving edge to Amanda’s tone. Her eyes flashed as she bent down toward me. “What else do you remember about back then?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that would stem the tears, but they continued their steady path down my cheeks. “Darkness,” I answered in a whisper. “That’s all I remember.”

  I felt her hand wrap around my wrist. Tight. Painfully so. “Think,” Amanda snarled. “Think, Ava.” But there was nothing. Nothing but swirling darkness, as thick and as impenetrable as a concrete wall.

  “I can’t. I can’t. How can I remember something when there’s nothing there?”

  I heard Amanda breathe in a deep breath of frustration. I opened my eyes.

  She said, “You saw it.”

  There was a pause.

  “I-I saw what?”

  “You saw your mother kill herself.” My heart beat faster; my stomach contracted and then heaved as though I was going to be sick.

  “No…no, I…don’t remember,” I whispered. “How do you know any of this? You’re lying. You have to be lying.”

  “Kesley” was Amanda’s simple answer, though it meant no sense to me.

  “What?”

  “Kesley told us. She told us everything. The summer after your father died, your mother suggested it would be best for you to head up to your grandmother’s. She was old, you know. And your mom said she wanted you and Kesley to spend some time with her before she died. But really, she wanted to be alone. You refused to go. So it was just you and your mother, alone at home while Kesley stayed in Vancouver for a month.

  “You weren’t supposed to be home, Av
a. You were supposed to be in day care for the morning—you know that one just down the street from your house? Yeah, well, you didn’t like it there apparently. You slipped through the back gates an hour before your mother was supposed to pick you up for the day. It wasn’t far from where you lived, so you were able to find your way back home—”

  “I can’t remember any of this!”

  “I’m getting to that, bitch,” snarled Amanda. Her fingers trembled, and she raised her hand.

  “Amanda, no—” I heard Rafe yell out from somewhere behind me, but it was already too late. Amanda threw back her hand and swung it forward, slapping me across the face. Hard. My head snapped to the side, tears of pain stinging the back of my eyes. I breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the stinging on my right cheek.

  “That wasn’t necessary,” Rafe said through gritted teeth.

  “Speak for yourself,” Amanda muttered. Silence fell, and nobody seemed willing to break it. My cheek stung, and the places where the rope had cut into my wrists and ankles burned.

  Amanda leaned against the wall. As far from me as she could get. “Your mother was chronically depressed, Ava, so she took herself from the world. You were there, waiting, just outside your kitchen where your mother was. She had a knife in her hand.”

  A blade raised high. Light pouring from the window. A voice: frail, unsure, broken, saying, “Ava. Go. Please, just go!” And then…blackness.

  A flashback I’d had before. A flashback. Now I knew it for what it was. Not a dream, not a nightmare.

  I pressed my eyes closed. The aching in my chest had intensified like fire. “I don’t want to hear any more of this, Amanda,” I said. “Please, stop.”

  She continued like I hadn’t spoken. “She stabbed herself—right there and then. I guess you could say you were at the wrong place, wrong time.” Her mouth twisted into an ugly expression I couldn’t decipher. “And you saw everything.” She placed a heavy emphasis on the last word, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I was glad I couldn’t fully remember that part.

  “And do you know what happened next?” said Amanda.

  “No, Amanda, I don’t,” I said in a flat voice.