Housesitter

After the discarding the groceries at the house, they drove up the winding coastal road into the depths of the forest. After driving a bit, they pulled into a smaller road which led onto an empty space overlooking the city, shoreline, and vastness of the ocean. She parked her car and they both tumbled out. He led her up a slight hill until they came to a slightly wooden area with small rocky crags, a place off the beaten path from tourist prying eyes. He sat on one of the crags overlooking the vast ocean blue and turned to her, his smile half-cocked expressing an invitation for her to join him. She climbed up and sat on a crag beside him, turning outwards to the ocean she breathed it as much as possible. Then, slowly exhaled.

“It is...,” was all she could say.

“Amazing,” Jesse finished her sentence. She nodded and turned to him, smiling, suddenly completely happy and she felt even a sense of peace slowly emerging and traveling through her. It was a feeling so long unknown to her, she couldn't at first trace or define it, but the word “peace” was all she could finally name it. “I love coming here, its the only place I really feel at home.”

“You grow up here?” Rachel wanted to know.

“Not so much,” Jesse sighed. “I live with my aunt. My parents are...no longer living.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Rachel said, turning and facing the ocean. She felt the truthfulness of this conversation becoming all too real and authentic against her imaginary cover story.

“Its okay, it happened when I was just a little kid, like 5, car accident, barely remember them,” Jesse mumbled to himself.

“So, your aunt?” Rachel asked not turning to him, but trying to keep the conversation off of herself as long as possible.

“Yeah, she took me in, the only living relative that would,” he explained. “She's nice and all and did her best, but she's got a...a...sorta...reputation, is all.”

“Oh,” Rachel said in response and let the word reputation lose itself in the air as it wrapped itself repeatedly in her mind, forming mental pictures that spun from long ago tucked away memories never to be forgotten. 'Reputation, reputation,' they breathed toiling through her brain.

“You okay?” Jesse was calling to her and she turned slowly, full of effort, towards him. He was rolling a joint. “You kind of disappeared there for a minute,” he went on. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I was thinking...I'm just tired, is all,” she brokenly explained, trying to recoil into her chosen path of hiding.

“You don't mind if I partake, do you?” He asked motioning towards the joint. “You want some?”

“Please,” she nodded.

 He lit the joint and took a drag, passing it to her. She took it, pressed it between her lips, and inhaled, feeling the familiar warm pull of the smoke touch her throat and lungs. She sipped it like honey into her aching soul. Then, she handed it back to him. His hand touched hers gently as he took it from her and she felt an electric pulse run throughout her veins and shoot into her heart.  

Just A Kiss

House-Sitter

Rachel Moore maneuvered her car out of its hiding place and started up the road towards town. No need to hide the car away now that she, herself, had been discovered. She wondered what ramifications would come about from staying, now that she had indeed decided to stay, well at least for awhile. A part of her wanted to see where and how this would play itself out. She rubbed her forehead lost in her own imaginings and felt a pang of heartache overwhelm her. She shook it off

A few minutes later, she pulled into the small seaside town and located the local grocery store. She parked her red ford in the parking lot and got out. Leaning on a wall near the post office nearby, she saw a young man with a dark appearance matching hers. His gaze met hers as she passed by into the store. As she made her way through the aisles, she found it difficult to focus on what she needed, the budget she need to keep in order to maximize the full 500, now 450 dollars she had acquired from this “gig” because her thoughts kept straying to this mysterious man at the post office. She laughed to herself at that description. Maybe, she thought, it had been too long since she'd had a fling, a little temporary distracting romance, as it were, but still to this day, serious love affairs were a frightening concept, both in theory and practice.

Lost in thought, she turned out of the aisle she was in and was about to turn into the cereal aisle when she was shocked out of her revelry by a loud “Hi there.” Looking up, there he was, the mysterious post office man, or rather the man she had seen at the post office a few minutes before.

“Um, yeah, hi,” was her response. He had shaggy black hair and piercing green eyes, a slight yet attractive build. It was the green eyes that drew her in and made her heart flutter.

“I'm Jesse,” he introduced himself. His voice was moderately low, a soft tenor-like quality, slightly soft-spoken as if apart of him was afraid to speak or had forgotten the power of words.

“Um, I'm Rebecca, you can call me Becca,” she smiled nervously at him, then bit her lip in anticipation.

“You aren't from around here, are you?” was his response.

“Um, no, does it show?” came her witty comeback.

“Well, for starters, you are talking to me,” he explained.

“Is there a problem with you?” she wanted to know, unknowingly pulling the cart closer to herself, as if preparing herself to fire it into him if he should try anything here and now in a grocery store cereal aisle entrance.

