“It’s the urgent care or the hospital using your insurance. You pick.”
She stares up at me as I walk along the path to my house. I look down into her eyes that are cut like glass from her latest tears. They’re mesmerizing green irises that draw you in.
“OK, but I need to go to a clinic in another town where there is less a chance of someone knowing me.”
We reach the front of my house, and it hits me that I can’t put her on my bike. My eyes flash to my uncle’s white work truck. I’ll drive that.
I walk over to it, and she reaches out and opens the passenger door. She winces and follows it with a hiss as I put her inside.
Looking to me, she exhales her pain before her eyes leave mine and skid down my chest. They slam on the brakes when they reach the scar over my right side near the bottom of my lung.
Her fingers reach out to it, but I jerk back, so she tilts her eyes up to meet mine.
“You have secrets, too,” she whispers.
“Everyone does. I have to run in and grab a shirt.”
“I need my ID.”
“Where is it?”
“In my purse in my bedroom. It’s brown and on my desk. Go in through the backdoor.”
I shake my head. “This is bizarre.”
“No kidding.”
Running inside my house, I grab a new t-shirt and then drive down the street to retrieve her purse.
While I stand alone in Avery Hollingsworth’s bedroom, I take a second to think about how my life has reached a whole new level of weirdness.
Avery
“Wow … Jamison Construction. They built our homes, right?”
“Yep.”
“And countless other houses and businesses in the area. So, I’m guessing your father owns the company.”
“No, my uncle does.”
“Where are your parents?” Hayden flips on the turn signal to get off the exit that’s about twenty minutes from our house. “We have to go farther.”
“You need that stitched up soon.”
“Please, one more town over. No one can find out.”
Not responding, he passes by the exit.
“Thank you for helping me. I swear I’m not doing this to get your attention.”
He glances over, displaying a smirk.
“I’m not so arrogant to assume that. I do, however, think that boyfriend of yours should be doing this instead of me.”
“He can’t find out about this, and we broke up today, anyway,” I mumble.
“Is that why this happened?”
“Not the breakup per se, but the things it brought to light added weight to the other reasons I cut. How did you get your scar?”
“I can’t share that.”
“You can trust me. I would never tell anyone.”
“The less you know about me, the better. You need to trust me on that.”
Sighing, I turn my head and gaze out the passenger window. The lack of conversation gives me time to notice that I’m clammy and nervous beyond belief.
I’m scared for another soul to know I cut, and as soon as I sign in at the clinic, others will find out. Will they try to have me committed? Can they still call my parents now that I’m eighteen?
We pull into the parking lot, and I’m relieved to see only two other cars. I open the door, and about the time my feet hit the ground, Hayden is at my side clenching my hips to balance me since the truck sits high.
I gaze up at him, and his hands clench a little tighter. The bump on the ridge of his nose suggests it may have been broken before, and the scar between his mouth and chin remind me of the one on his torso. He’s damaged, too, and I’m yearning to know how and why.
He clears his throat and releases me. We amble to the door, and I have to inhale a deep breath before I open it. Upon signing in, a woman with short red hair asks for my insurance card.
“Uh, I don’t have insurance.”
“Then you’ll need to go somewhere else. Perhaps a hospital.”
I look to Hayden.
“I got it,” he murmurs. Biting my lip, I shift back to the middle-aged lady sitting on the other side of the open window.
“I’m paying cash today.”
Lifting one of her eyebrows, she hands me paperwork.
“Fill this out, and we’ll get you back.”
As I write in the information on the forms, I’m embarrassed to sit next to Hayden. My left hand is holding his soaked t-shirt to my cut while I balance the clipboard on my lap.
The waiting room has five rows of chairs, but only a woman and a toddler are taking up the space with us. Once in a while, I steal a glimpse of Hayden, and he’s staring at the TV.
A national news channel is on that I doubt he’s paying attention to, and there’s no volume, so I’m guessing it’s a distraction from the awkwardness of this situation.
“Finished,” I whisper. Without a word, he swipes the clipboard from me and takes it to the lady at the counter. Once he returns, I find the courage to look at him again.
“Will you come back with me?”
“Why?”
“I’m scared of what they might say about the cutting, and if the doctor’s a man, I don’t want to be alone with him.”
“You’ve been alone with me.”
“You’re different … You don’t hurt me.”
His hands fist on his lap, and he breathes at a slow rate as if he’s calming himself. My name’s called, so I rise carefully, and I’m relieved when Hayden stands, too.
A guy I’d guess to be in his mid-twenties sizes us up before he leads me to a room. He’s in blue scrubs and has buzzed blond hair that’s far different than Hayden’s longer, curly strands.
“Hi, I’m Jay, a medical assistant.”
“Hi, I’m Avery, and this is, uh, my friend Hayden.”
Jay unrolls clean white paper to cover the table. I climb up onto it and let out an “ouch” before lying back. He takes my blood pressure, which is a little elevated. Next, he removes the t-shirt and examines my cut.
