Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series)

by Thrasher, Travis

“Well, that’s good to know. Any other advice?”

  “Just remember where your strength should come from. Remember what you’ve been given. The amazing gift you’ve been given.”

  I’m not following. As usual. “You mean the ability to see you—to see the other side?”

  “The gift of God’s own Son. The gift of eternal life. The gift you received when you prayed on that train.”

  Part of me feels like that was just a rehearsal, that maybe I need to be in some church setting talking to some preacher in order to make it right.

  “You can’t make it right,” Jocelyn says. “He made it right a long time ago. Remember that, if and when you fall down. Remember when you need to get back up for the others. Remember.”

  I can’t take it anymore.

  I just want to hug her.

  I reach out to touch her, but of course I don’t touch a thing.

  I’m still standing there in the center of the rocks but suddenly also in the cloud. The fog has swooped back around and smothered me.

  I know she’s gone when I hear Mounds calling out my name.

  “I’m here,” I say.

  “Where’ve you been?” he asks.

  “Sorry, I just—I wandered off for a while.”

  Yeah, that’s it.

  Wandering off.

  “Come on over here,” Mounds tells me. “I picked up some really weird activity.”

  Yeah, I know.

  I’ve had that same thing happen from the moment I stepped foot in Solitary.

  And it’s going to continue until I finally leave. Like Poe did.

  Or like Jocelyn.

  58. The Conversation

  When I get home that afternoon, red eyes await me.

  But instead of belonging to the undead or demon dogs, they belong to my mom and Uncle Robert.

  Seeing him just sitting on the couch is strange. But seeing him in the same room as Mom is even stranger.

  It seems as if I’ve interrupted something serious and heavy.

  Mom looks like she’s been crying. Uncle Robert—I can’t tell if he’s been crying or drinking.

  “Hi Chris,” he says.

  My mom comes over and gives me a hug.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she tells me.

  I look at Robert.

  “It’s all good. Your mother and I were just having a talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About life,” Robert answers.

  “Did something happen?”

  Did someone die?

  “No. Everything’s fine.”

  Uncle Robert stands and grabs his coat.

  “You don’t need to leave,” Mom tells him.

  “I should go.”

  He looks at her, gives me a nod, and leaves.

  “What was that all about?” I ask.

  “Family stuff. Sibling stuff.”

  “Did you know—had you seen him?”

  “He visited me a couple of times in rehab. The second time I went in.”

  “Seriously?”

  Mom nods. I wonder if Uncle Robert did that in secret, or if Pastor Marsh and Staunch knew about it.

  “What sort of sibling stuff?”

  “The past,” Mom says.

  “That’s pretty vague.”

  “Chris, please.”

  Here we go again. It’s the same old thing.

  Aren’t we past the stage of not revealing stuff?

  “It was a hard conversation to have,” Mom continues, brushing back her faded blonde hair. “About our parents.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  “About how they died,” she says.

  I nod.

  I’m curious, but I’m also not mean. At least, not now. Not with Mom. Not with everything’s she’s had to deal with.

  “Robert just doesn’t want to hear certain things,” Mom adds. “But sometimes you have to get things out in the open in order to move on. And this—I believe—is one of those things.”

  Mom doesn’t say anything more about the conversation. It makes me think of Jocelyn again, how she told me her parents were killed.

  She believed they were murdered.

  I wonder if my mom has started thinking the same way. Maybe Uncle Robert doesn’t want to accept that or hear that.

  But he doesn’t leave. Mom is back, and yet he doesn’t leave.

  It makes me wonder if he’s truly given up, or if there’s still some tiny bit of hope deep down inside of him.

  Glancing at Mom, and the way she seems to be more there these days, gives me more hope as well.

  59. Surprises

  It’s a nice dream, and I manage to let myself fall into it with Kelsey at my side.

  This normal, average suburban house. Let’s say it’s far away from Solitary and these surrounding mountains.

  This soft and comfortable couch that snugly fits two, especially when they’re curled around each other.

  The quiet February night, with the chill kept outside and the warmth bundled up underneath a blanket in the family room.

  The glow of the television and the hum of the program.

  The privacy and the tranquility and the fantasy that finds the two of us next to each other, holding one another, then kissing each other.

  I’m wide awake in Kelsey’s family room, but I’m in a dream. I’m in another life, and I’m finally not running for mine. I’m warm and relaxed, and all I can think about is this wonderful girl next to me.

  The longer time ticks by and the later it gets, the more I lose myself.

  Until Kelsey seems to wake me up.

