Unbroken

by A. J. Matthews

  Kiera was aware that Dr. Schwartz was in the room with her, but her attention was focused on the figure. She thought she recognized it, but it was still hazy enough so she couldn’t be sure. She really couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman.

  She cleared her throat and started to speak, all too aware of how fragile her voice would sound.

  “You know how when you close your eyes and press on them, you see colors and images?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s like that now . . . I see . . . It’s like there’s this pressure on the back of my eyeball that’s making me see things.”

  “Like what?” Dr, Schwartz asked, his voice low and steady but sounding oh so faraway.

  “Lights . . . shifting globs of lights that are moving toward me . . . and flashes of—”

  She cut herself short and opened her eyes when she realized the light behind the figure had suddenly brightened and was morphing into a jagged white beam.

  “Oh no . . . Oh no,” she whispered as she looked around the office, startled by the dazzling brilliance of everything.

  “What is it?” Dr. Schwartz asked.

  He clasped her shoulder, but even his touch seemed strangely distant. A rush of pins and needles tingled her hands and feet. Her chest ached when she took a breath, and the air in her lungs felt stale, as if she’d been holding it too long. The antiseptic-smelling air of the exam room seemed dense with humidity. The dizziness she’d experienced earlier came back even stronger, and she whimpered as she leaned back against the examination table.

  “I don’t know if . . . I . . . I’m . . . this rush of panic just came over me,” she said in a rasping voice.

  “Does your head hurt now?”

  Kiera did a quick inventory and realized that, in spite of her nervousness, her head didn’t ache. Hazy afterimages of light still darted like shadows everywhere she looked, but they were fading.

  “Let me give you some Imitrex for the migraines,” Dr. Schwartz said, “and I’d suggest you go home and take it easy for the rest of the day. Have a nap out on the deck in the sun. You’re wound way too tight. Do you drink a lot of coffee?”

  Kiera shrugged. “I don’t think so . . . Just a cup in the morning.”

  Dr. Schwartz nodded. “These could also be caffeine-related panic attacks. You might want to cut coffee out for a while. See what happens. You’d be surprised at the reaction some people have to caffeine.”

  When he stopped talking, Kiera realized he was staring at her with an intensity she had never seen before. She knew he was worried about her but didn’t want to say too much because of how fragile she was right now.

  “Are you okay to drive? I can call Nate if you’d like.”

  Kiera shook her head no as she picked up her purse from the examination table.

  “Does Nate even know you’re here? Have you told him about what’s going on?”

  Kiera didn’t say a word, and she knew her silence condemned her.

  “I’d strongly recommend that you talk to him about this,” Dr. Schwartz said.

  “I have my cell if I need help.” Kiera patted her purse. “I’ll be fine.”

  Even as she said it, she knew Dr. Schwartz wasn’t convinced, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart like this in front of him. She was determined to get the CAT scan without telling Nate about it, and everything would be fine. She wanted to believe that she didn’t want Nate to worry, but she knew otherwise.

  “I’ll have Cheryl set up the appointment for the CAT scan and give you a call later today,” Dr. Schwartz said. “You go home and take it easy. When migraines first come on, they can be scary if you don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Yeah . . . Thanks,” Kiera said. Her voice still sounded too feeble, but there was nothing she could do but take her purse and leave. Even after she’d made it out to the car, though, a single thought lingered in the back of her mind.

  What if what I’m seeing isn’t just a trick of the eye? . . . What if it’s real?

  As she started up her car and pulled out of the parking lot onto Main Street, she had no doubt that what she had seen was the ghost of Billy Carroll.

  There was no other explanation.

  She remembered the famous statement by Sherlock Holmes, about how when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

  She remembered that night out on River Road all too clearly. She had lived with the memory of that night ever since it had happened. In some way, if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that living with that lie had ruined her life. And now that Jon was back in town, the memory was coming back even stronger to torment her.

  Even without closing her eyes, she could see Billy standing there in front of Jon’s car, his hands raised in a silent, angry gesture as he shouted something she couldn’t hear over the roaring sound of the engine. She still remembered how Billy’s face had been illuminated by the glare of the headlights—like frozen lightning—and she could imagine that image was burned so strongly into her retina and mind that it would never go away.

  Never!

  2

  A not-so-subtle gloom had settled over Kiera by the time she got home. It was a past three o’clock when she pulled into the driveway and hit the button on the garage door opener. She was absolutely wrung out and more than a little scared. The loud rattling of the garage door as it slowly rose hurt her head. When she pulled into her parking spot in the garage, she realized Nate’s Subaru wasn’t there.

  “Good,” she whispered, and then immediately felt guilty.

  If she was going to be honest with herself, she had to admit that—right now—she didn’t want to see him or anyone else. She hadn’t told him about her appointment today because she had almost convinced herself she didn’t want him to worry. She knew it was really because she wanted to deal with this alone. She didn’t want him involved. A dark cloud of mortality was pressing down on her, and she couldn’t admit to anyone—even him—how frightened she was.

