The Damned

by Jennifer Snyder

  “That should be interesting.” My father’s words were about as bland as my mother’s mashed potatoes. He’d lost interest as soon as she mentioned the two-book deal.

  Chelsea held up her hand and flashed me the number five. I knew what the gesture meant; she was giving our parents five minutes before they began arguing over something stupid. The four of us could never have a meal without an argument, and when Chelsea was here, it was even worse. She didn’t bite her tongue or try to slink away like I did; she jumped right in and added whatever she could to what was being said.

  “I think it will be. I have a lot of research to do with this one though.” Mom moved a slice of meat loaf around on her plate.

  The sight of it turned my stomach. I took another tiny bite of mashed potatoes, hoping to force the bile down my throat. This was only the second thing I’d eaten today, the first being half a piece of toast first thing this morning. Over the last few weeks, I managed to lose another five pounds. I lived off coconut water and chewing gum most days. My theory was that the water helped my muscles stay hydrated while giving me a little nourishment at the same time. The gum tricked my stomach into thinking I was eating food.

  “I have some news too.” Dad set his fork down and drew his fingers together in a steeple, pressing them to his lips. “I’ve been offered a job in Atlanta.”

  “Atlanta?” Mom repeated.

  “Yes, Atlanta, and I think I’m going to take it. It’s too good of an offer to pass up.”

  “Are we not going to discuss this first?” Mom questioned him.

  I was glad she had said something, because my voice was frozen in my throat. I needed to know what this meant. Did this mean we were moving?

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Dad insisted. As though those words weren’t shocking enough, his next statement nearly made me faint. “It won’t affect the three of you, because I’m making the move alone.”

  Mom dropped her fork. The metal clanked against the porcelain plate and echoed through the silent room. “What do you mean, you’re going alone?”

  My eyes darted to my father; his face was hard set and determined. In an instant, I knew this wasn’t some spur of the moment decision. It was something he had been preparing to say for a while.

  “Exactly that, I’m going alone, Carol. Things haven’t been right between us for years.” He paused in his explanation, which gave my mother all the time she needed to jump in.

  “Don’t. Don’t do this now. Not in front of the girls,” she demanded. “This is a conversation that needs to happen in private.” She picked her fork up, ready to act as though nothing had been said—that my father hadn’t basically told her he was leaving us. For good.

  While I wanted to focus on the strength my mother was somehow finding the courage to project, I couldn’t. All I could do was replay my father’s last words.

  Ever since I was a little girl, my parents had fought and argued. Sometimes it was over stupid, trivial things, and others it was about things that seemed to matter largely to grownups. Their arguments were always expected. There was not one time that I could remember seeing them last a week without fighting. While this was true, they did have their moments where they would laugh and stay up late, talking for hours. Chelsea and I had always thought of those moments as glue, sticking them together for a little longer. While we weren’t naïve in thinking that an unstable relationship such as theirs would last forever, I had foolishly thought it would at least make it until I graduated from high school.

  Now, that didn’t appear to be the case. My father was leaving us.

  “Both of them are old enough to understand what’s happening, Carol. They’re not children anymore,” Dad insisted. “This decision affects them as well, and I won’t tiptoe around it for the sake of their feelings or yours.”

  “I understand they aren’t babies anymore, but they are still our children, Scott, regardless of their age, and I don’t think any child should be privy to a conversation such as this.” Mom nearly shouted.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I watched them have the longest, ugliest stare down in the history of their relationship. I waited for Chelsea to say something. This was her area of expertise. She hardly ever remained silent in moments like this. When I glanced at her, she appeared to be as dumbfounded by the news as I was. It was obvious she didn’t know what to say to shatter this crippling silence pressing down on us all.

  “Neither one of them has been blind to all the arguments over the years, nor are they dull or dimwitted. They both know what our relationship has been like. This isn’t some shock, Carol,” Dad pressed.

  Mom set her fork down, but still managed to hold my father’s stare. “I know that, but it still doesn’t justify having this conversation in front of them, or worse…with them. What are you thinking, Scott?” She rubbed the area between her eyes and a loud sigh escaped her.

  “I’m thinking that I’m done, to be perfectly honest.” He leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Wow,” Chelsea muttered.

  My mother’s hands moved to cover her face as her head dipped down. I was shocked at how harsh my father was being. Over the years, I had always thought he was brave. There was a level of respect for him engraved in my mind because of how he so easily put up with such a horrible woman. While I understood that everyone had a snapping point, I didn’t know my father’s would be so direct and cruel. For the first time in my life, I actually felt sorry for my mother and a tad bit defensive.

  “I can’t believe you.” My eyes narrowed as they shifted toward him.

  “I’m sorry, Emory. I’m not trying to be an ass here; there just isn’t any nice way to say this.” He threw his hands up. “I don’t want to lie to you or your sister. I feel like you’re both grown enough to understand the reasons for this decision.”