  “You better go,” she says in her gentle, sweet voice.

  I haven’t overstepped any boundaries. But I’ve made it clear that I don’t want to go, that I don’t want to move.

  “Okay,” I say, then kiss her again.

  “I don’t like you driving this late at night.”

  “Soon I’ll have my license.”

  “I still don’t like you riding that motorcycle without a helmet.”

  “I know. I’ll get one. I promise.”

  I kiss her again.

  The dream is being here by ourselves, owning this house and this life. Worrying about the kids upstairs and the bills to pay instead of the demons at the front door.

  I’d like to say I can imagine it, but I really can’t.

  I can’t imagine Kelsey being there, or anybody really. I can’t imagine anyone having the patience and the courage to stand by me and actually marry me with all my wonderful problems circling in around me.

  Better not tell her that.

  I know. I’m seventeen and a senior and shouldn’t be thinking stuff like that. But I’m no ordinary seventeen-year-old senior, so give me a break.

  Someone give me a break.

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah?”

  We’re so close, talking so soft.

  I don’t want this moment to end.

  “I meant to ask you—did you put that thing in my room?”

  I brush a strand of hair back from her face. “What thing?”

  It’s hard to pay attention.

  “It’s like some flat stone. The size of my hand.”

  Suddenly cold water douses me. The blanket is torn off us and lights blare in our eyes and sirens sound and my heart isn’t just racing but exploding.

  No.

  Of course that doesn’t really happen except in my stiffening body. I stare at her.

  “When’d you find it?”

  “Earlier this evening after we had pizza. Did you put it there?”

  No I didn’t the b
oogeyman did and do you know what this means now do you?

  “Yeah,” I lie.

  “Where’d you find something so smooth?”

  “Just up the road by the creek. Thought you might like it.”

  I’m trying not to overreact or overthink or overdo anything. I smile and kiss her again, but it’s different. Kelsey can tell.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just—probably should go.”

  I gently move my arm from underneath her and then sit up. She’s so cute in her pink sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. I had told her to get more comfortable, and she said she didn’t want to be a bum around me. But seeing her like that made me find her even more adorable, if that was possible.

  But that mood has evaporated. As warm and cozy as it might be in here, it’s still cold and dark outside.

  I don’t want to say anything more about that rock.

  At least not to Kelsey.

  When we get to the door, I give her a long hug that brings about another long kiss.

  This time, I’m the one who moves away.

  “I had a great time tonight.”

  “Chris,” Kelsey says, that dreamy look in her eyes that says it all, “I just want you to know—”

  But I move my hand and softly put it on her lips before she can complete her sentence.

  “Don’t.”

  “What?” Kelsey asks.

  “Not now. Not tonight.”

  I don’t want something big happening when something awful has already occurred.

  “But what—”

  “I want you to save those thoughts.”

  “For when?”

  “For—for another night. For a special night.”

  “Tonight was special.”

  I nod. “I’ve got something planned.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  She smiles.

  I kiss her on the cheek and then tell her good night.

  Outside in the cold, as I start the motorcycle and look around to see if anybody is nearby, I think about that rock.

  Surprises around here are usually terrifying.

  But I’m going to break that trend.

  And I’m going to make sure that the people who gave Kelsey that rock know that it doesn’t belong to her.

  It belongs to me. And if they want to do anything with it, they’ll have to do it through me.

  60. Strength

  Sleep is impossible.

  All I keep thinking about is what I’m going to do. What I need to say to Marsh when I go see him tomorrow. What I should tell Kelsey. If I should say anything to anybody.

  Round and around it goes.

  I toss and turn, then toss and turn a little more.

  Then it finally dawns on me. I mean—I keep forgetting.

  Just pray.

  So I do that.

  But as the words come out, they don’t make sense.

  How could God let stuff like this happen? How could He allow someone like Kelsey to be in danger?

  What about Jocelyn and Lily and all the others?

  I know that bad things happen to good people, even people who believe.

  Then I remember Jocelyn’s words.

  Ephesians six. Ten through twenty.

  I climb out of bed and turn on the light.

  I’d forgotten about that. I didn’t forget about seeing Jocelyn, but I had forgotten about this.

  I read the verses. They’re not just a nice little story about Moses or Peter or Jesus. I look back at the beginning of Ephesians and see that it’s a letter written by the apostle Paul—from prison.

  He talks about getting ready for battle. About fighting a war.

  About putting on God’s armor to stand against the Devil.

  One verse that reminds me of Iris.

  “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.”