  On the drive home, she wondered if what she was experiencing might not be physical after all. Was that denial, or—as crazy as it seemed—was there a chance something supernatural might be happening?

  Was the ghost of Billy Carroll haunting her?

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that it had everything to do with what had happened on out River Road that night back when she was in high school.

  At the time, she had barely been able to look at, much less save, any of the newspaper articles about Billy Carroll’s disappearance, but she had always wondered why his body had never been found. The real tragedy was Billy’s parents. His mother and father had never gotten an answer about what had happened to their son.

  How can anyone overcome the loss of a child?

  All Billy’s parents knew was their son had disappeared. Until the day she died, Billy’s mother had insisted her son had run away and was still alive somewhere, and that he would come back to her . . . eventually. Billy’s father had taken to drinking heavily after his son disappeared. He lost his job with the town highway department, and he ended his life by hanging himself in the family garage a few months after his wife died.

  But Kiera knew perfectly well what had happened to Billy. She also knew that it was much too late to tell anyone what had happened. Jon was right. It was a terrible secret they shared, and they would carry it to their graves.

  But we weren’t the only ones out there . . . Billy was, too . . .

  As she sat there in her car, parked in the garage with the engine still running, that thought twisted inside her like a live snake. Her hands on the steering wheel were slick with sweat, and her pulse squeezed her throat like unseen fingers. A thin haze of exhaust filled the garage with a blue tinge.

  What if someone else saw what happened? . . . What if someone else knows? . . . And what if they’re using it now to scare me after all these years?

  That thought paralyzed Kiera.

  It made perfect sense.
/>
  Kiera cringed, unable to stop the feeling that she was being watched. She shifted around in the car seat and looked out the open garage door. The sunlight dazzled her sight and made her head hurt as she looked around the yard. She didn’t notice anything unusual, but that didn’t mean something threatening her wasn’t there.

  “Come on . . . Just calm down,” she cautioned herself.

  She wanted to do what Dr. Schwartz had suggested, but right now she couldn’t muster the strength to turn off the car, much less get out. The sense of unseen danger all around her was so imminent she didn’t dare to move.

  Is it possible? . . . Could someone else have been hiding in the brush or on the opposite side of the river and seen what we did to Billy?

  As frightening as that thought was, it didn’t explain everything that had been going on. It certainly didn’t explain the sudden onset of migraines or how she could be seeing things.

  No, she told herself, biting her lower lip and shaking her head. It has to be something else . . .

  She jumped when the door leading into the house opened a crack, and Trista peeked out with a perplexed expression. Kiera realized the car was still running and quickly turned it off. Her hand was trembling as she opened the car door and got out.

  “Hey,” Kiera said, concerned about the expression on Trista’s face. She winced when she slammed the car door shut a little too hard. “Everything okay?”

  Her first thought was that Robbie had come over to the house while she was gone and maybe was still in the house. Trista was panicking, wondering how she was going to get him out without her mother seeing him. But Robbie’s Mustang wasn’t in the driveway, so he probably wasn’t here . . . unless a friend had dropped him off or they had hidden his car down the road.

  “Sure,” Trista said. “Just wondering what you’re doing out here.”

  Kiera shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as she started toward the door. The smell of exhaust was thick in the garage.

  Trista stepped back from the door to let her in. Once she was inside, Kiera looked around, still expecting to see Robbie, but he was nowhere in sight. She let her breath out as she hung her keys on the hook by the door, put her purse on the kitchen table, and walked over to the refrigerator.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Kiera asked. She could hear the edge in her voice and wished it wasn’t there, but she couldn’t help herself. She was still upset about what she was going through, and dealing with Trista right now was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Trista shrugged and shook her head no, but the worried look was still there in her furrowed brow. Maybe Robbie was hiding upstairs in her bedroom.

  Kiera opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of diet Pepsi, then got a glass from the cupboard.

  “Want some?” she asked, holding up the bottle. It made a little explosive sound when she loosened the cap.

  Again, Trista silently shook her head no. Usually at this point, she would have left, gone upstairs to her bedroom or down to the family room. It pained Kiera that she and her daughter didn’t talk anymore, certainly not the way they used to when Trista was young. Kiera pegged it right around the time Trista started junior high. She didn’t care for some of the kids Trista started hanging out with, and it had only gotten worse through high school. Whenever or whatever it was, they had lost the closeness they’d once had. Now that Trista was almost eighteen, about to start her senior year in high school, they had so little interaction it was pathetic . . . nothing beyond superficial, day-to-day things.

  “Something’s bothering you. I can tell,” Kiera said.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Trista cleared her throat and nodded toward the door that led out into the garage.

  “I heard you drive in a while ago, but you just sat out there in the car for quite a while with the engine running. What were you doing, trying to kill yourself?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I was—” Kiera said, but she left the thought unfinished and busied herself with getting ice cubes from the freezer and then pouring herself a glass of soda.

