The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden(59)

I shove my finger down my throat, desperate to get rid of it. I push and gag until my throat bleeds and tears slide down my cheeks. My shoulders shake as I stare at the trail of blood on the floor and listen to the sounds of the kids just outside, laughing and playing hide-and-seek.

I gasp for air, dragging my fingernails down my neck. “Go away. Go away,” I whisper and Seth lets out a loud snore.

I hop out of bed and search the floor for my shoes, needing to get rid of the feelings beginning to surface. But I can’t find my shoes. It’s too dark. I yank at my hair wanting to rip it out and scream.

Finally, I give up and sneak out the door bare foot. The hallway is vacant and I run to the end of it where the bathrooms are. Locking myself in the farthest stall, I kneel down on the cold hard tile floor, lean my head over the toilet, and jab my finger down my throat.

As the vomit surfaces I start to feel better. I keep pushing and pushing until I brink the end and my stomach is empty. Calmness settles over me as I take back control.

Kayden

The next morning, after Callie and I made out in the jungle gym, I wake up with my mind crammed with a lot of shit. I climb out of bed and start packing a bag, shoving in a few shirts and an extra pair of jeans. Then I zip it up and swing the handle over my shoulder.

Luke is lying on his bed, face down and I shake his shoulder. He rolls over with his fists up, ready to take a swing at my face. “What the hell?”

“Hey, I need a favor.” I collect my wallet and phone off the dresser.

He relaxes. “What favor? And why do you have a bag packed?”

“I need to borrow your truck.” I adjust the bag higher on my shoulder. “For a few days.”

He blinks again, still out of it as he reaches for his watch on the nightstand. “What time is it?” He rubs his eyes and then gapes up at me. “It’s six o’clock in the f*cking morning. Are you crazy?”

“I need to get away from here for a while,” I say. “I need to clear my head.”

Sighing, he scoots up so he’s sitting. “Where are you going?”

“Back home,” I say, knowing it’s stupid to go back, but it’s all I know. There is nowhere else for me and staying here means dealing with shit I just can't deal with and Callie deserves better. “I thought I’d go check up on my mom and make sure everything is okay there.”

He rubs his forehead and glances at the sun rising over the mountains. “You know I’m going to be stranded here if you take my truck? What am I supposed to do? Stay here for the entire weekend?”

“You can borrow someone else’s car.” I turn around, looking for his keys and then scoop them up from off the desk.

“I guess I can get a ride from Seth.” He frowns. “God dammit. This better be important.”

My stomach tenses. “It is. In fact, it’s kind of a matter of life and death.” I walk out the door without saying another word, the bandages beneath my shirt hidden, but I feel the pain. It’s all I feel.
***
Driving back home is a f*cking downer, but if I hang around the campus, I’m going to want to be near Callie and it’s unhealthy for both of us. I do the only thing I know. I go back home, hoping I can clear my head of her.

When I park the truck in front of the two-story house, though, every single memory rushes back to me. The fists, the beatings, the yelling, the blood. It’s all connected to me, like the veins under my skin and the scars on my body, along with this house, and what’s inside it—it’s all I have.

It takes me a second to work up the courage to open the truck door. My boots land in a puddle as I step out. Leaning back inside, I grab my bag from the passenger seat, and slam the door. Draping the handle over my shoulder, I head up the path lined with red and green Venus Fly Traps. The leaves from the trees have fallen, and the neighbor’s son is out raking them up from the grass.

Each year, my mom pays someone to come clean them up, because my dad hates them in the yard. They’re dead and pointless and look like shit, he says.

I wave at him as I trot up the stairs to the front porch. Freezing in front of the screen, I take a deep breath and step inside. It’s exactly the same as when I left. There is no dust on the pictures in the foyer or on the banister leading upstairs. The floor has been polished, the glass on the windows are wiped clean. I walk up to a family portrait hanging on the farthest wall and squint at it.

My mom and dad sit in the center, and my two older brothers and I stand around them. We’re smiling and look like a happy family. But Tyler has a tooth missing from where he banged his face on the table when my dad was chasing him. Dylan has a brace on his wrist from falling out of a tree when he climbed up it to hide from my father. Even though it isn’t visible in the picture, I have a bruise on my shin the size of a baseball from getting kicked by my dad after I accidentally spilt cereal all over the floor.