  The unseen world, the dark world, the evil spirits.

  But I can see into that world and see those spirits.

  I don’t quite get things like the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness. It sounds nice, but I just don’t get it.

  But then I read this.

  “Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”

  I think about it.

  At all times.

  On every occasion.

  And the apostle Paul can talk—he’s in chains and still preaching as “God’s ambassador.”

  “So pray that I will keep on speaking boldly for him, as I should.”

  Shouldn’t he be praying for release?

  I guess that’s faith. That’s the real deal.

  What I have is kindergarten-level belief.

  It’d be cool to have that kind of strength.

  So that’s what I ask God for. Not to be released from this prison. But for strength like the writer of those words.

  Strength to know what to do.

  Strength to one day speak boldly and to know what I need to say.

  61. Serious

  I’m here at New Beginnings Church because Mr. Meiners told me it would be too soon to come to their Sunday service. He said he’ll be in touch.

  That’s what everybody says these days.

  I’ll be in touch.

  Cue the menacing “Muahaha!”

  I’m here sitting in a chair and listening to music in order to see Pastor Marsh afterward.

  That means I have to stomach another one of his twenty-minute talks.

  Today he’s talking about taking control of your life. A nice self-help pep talk that he probably copied from Dr. Phil.

  Yeah, I watch television too.

  But as Marsh talks and sounds so sickeningly sincere, I figure something out.

  This guy wants one thing and one thing only.

  Control.

  And the fact that he grew up around here and then came back means that he figured out he could have a little control in a little place for a little man. He couldn’t find it out in the big bad world so he decided to come back to this little bad town.

  And he wants me because he thinks he can control me.

  Marsh can’t control Kinner. He probably doesn’t even have a clue who and what Kinner really is. But little old Chris Buckley—there’s someone he can control. Just like his little old wife.

  So make him believe he can control me. That will be the trade-off.

  His control—the idea that he is in control—versus making sure that Kelsey is okay.

  Making sure that Kelsey stays okay.

  When the music starts playing to signal the end of the service, I already know exactly what I’m going to say to the good old pastor.

  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

  He’s got his smug politician’s smirk on his face and doesn’t seem to blink at my comment. “It’s good to see you, Chris. As always.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You always are.”

  “I just want to make sure that one thing happens.”

  He glances around and keeps smiling. Marsh definitely has a better way of being a fake around other people than someone like Staunch does.

  Then again, everybody is scared of Staunch. People aren’t supposed to be afraid of the pastor.

  “Perhaps we can talk about this at another time?”

  “I want you to protect her.”

  His face grows grim for a second as he seems to sli
p to another place. But that’s just for a second. Someone comes up and talks to him, and I just wait. I stand there and wait and don’t even think about leaving. When the pastor is finished he stares at me again.

  “I will do my best.”

  “No,” I say. “No, I need to know that she is going to be okay. I’m sorry, but I don’t think your best means anything.”

  “Some things are out of my control, Chris.”

  “Really? Even if I’m there to help?”

  He laughs for a minute, as if I’m an idiotic teenage boy who doesn’t quite get what he’s talking about.

  Which, in fact, I am.

  “She will be fine.”

  “For real?” I ask.

  “Yes. For real.”

  I’m ready to leave, but then Marsh calls my name. I turn around.

  “Just remember. It’s okay to play around. But don’t make any serious commitments.”

  “What? With Kelsey?”

  Marsh shakes his head, glances around, then grows scary serious again. “No. With God.”

  62. A Mess

  “Want a smoke?”

  Brick asks me this as we’re standing at the top of the steps of Harrington High braving the cold and the on-and-off-again drizzle.

  “Are you always going to ask me if I want a cigarette even though I’ve said no a hundred times?”

  “Seems the right thing to do.”

  I laugh. “Well, thanks, but no. I need something stronger than a smoke.”

  “Seriously?”

  I shake my head. “Just kidding.”

  “’Cause you know—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

  Occasionally I’ll hang around with skinhead here because he makes me laugh and because I don’t feel the need to be anybody else for this guy. He doesn’t have a set group of friends. Rather, Brick is a loner who everybody knows and pretty much likes.

  I wonder what will happen to him when he’s no longer at Harrington High.

  “What are you going to do after graduation?” I ask.

  “Didn’t you hear? I’m deciding between Princeton and Yale.”

  “No, thanks,” I say. “You know how hard it is to get a job after college.”

  “Yeah. And that’s now. In another four years we’ll be in a depression.”

  “Don’t joke about it,” I say.