“What happened here?”
“I was upset and … and I did it.” His uneasy eyes only take a glimpse at mine.
“OK. We have a nurse practitioner on duty this evening, and she’ll be right in to take a look at it.”
The guy leaves, and as much as I try to hold in my sadness and fear, I can’t. Tears fall, so I cover my face with my arm.
“God, please stop with the fucking tears,” Hayden snaps. Surprised over his aggression, I seal my eyes shut tighter beneath my arm and suck in a breath. Like I’ve done countless times, I hold the air in and wish I could stop breathing altogether.
“I’m sorry, Avery,” he mutters. “I just … I can’t take hearing it because I want to fix your pain, and I don’t know how.”
I sniffle and brush my arm across my face to dry it.
“It’s not your job to fix it, and it’s wrong of me to keep putting you in that position. I won’t return to the woods, and I’ll pay you back soon. We can pretend we never spoke.”
Someone enters the room, so I bring my arm down. A woman looks to Hayden, me, and then the chart.
“I’m Ms. Richardson, the nurse practitioner. I hear you need stitches. Can I take a look?”
“Sure.” She’s a beautiful woman, maybe mid-thirties. Her strawberry blond hair is long, shiny and straight. Her makeup was applied with care, and she’s dressed impeccably beneath an open white lab coat.
I can’t help but wonder if this is the profession she chose for herself. Was she born into upper class and expected to practice medicine? Was she raised in poverty and fought to make her dream come true?
So many scenarios and questions are running through my head. My parents have always withheld something from me that would cost them nothing yet would make me love and respect them immensely.
It’s the encouragement to make my dreams come true. The dreams only I create for myself.
Hayden
I’m coming unglued in th
is small room, and I need to get away from the chick that’s making me irrational. I have this desire to hold her and fix her and all this other foreign shit.
Hearing she’s single made me way too damn happy, and her proclamation to soon leave me alone disappointed me. I want to kill a teacher for touching her and injure anyone else who’s causing her pain.
I want to save her from her demons when I can’t battle my own.
“We’ll get this stitched up and talk after,” Ms. Richardson says with a comforting smile before she slips out of the room.
I rub my face with my hands and stand to stretch. Within five minutes, she’s back with Jay and a slew of supplies.
While Avery receives stitches, a flashback to last June unearths itself. I was in the hospital with a collapsed lung and a ton of stitches, but I didn’t get to go home once I was discharged.
I likely would’ve been killed, so people were paid off left and right to ensure everyone in Arizona thought I was dead except for my father, uncle and cousin.
“All done,” the nurse practitioner says. She glances to Jay who nods and leaves the room. Her attention returns to Avery, and she smiles from the silver rolling stool she’s sitting on.
“Can I call you Avery?”
“Sure, and can I sit up now?”
“Of course.” She stands from her stool to help ease her up, and I wonder if it should’ve been me helping her. “Avery, I want to talk about your scars and cut. Would you like your friend to leave the room?”
“No. I mean, not unless he wants to.” Avery doesn’t look at me, but I don’t need to see her eyes to know she’s panicked, afraid I’ll leave.
It’s evident in her voice and the way her arm stretches out toward me. Shit, she’s reaching for my hand, needing me to be her lifeline through this.
“I’ll stay.”
“Good,” she says, smiling at me. “It’s important she have support.” She looks back to Avery. “I have to ask you … Are you feeling suicidal?”
“No. I want to get better.”
“That’s good to hear. You have several scars on your stomach. How long have you been cutting?”
“Since September.”
“Have you sought any help for this?”
“No. If my parents find out, they won’t understand.”
“Maybe not at first, but there is help available, and if you’re willing to meet with a counselor, this person could educate your parents on self-harm.”
“They would only punish me and expect me to stop on my own, which I can’t. I’ve tried.”
Ms. Richardson rolls her stool closer to the table and clasps her hand around Avery’s.
“Having treated many patients who self-injure, I recently reached out to therapists in the area who specialize in treating this behavior.
“They can determine the best course of treatment and provide you with healthy coping skill. Is this something you’ll consider?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“This is risky behavior that can lead to permanent injury or death. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is for you to seek help.” She stands and gives Avery’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it.
“Along with your discharge papers, I’ll provide you with the numbers to the counselors in our area. Please take care of yourself, Ms. Hollingsworth, and you’re welcome to contact me if you need further help.”
“Thank you so much.” The nurse practitioner leaves, and Avery lies back on the table again.
We’re alone.
We’re alone in this small room, and I haven’t a clue what to say. She appears in deep thought as she gazes at the ceiling.
“Thank you for bringing me here and staying with me.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Actually, it is a problem, and I see that now. This is heavy and personal, and I’m sure it’s uncomfortable for you. I promise not to burden you further with it.”
“Stop, OK? I don’t mind.”
