“Will you put it on for me?”
It wasn’t a romantic moment. Sam’s huge hands weren’t built for dainty work, fumbling with the ends of the bracelet and trying numerous times to maneuver the strands into something vaguely resembling a knot. But Kayla didn’t mind the delay. It meant that Sam’s hands lightly tickled the inside of her wrists, which felt, at that moment, like the most intimate touch in the world.
“There you go.” He stood back, admiring his shoddy handiwork. He laughed at the clumsy knot, bigger than the bead itself. “You’ll never be able to get that off now. I’m going to be with you wherever you are in the world.”
Kayla looked up at him and smiled. “I hope so.”
Chapter 12
May 4, Thailand
KIDS, AS A general rule, were good judges of character. They sensed an aura about a person that most adults had lost the ability to recognize. And they flocked around Sam like he was a shiny new toy, clinging onto his legs and giggling manically for no obvious reason.
After Kayla was presented with the friendship bracelet, the group spent just over two weeks in Kanchanaburi. They visited Erawan National Park, exploring the grounds through the metropolis of wooden footbridges and swimming in the freshwater pools, which were fed by seven tiers of tumbling waterfalls. They attended an open air Thai cooking lesson, which saw them peruse the aromatic food markets for fresh ingredients to use in their dishes. Russia and Dave got rather carried away and held a competition to see who could use the most varied range of herbs and spices in their menu. Russia won, but the chef wasn’t too impressed.
They also went on a temple tour, where they learned all about Buddhism, and practiced their own meditations at Daen Maha Mongkol Meditation Center. When Kayla originally read the itinerary, she’d expected to find the whole day awkward and embarrassing, and already planned to mock the entire ordeal with the group afterward. She’d never been a religious person, but was strangely moved by the experience.
They entered the center by crossing the teak bridge over Mae Nam Khwae Noi, changed into the plain white shirts and trousers provided to them, and paid their respects to the wooden Buddha image in the meditation pavilion. This, Kayla had found cringe-worthy. But the overwhelming tranquility of the whole sanctuary was intoxicating; the more she was exposed to it, the more peace-drunk she felt. She found herself experiencing pangs of jealousy toward the three hundred residents who lived there all year round. It was basic, sure. Nothing extravagant. There were no smart phones, social media, or reality TV. Perhaps that was why she had never witnessed those serene smiles in the Western world. The relaxed, tension-free expressions would make the Botox industry redundant, if the movement was to catch on.
After an afternoon of guided meditations, she had turned to Sam and smiled. She whispered, “I feel so . . . you know?”
“I know,” he replied. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. Every inch of her body tingled.
It hadn’t lasted, of course. As soon as she’d heard deep house music again and spoken at a higher volume than a murmur and smelled exhaust fumes, the illusion was shattered.
They had arrived in Sangkhlaburi, close to the Burmese border, five days ago to begin their planned volunteer fortnight. Most of the Escaping Grey group had opted to aid the local children in a holistic community center, where their sole job was to ensure that the kids had fun. Kayla was just grateful for the chance to escape Oliver’s sleazy gaze and slimy comments, and spend time with some adorable little people with tiny feet and absolutely no concept of the evil in the world.
“This language barrier is doing wonders for my creativity.” Sam laughed as a swarm of Thai kids ran around his feet. “Trying to communicate with kids who think I’m speaking gibberish is forcing me to think outside the box. Gotta get inventive with my silly dances and comic facial expressions.” He mimicked a pig’s oink with alarming accuracy, forcing the tip of his nose into a snout with his index finger and waddling around like an overweight swine. The kids fell about with laughter, but not half as much as Kayla did.
Kayla wished she was good with kids. She tried blowing raspberries, sticking her tongue out, and playing the timeless “I’ve got your nose” trick her dad had always played on her, but could never illicit the same laughter that naturals like Sam could. Most children wrinkled their noses, looked at her like an especially smelly sock, and turned around to see where the real funny people were.