  My mother started to sob. The sound echoed off the walls of our formal dining room, and I couldn’t sit there any longer. I had to get up. I had to leave this room. My entire life was busting apart at the seams right there at the dinner table. I agreed with my mother—this wasn’t a conversation Chelsea or I should be present for. This was something they should talk about in private, and then break the news to us once everything was hashed out and settled.

  “I don’t think I care to be here for this argument.” My eyes darted around the table, taking in each of their faces. My mother was still sobbing in her hands. My sister was sitting back in her chair with disbelief and shock widening her eyes. My father had resumed eating his meal with this little half-smile twisting the corners of his mouth. It was almost as though he were gloating about causing such an uproar. Never had the desire to reach out and smack someone coursed through me so strongly.

  Slamming my hands on the tabletop, I pushed myself up and headed out of the room. I made it to the threshold before black dots clouded my vision and my legs beneath me grew heavy as the room spun. I came crashing down without warning. The sensation of being completely present in my mind, but unable to control my body didn’t hit me this time.

  Instead, it was complete blackness engulfing me instantly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  COLE

  After Emory left, I messed around on my board for a while, wondering what I should say to her and when. How did a person go about broaching a topic like that? Now I knew how Julie and Nick felt about my cutting.

  Deciding to take a break, I pulled my pack of cigarettes out and lit one. Flipping the lighter around between my fingers, I concluded that I would say something to her tonight, that somehow I would find a way to broach the subject before the night ended.

  After scooping up my board, I headed through the trees toward Julie’s place. Once I stepped into the backyard, I heard the sounds of screaming and yelling. I paused and listened for a second, trying to figure out where the commotion was coming from and who it was. Pinpricks of panic stabbed through me.

  It was Emory, and she was hysterical.

>   I’d never heard her argue with her parents, but the tone she was using sent chills along my spine. Dropping my board in the center of the yard, I ran toward her voice. When I rounded the corner of her house, I spotted her fighting her parents as they attempted to force her into a car.

  “I’m not going!” she screamed as she thrashed about, but I could tell she was nearly exhausted, with not much fight left in her.

  “You’re making a bigger deal of this than what it is.” Her father gripped her upper arms and jerked her backward. “Just get in the damn car and stop it, Emory.”

  “Hey, leave her alone!” I rushed toward them, ready to knock her father out if I needed to.

  “Cole! Cole, please don’t let them make me go!” Emory shouted. “Tell them, tell them I’m fine!”

  Once I was directly in front of her, Emory’s father released her, and she collapsed into my arms. My eyes darted to both her parents, taking in their distraught and horrorstricken expressions, before shifting to another girl’s, who I assumed was the sister she had talked so much about. It was clear Emory’s mother had been crying; her eyes were a bright florescent green magnified by her tears. Her father was bent over his knees, running a hand through his hair as he attempted to catch his breath. Her sister stood chewing her fingernails. And Emory, she was trembling in my arms as little sobs fell from her lips and her tears dampened my T-shirt.

  What had I stepped into? What the fuck was going on?

  “Come on,” her dad motioned toward me. “Let’s go inside. Just bring her inside.”

  I did as I was told, not knowing if I had any other options.

  Once the door closed behind us all, Emory’s mom attempted to pry her from my arms. She went without much of a fight, leaving me standing at the entrance to their house with her father, a man I had never met.

  His eyes narrowed on me. “Did you know?”

  “Did I know what?” I was lost. What the fuck was going on here?

  His lips pressed into a thin line as he gave me this look that said he didn’t believe I had no idea what he was asking. “Did you know that she wasn’t eating? Has she passed out with you around before?”

  The floor slipped out from under my feet, and the fancy foyer I stood in spun. I had been right earlier.

  I shook my head. “I’d suspected, but hadn’t thought of a way to ask her.” My eyes shifted to where she sat in the other room, curled in her mother’s arms, looking so small and fragile. “She’s been passing out?”

  “Yes, she’s done it twice now.” He exhaled a deep breath, and then brought a hand up to rub his forehead. “We were attempting to take her to the hospital after she blacked out during dinner. That’s what all of this was about.” He waved his hand in her general direction.

  Hospital? The severity of the situation hit me then. Emory was sick.

  “She needs to get some help.” Her father continued to talk to me as though he didn’t know I was drowning in a sea of churning emotions caused by his previous words. “I’ve heard about you. Emory’s mother has mentioned you a few times.”

  I scoffed, refusing to meet his stare. My eyes were still locked on Emory, and my mind was still wondering, not only how I had missed all the signs leading up to this moment with her, but also if my presence in her life had pushed her farther down this road.

  I’d always thought of myself as a bad seed, toxic, one of the damned. Was it possible that I had pulled Emory along with me down my path of self-destruction unintentionally—that I had been the catalyst that led her to this moment?

  “I doubt she had anything good to say about me.” I crammed my hands into my front pockets and fingered the lighter in my right one.

  “No. She didn’t.” He chuckled. My eyes darted to him then. How could he laugh at a time like this? “She thought you were going to hook Emory on drugs just by breathing the same air as her.”