“No, I’ll figure it out on my own. It’s not your respons—”
“Avery.” My harsh tone causes her to snap her head toward me. Her eyes fix on mine, and shit, what now? “I don’t want to say it aloud, but since you’re being stubborn, I’m gonna have to.”
“Say what?” she murmurs.
“Don’t disappear … I like you. However, can we work on making our time together less detrimental to your health?”
Chapter Fourteen
Avery
I give Hayden a faint smile. I can’t find my voice as I peer at him with bewilderment. His words were the last thing I expected to hear and sound the best ever.
I’m rescued by the door opening. I sit up sideways on the table with my legs dangling over the side.
Jay appears with my paperwork and goes over the instructions to care for my cut. At the bottom of the second page are phone numbers to two therapists in our area.
We reach the checkout window, and I feel more shame once Hayden hands them a wad of cash. My back is to the wall next to the window, and I’m staring at the ground.
As he waits for change, he puts his fingers under my chin and lifts it.
“Stop. No more of that shit. You hear me?”
I swallow. “I’ll pay you back soon.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
We leave the clinic, and once we’re on the road again, I replay his sweet words in my head. I never want to forget them.
He insinuated we’ll spend more time together. I need to make it fun and not depressing like it has been.
“Hey, what do you have going on over spring break?”
“I’ll be working every day for my uncle. Why?”
“I’m not going out of town or anything, so I thought maybe we could hang out, but it’s fine. I’m sure my parents will keep me busy with things.”
My phone rings, so I find it in my purse. I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello.”
“Avery … it’s Mr. Bradford.”
I shift my body to the right, away from Hayden.
“How did you get my number?”
“I asked your father for it when I emailed him. I told him I would work out a time and place for our tutoring next week, so I’m calling to give you my address.”
“I am not coming to your house.”
“Yes, you are, Avery. And it’s because you don’t want to fail physics.” God, I wish he would stop saying my name seductively. No, he needs to stop saying it period.
“Well, I can’t. I, uh, I just came back from the urgent care. I have the chicken pox. It’s a good thing schools out next week.”
Damn, I know Hayden is hearing this load of crap.
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I do. Look, I’ll stay after school the Tuesday we return.”
“I want proof, or this pop quiz I have sitting here is going to suddenly have some wrong answers. I told you I have my ways.”
“Fine. I’ll send you a picture.” I end the call before he can reply. Pulling up the internet, I type in chicken pox and search the images.
I thought it would be easy to find a picture that could be mistaken for my leg, chest or an arm even, but I’m finding nothing.
“Dammit, I thought you could find anything on the internet.”
“What’s the problem? And why did you tell someone you have the chicken pox?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“You’re going to tell me.”
“I’ll tell you if you share something first. Where did you come from? I mean, you didn’t go to our school until this year, and you have an accent from somewhere else. Where are your parents?”
He frowns and tilts his head to each side, popping his neck.
“I’m from Arizona. Born and raised there. I moved here last summer. My mom is dead, and my dad’s still in Arizona.”
“I’m sorry about your mom.”
“She’s been gone three years. Car wreck.”
; “Why did you move here?”
“I already answered your two questions.”
I huff out a breath. How little can I get away with telling him?
“That was Mr. Bradford. He wants to tutor me next week, and I don’t want to do it, so I lied and told him I have the chicken pox.”
“I know about you and him.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know enough.”
“Well, you need to forget what you think you know. I have to keep a 4.0 to get the scholarships I was awarded so I can get the hell out of my parents’ home.”
“So, you’ll screw your teacher for a grade? I was beginning to think you were different than that.”
“You asshole! Stop this truck right now.”
He glances over a couple of times.
“No, we’re on the interstate.”
“I said pull the damn truck over!” My hand is already gripping the handle, and it’s mainly so I don’t throw a punch at his face while he’s driving.
“I’m not pulling over. I’m sorry. Tell me what’s happening if you don’t want me making assumptions.”
My eyes flood with tears. How much is this stupid boy going to know about me and my messed up life?
“I would never sleep with him. I hate him. I have dreams about killing the man.”
“I’m sorry, but since you haven’t reported him ...”
“It’s not that simple. I can’t turn him in. The gossip will spread like a wildfire. I’ll be humiliated, and my parents will find a way to blame me for it. My peers will think I’m a whore.”
My words are flying out as I shake my head fast. “It would probably make the news. I’m doing everything I can to keep the creeper’s hands off of me, but he’s getting braver … more aggressive. I’m running out of time, Hayden. I’m running out of time.”
I burst into a cry as we near our exit. “God, just let me out of this truck. Please, let me out and forget we ever spoke.”
The vehicle crosses over the white line to the right side of the road, and Hayden slams on the brakes, bringing us to an abrupt stop. Some gravel at the side of the interstate flies everywhere, stirring up dust.
The surprise of it all stops my tears, and I shift to face him. He unbuckles and leans over toward me. Grabbing my cheeks, his eyes soak me in, and he seems as surprised by his actions as I am.
The Scars Keeper Page 9