That night would essentially be the start of their weekend. They’d arrived in the Sangkhlaburi district on a Sunday and were thrown straight into the deep end on Monday morning, working long hours every day since. It was worlds apart from the party trip they’d been on thus far, and while Kayla had appreciated the change of pace, she was looking forward to letting her hair down a little. That she’d be asleep before nine P.M. was, however, entirely likely.
Russia ambled over to her. She had an altogether lackluster attitude toward children, and begrudged them for robbing her of precious sleep. She needed at least ten hours a night to function as a proper human being. Suppressing a yawn, she said, “What do you say to the idea that tonight, instead of partying in a club, because I’m too damn tired for that, we should chill out with some cheap wine, cheap cigarettes, and a little bag of somethin’ special?” She winked at Kayla, patting the pocket of her faded denim shorts. It took Kayla a second to realize what she meant.
“Russia! You can’t bring weed to a kids’ community center!” Kayla hissed, though eh
he couldn’t resist shaking her head and chuckling. She had to admire her friend’s blatant disregard for socially acceptable behavior.
“Sure I can. It’s not like I’m going to grind it up and put it in their rice soup. Although that would be entertaining . . . Please, Kay? Let’s get stoned, laugh at nothing, and have the best night’s sleep of our damn lives.”
Kayla laughed. “Okay. Sounds good.”
What harm could it possibly do?
“I’M GOING TO jump! I swear I’m going to do it!”
Cannabis, it seemed, did little to subdue Dave’s hyperactivity. He was perched on the edge of Saphan Mon, the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. Though long, it didn’t look as sturdy as it perhaps should. Dave had watched some native kids jump off the rickety structure into the lake below, and decided that he too should explore his rebellious side. Once he’d clambered up there, he had a change of heart, and had spent the last ten minutes as a performing monkey for his group of friends, who were rolling around on the lake edge hooting with laughter. “You sound like a bunch of owls! You twats. I’m going to jump! Honestly!”
Kayla thought her appendix might burst, as her sides were splitting with uncontrollable hysteria. Sam was clutching onto her knee, shaking silently with tears streaming down his cheeks. Russia lay on her back with her hands behind her head, sporting a dopey Cheshire Cat grin across her face. She was more of a seasoned professional when it came to smoking joints, and was much more relaxed than her desperately uncool companions. She gazed at them like a lioness might look proudly at her cubs. Her intoxicated, incoherent little cubs.
Bling, however, was completely sober and somehow impervious to the merriment of the situation. “Dave, get down from there, you idiot!” she called, met only by the echoes of her friends’ howls bouncing off the wooden bridge.
Russia, in contrast, tried a different tactic. “Dave, if you jump off I’ll shag you.” Bling thumped her on the arm. “What? We’ve already done it, it’s not like that’s enough to make him ju—”
They heard a plunging splash, followed by the fizzing of foam and the splutters of a man who’d forgotten to take a breath before he leapt blindly into a lake. Russia grinned even wider, narrowing her eyes and nodding her head slowly. “Well, I think that says a lot for my sexual aptitude. Anyone want another drag?” She gestured toward Sam with the glowing remains of the spliff.
“Oh God, I’m the worst med student ever,” Sam laughed, accepting the offer. “You know”—he inhaled deeply, barely disguising the violent cough he clearly needed to release—“I think I like weed after all. Maybe I’m more of a bad-ass than you all thought. Next thing you know I’ll be injecting heroin into my arms, gagging for my next hit.”
They all laughed.
THE GUESTHOUSE WHERE they were staying in Sangkhlaburi was a tiny tin shack with a corrugated roof and a worn veranda out front. The plot it stood on was part faded grass, part overgrown plants with a wild floral border, and because the building was a bungalow, the flora seemed to dwarf the structure.