  “She’s not the first to think that about me.”

  It was the truth. Countless times, I had been the act of rebellion girls sought to piss their parents off and gain some negative attention from them because apparently negative attention was better than no attention at all.

  “I thought she was right, you know? We talked with Emory about you quite a few times, but she refused to listen. She refused to stay away.” He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper-colored hair. “I’m glad she didn’t listen to us because I think you’re the only way we will ever be able to get her the help she needs.”

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t move. How was I supposed to talk her into getting help when some could say I needed the same sort of help?

  “Carol.” Her dad walked into the living room where Emory was huddled against her mother. “Let’s give them some time.”

  Carol’s eyes drifted to me. I could see her indecision at leaving her daughter alone with me while she was in such a fragile state reflected in them. I waited with a pounding heart for her to tell me to leave, but she didn’t.

  “Okay.” She untangled herself from Emory and stood. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, honey.” She brushed her hand against Emory’s back, and then motioned to her sister to follow her.

  Emory didn’t respond. She remained in the same position, folded in on herself, as her mother walked away. My feet wouldn’t move forward, no matter how much I wanted them to. The sight of her so completely broken—because her secret was now out for all of us to judge—wrecked me. I knew this feeling; I knew it well. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago when Nick had seen my secrets and pulled Julie in on the entire thing.

  Swallowing hard, I started toward her. The second I sat beside her on the couch, she broke all over again, this time with her arms wrapped around me. I held her without saying a word. I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but it was all I could do in the moment—just hold her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EMORY

  Cole’s arms were the only thing holding me together. Inside, I was shattered beyond repair from the things that I had done, the things I wanted to continue to do, the battle I felt I was losing, and the humiliation of my secret obsession being revealed.

  He was the only one who understood me. Without uttering a single word, I knew that he did because I had seen his scars.

  “Talk to me.” Cole’s words broke the silence I had been so comfortable with.

  I didn’t speak. What was there to say?

  I tilted my head to the side and stared down at his forearm. A pink circular scar caught my attention. Reaching out, I caressed the raised mark. It was smooth and soft beneath my fingertip.

  “Where did this come from?” My mind was so focused on the scar that I hadn’t realized the question passed my lips until it was too late.

  “I did it to myself,” Cole answered simply. There was no sense of emotion in his words, and I knew if I were to look at his face, it would be devoid of any emotion as well.

  His answer wasn’t shocking; I knew he had done it to himself. What I really wanted to know was why. I couldn’t bring myself to ask though. Maybe this was why we were sitting here in silence, because neither of us knew how to word the questions we wanted to ask. They weren’t standard questions; they were questions that would tear what little whole pieces of us remained into tiny shreds, exposing us even more than we already were.

  “They want me to see a doctor, or a shrink, or something.” The silence was no longer comforting; it was suffocating and charged with emotions that neither of us wanted to feel and words that were better left unsaid. “First, they want me to go to the hospital to make sure everything is all right.”

  Cole’s hand moved to cover mine as I continued to stroke his scar. My hand froze at the weight of his touch. “You should.”

  I shifted to glance at him at the same time my heart broke. How could he side with them? He had seen how horrible my mother could be firsthand on more than one occasion. He had heard the arguments between my parents.

  He understood me, didn’t he? I wasn
’t broken. Didn’t he see that?

  My brows furrowed together. “Why would you say that?”

  His index finger traced a small, unseen pattern across the top of my hand. I stared at him, wondering what he was thinking, wishing his face would show me some sort of emotion. Did he think I was sick, that I was disturbed?

  “I’m not saying I’m choosing sides here, all I’m saying is that I’ve been wondering if something had been going on with you for a few weeks. You’ve…” he trailed off, preferring to chew his bottom lip before continuing. “You’ve lost a lot of weight lately, haven’t you?”

  My stomach knotted. This was not what he was supposed to be saying right now. He was supposed to be telling me to forget everything my parents were saying, that I was fine—beautiful, perfect, absolutely perfect.

  But he wasn’t. Instead he was agreeing with them.

  I slumped against the couch, pulling my hand from his in the process, and crossed my arms over my chest. Tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill over any second. “No.”

  It was a lie. I’d lost nearly twelve pounds in the last three months.

  “I know that’s a lie.” Cole dipped his head so that he was eye level with me. He reached out and trailed his fingertip along the waistband of my shorts. The sensation that coursed through me was sinful. “I know because that bone right there—” He pushed against my hip bone, which protruded even while I was sitting. “—never used to stick out so much, Emory.”

  I slapped his hand away and pulled my knees up to my chin. He didn’t get to touch me like that and then say such horrible things. I wasn’t that skinny—not yet anyway.

  “Don’t shut me out, Emory. Let me in. I’m not judging you. I promise. Hell, I’m just as screwed up as you, if not more.” He dropped to his knees in front me and gripped my hips as he kissed my shins. “Why? Just explain to me why you’ve been doing it.”