  Trista shrugged and stared at her mother until Kiera started to feel uncomfortable.

  “You have any plans for tonight?” she asked as she walked over to the sliding glass door and put her hand on the handle. But she didn’t open it. She didn’t like the tension she saw in Trista, but she didn’t have the energy to try to drag it out of her . . . not if Trista wasn’t willing to talk, too.

  “I’m gonna sit out on the deck and relax a bit before starting supper. You’re welcome to join me.”

  Trista shrugged again and said, “Naw. I got stuff to do.”

  Kiera was positive that “stuff ” included meeting up with Robbie later tonight—unless it was smuggling him out of the house now, but she was too drained to get into it.

  “Do you know where Dad is?” Kiera asked.

  “Nope,” Trista said. “Probably still at school, getting his crap organized.”

  “Crap . . .” Kiera echoed, nodding, but for some reason, she had a flash of doubt and thought her husband might be doing something else. She and Trista looked at each other in silence for a moment until Kiera couldn’t take it any longer and turned away.

  “Well,” she said as she slid open the glass door and the screen door. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “’Kay.”

  Kiera didn’t like that she felt a measure of relief when she stepped out onto the deck and slid the screen door shut behind her. The ice cubes in her drink clinked like rattling dice, and as she set the glass down on the plastic table next to a recliner, it almost slipped out of her hand because of the moisture that had beaded up on the glass. She sighed as she sat down in one of the chairs in the shade. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.

  From inside the house, she heard the sudden chirping ring of Trista’s cell phone and then the thumping sound of feet on the stairs as she ran upstairs to her bedroom.

  Kiera hated that there was such a division between her and her daughter, but no matter what she tried, she had no idea what to do about it. She knew it was as much her fault as Trista’s. Maybe more. She was the adult. But sometimes Trista seemed to go out of her way to provoke her when she wasn’t simply ignoring her.

  Kiera wished things weren’t so awkward between them. It seemed as though they never spoke honestly and openly to each other anymore. Either they were arguing or else—worse—they dealt with each other with frosty indifference. There wasn’t one incident she could pinpoint as the moment when things went bad between them. They were just rotten.

  And Nate certainly wasn’t any help. He got along just fine with Trista, which only made Kiera out to be the bad guy. As far as Kiera was concerned, Nate let Trista get away with entirely too much, and they were going to pay for it, sooner or later.

  As she rolled these and other thoughts around in her mind, Kiera closed her eyes and was staring, hypnotized, into the thin, red haze of daylight that lit her closed eyelids. Splotches of color swelled and faded, pulsing and drifting like amoeba under a microscope. Without looking, she felt around until she found her glass and picked it up. When she took a sip of soda, she reveled as the cold, fizzy liquid exploded on her tongue. The wind sighed through the trees that bordered the yard, and Kiera realized that for some time she had been listening to a faint voice that was whispering to her.

  Startled, she jumped and opened her eyes, looking all around. The sudden brightness brought tears to her eyes, but the instant she opened her eyes, the voice—if it had ever been there—cut off.

  Kiera tensed as she turned and looked at the house, half expecting to see Trista standing in the doorway, watching her. Maybe that’s what she heard, Trista talking on the phone in her room. Other than the wind and a few birds singing, the afternoon was perfectly quiet. Not even the distant drone of a neighbor’s lawn mower or the sound of a car passing by on the street broke the silence. The air was heavy and still, and it settled around her like a blanket.

/>   As she looked at the backyard, the unnerving feeling that someone was still out there in the woods, watching her, was still there.

  Is that who was talking to me? she wondered, but she knew that thought was irrational.

  Why would someone be out there spying on her . . . and then start talking to her?

  She wished she could remember what they had been saying, but the voice was like a dream that slipped away the instant she awoke. She was left with a vague, uneasy feeling of something just out of reach. She had no idea if the voice had even been making sense, but it didn’t matter. It was gone now.

  The medication Dr. Schwartz had given her was still in her purse. She wondered if a migraine was coming on and thought it might be a good idea to take something preemptively, but she wasn’t convinced this was a migraine. There hadn’t been any flash of light. There wasn’t even a hint of pain above her left eye.

  “Okay, so I’m having auditory hallucinations,” she whispered, her voice low but still loud enough to make her cringe.

  The feeling that someone was watching her hadn’t gone away, but she ignored it. Her hand was shaking as she raised her glass to her mouth and took another sip of soda. The soda was already flat and warm, and she wondered how long she had been out here, drifting between wakefulness and sleep while listening to a voice that wasn’t there.

  Sourness filled her stomach, and she thought she might throw up. During the exam, Dr. Schwartz had told her that nausea might also presage a migraine. Maybe that’s what was happening now.

  Or is it just the power of suggestion?

  Even as the memory of it faded away like sand sifting between her fingers, the voice had seemed so real she had simply accepted it . . . until she thought about it.

  And it had been telling her something . . . something important, she was sure . . . but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dredge up the memory other than a vague impression of a woman’s voice.