When they returned from Saphan Mon, dazed and sleepy and altogether a happy bunch of people, the owner was sitting in a grubby plastic chair on the veranda, smoking a roll-up and blowing lazy smoke rings into the warm evening air. There was no sign of the rest of the Escaping Grey group, who had left for a dinner reservation at a local restaurant a couple of hours ago.
As they were walking up the dusty path, Kayla felt a big hand gently close around hers. It was more fumbly than romantic, but it still gave her goose bumps. She turned to face its owner.
Sam was smiling at her, half coy, half relaxed. “Fancy going for a walk?” he asked, just quietly enough so the others couldn’t hear him. “It’s still so warm. Maybe we can catch the sunset if we hurry.”
“Sure,” Kayla said, returning his grin.
Shouting their excuses to the other three, she and Sam took off back down the path, trying desperately hard not to trip on the dusty, stone-studded ground. The others looked totally bewildered.
After slowing their pace to a canter and trying to catch their breath, they walked side by side for a few minutes. Sam chitchatted in disjointed half sentences, losing his train of thought and jumping straight onto another. A lingering effect of the two puffs of weed he’d smoked. Kayla couldn’t help but grin as he erupted into borderline hysteria at the sight of a butterfly.
Eventually they found themselves down by a river. They’d had to navigate some rickety wooden steps and overgrown shrubbery to get to the banks, where Sam promptly flopped to the ground and lay back, sighing. Kayla sat down next to him with only a fraction more grace.
The gushing water, hazy evening light, and scent of frangipani made Kayla want to curl up and nap, but the sight of Sam’s toned stomach poking out from beneath his gray cotton T-shirt as he stretched was enough to make her heart pound through her pot-induced haze. She turned on her side to face him, propping herself up on an elbow.
“Doesn’t home seem like thousands of miles away?” she said dreamily, drawing out her words in a relaxed drawl.
“Kayla . . . home is thousands of miles away,” Sam said, and laughed so hard that Kayla worried he’d rupture his spleen. “Five thousand, eight hundred and forty-seven miles, to be precise.”
She shoved his shoulder playfully. His giant frame barely moved. He clutched his side, almost breathless with laughter. “Smart-ass. You know what I mean.”
He shoved her back just as playfully, except Sam was much stronger than she was, and the push sent her rolling down the bank, laughing too hard to steady herself. He rolled after her—an inelegant log roll Kayla’s sixth grade gymnastics teacher would have abhorred.
Sam ended up lying on his chest next to Kayla, their arms pressed against each other. He made a pillow with his hands, palms flat against the ground, and rested his temple sleepily on top of them. His eyes were crinkled and twinkling as he gazed at her. “You know I just saved your life.”
Kayla spluttered. “Saved my life? How?”
“Stopped you from rolling into the river. You’d have been swept away by the current and hurtling toward a waterfall if it weren’t for me.”
“You pushed me, you idiot—”
The words were stolen from her mouth as Sam leaned over and kissed her, so gently she could barely feel it. She shivered despite the humid river air. He pulled away, shyness creeping in, and gave a dimply smile.
Kayla pushed herself up and rolled him onto his back, lowering herself so she was lying on top of him, their chests pressed together and their legs intertwined. His hands rested on the small of her back, pulling her closer into him. His body was warm and hard. She sighed.
And in the moment before she kissed him back, there was something, something on the tip of her tongue—something she needed to say, except she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
Chapter 13
July 11, England
THE MORNING AFTER the first string of nightmares plagued her sleep, Kayla knew she had to get out for a run.
Peering out of her bedroom window, she saw that it was, at least, dry. The fog that often clung to the Northumbrian coastline sat stubbornly in her garden, a thick miasma enveloping her house like a sinister blanket. Hopefully the rays of the ever-optimistic northern sunshine would burn through the mist and the ground would visibly sizzle like they often did after a thunder shower on a hot day. She was starting to miss the heat.
Not allowing herself the luxury of forethought, Kayla pulled on her beloved grubby trainers, which were still peppered with teeth marks from when they’d brought Max home as a puppy, and slammed the door shut behind her. Here goes.
Kayla knew the first mile would be easy, as usual, then miles two and three would hurt. A lot. But if she could smash through the mile-three wall, it’d feel effortless, and she’d experience that euphoric, untouchable sensation of hitting her stride, finding a nice breathing rhythm, and letting the endorphins work their magic. And she desperately needed some magic.
As predicted, mile one passed by without much difficulty, and she weaved deftly through the trees that sprung up through the fog in front of her. It was nice to know that a three-month stint of sedentary living hadn’t completely destroyed her stamina. After the first mile came the inevitable struggle. Her right knee twinged, causing her to put less pressure on that foot. The added impact on her leg left resulted in invisible shards of glass tearing into her shin. Breathing became labored and her chest hurt as she struggled to gulp down the furry fog that seemed to have completely replaced the fresh country air she was used to.
The urge to slow down to a complete halt was overwhelming. All she could think about was how much easier it’d be to stop and walk back. Until that wasn’t all she could think about.
Last night’s dreams flitted into her brain in rapid beams. A sadistic slide show.
Veiny hands around Gabe’s throat. His eyes bulging.
Run through it.
Kayla tried to dial 999. She couldn’t type in the right combination of keys. 997 #99 989. She crushed her phone in her hand, and pain shooting through her palm as the shattered glass screen sliced straight through the skin. Blood drenched the cream carpet.
Just keep running.
Gabe’s face was purple. Frozen in a single expression of terror as his frantic gasps slowed and he realized that this was it. The end.
One foot in front of the other.
The light behind his eyes was snuffed out, like moist fingers crushing a candle flame.
The person whose hands were wrapped around Gabe’s airwaves turned to face Kayla. Their face was blurred.
Maybe if I stop running, I’ll be able to focus on the face.
Kayla stopped running, crouched down with her hands on her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.
But the image was gone. All that remained was a black canvas flecked with kaleidoscope splodges of light, caused by running too fast and not inhaling enough oxygen. She pressed her fingertips into her eyelids and the spots intensified, but the face wouldn’t materialize.
“HOW ARE YOU feeling today?” Dr. Myers peered at Kayla, who hadn’t even showered since her curtailed run, over the rim of her glasses.
Kayla paused. There were some things that shouldn�
��t be shared with a near stranger. “I’m okay.” She dug her nails into her palm again, searching for relief that would never last.
Her shrink leaned back in her chair. “Can you tell me a little bit about your childhood? How did you and Gabriel get along when you were growing up?”
The change of subject caught Kayla off-guard. It wasn’t something she’d thought about in a while, and for some reason the mention of her childhood flipped her stomach. It was a sharp downward jerk, as if lassoed by an invisible rope. And it only happened once. But it happened. “It was fine, really. Average. We squabbled like most kids, but were perfectly happy to play Monopoly together five minutes later. Just a normal sibling relationship.” As far as she knew, she was telling the truth. So why did she feel so uneasy?
Dr. Myers nodded. “What was the age difference between you?”
“He was younger than me by nearly three years.”
“And do you remember as far back as when he was born? Do you remember how you felt when you had to suddenly share your parents’ attention with him?”
“Actually, I do remember that far back. Before he was born, my mum drank a lot, though I didn’t really understand that at the time. I just knew that the nanny had to look after me after hours, overnight, on weekends, because my mum wasn’t able to. And my dad worked away a lot, expanding the business, I think. But when my mum was pregnant, she obviously didn’t drink, so it was really nice getting to spend lots of time with her. Then they found out Gabe was really sick, and wasn’t developing properly in the womb, and my mum had a few complications. So my dad was home much more, taking care of us. I just remember feeling really happy that we were a proper family, like my school friends seemed to have. I guess I was too young to realize how selfish it was to feel glad that my unborn brother was so ill.”
Run Away Page 8