“Well, some folks around here think I'm kind of weird,” he let her know. She shook her head and laughed aloud, maybe too loud. A few other store patrons eyed her suspiciously as she walked by. He winced and looked her over, almost frightened, like a little baby bird. “What's wrong?”

“Weird! Is that it?” she asked, still laughing hard.

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” was his timid response.

“I'm a fond of weird, used to it in small towns,” she started to explain.

“How used to it?” he blurted out before she had a chance to detract.

“Um, where I'm from, I'm kind of an oddity,” she said. Why did she tell him this, why did she feel so comfortable sharing herself with him, too much, so comfortable here, in this random place?

“Where you from?” he asked insistingly.

“Um, back east,” she looked him over, searching for a way to change the subject. “I'm, uh, house-sitting at the Jones' place, you want to hang out sometime? You should come over.”

“Seriously?” he seemed way too taken aback by her request.

“Yeah, sure,” she thought lustfully. “Maybe this evening.”

“Um, yeah, what time?”

“6:00 pm, no, wait, I got that thing at the neighbor's house, its gonna be a drag, uh, real interesting, you should come with me,” she finally stumbled through.

“No, I don't think I should,” he stated matter of factually.

“Why not?” she cocked her head to the side.

“Folks don't really like me all that much, is all,” he replied.

“Because you are weird,” she concluded. “Well, so am I. Let's go be weird together.”

He smiled at her, broadly and warmly. Then, he nodded in enthusiastic agreement. She smiled back, she liked this sweet awkward guy.

“Come over around 5?” she asked. He nodded. “I should finish the shopping, okay?”

He turned to let her pass and then stopped. Turning back to her, he asked, “And then what?”

“Excuse me?” she said confusedly.

“What are you doing after the shopping?” he asked invitingly.

“Um, not sure, take the food home, I guess,” she responded automatically.

“Home?” he asked, catching her use of that word. It struck her as odd as well.

“Um, well, back to the house, um, why?”

“You want to hang out? I could show you around a bit until the thing at the neighbor's,” he said

tentatively.

She thought a minute and realized she had nothing else to do that afternoon. She nodded and smiled brightly.

“Yeah, sounds great,” she began. “Just wait for me outside at my car, its the red ford.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said and she recalled their earlier encounter.

  “I'll just have to drop off the food and then we'll go wherever you want,” she informed him and he nodded, walking off with a new found spring in his step.

Somewhere Only We Know

House-Sitter

She awoke to the sun streaming brightly through the large ocean-front windows. Her eyes blinked in the morning light as she slowly rose to a sitting position. The silk bathrobe was discarded on the floor, she was naked under the sheets. She pushed the sheets off of her, picking the bathrobe off the floor and tying it out about her.

“Coffee,” was her one thought. “Must get coffee.”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. Her red hair stuck out at odd angles from falling asleep with it still damp, matted in places was it, and her eyes were puffy from crying. The meeting of Jay the night before had spiraled her backwards into a haunting memory, of allowing herself to get close in order to be left wounded. Fear had gripped her and the tears fell in reckless abandon. She turned away from the mirror and made her way to the kitchen downstairs.

The coffee pot was gurgling away as she rummaged through the kitchen for some kind of breakfast. She found eggs, enough for a scramble, and a banana that was quickly on its way to brown and had to be eaten right then and there.

She turned on the stove, cracked the eggs into the pan, and watched as the yokes sizzled in the heat, a feeling she was all too aware of. She pushed it from her eye. The coffee pot rung its alarm, signifying its finishing its job. She moved over towards the pot hurriedly, found a mug in the dishwasher, and poured herself a cup. She took it black, as from so many travels she had been accustomed to, taking whatever she could find. This was the first time she'd ever had such a luxurious surroundings and opportunity.

She sipped the coffee and turned back to her eggs. With a fork, she scrambled them, adding butter and milk she had found in the fridge. Once they were scrambled to her liking, she ate them hungrily, straight from the pan. Then, devoured the overly sweet browning banana and tossed it into the garbage beneath the sink.

She walked into the TV room and sat slowly, dejectedly upon the sofa. She did not turn the TV on, resisted that impulse to numb herself with that distraction. She had to think and think fast. No doubt, Jay had already told his parents about his meeting her and they would soon want to investigate it further. That means, she must start the preparations to leave before she was caught, the cops called, or whatever might happen. A few cities back that had actually happened. She was squatting, or doing her usual uninvited house-sitting as she called it, at a small cottage when she had been discovered and was informed by a neighbor the cops were on their way. She'd left hurriedly, with barely any time to pack, leaving something she could never replace, something of intrinsic value behind. Her heart still ached over that loss, another among many.

A gentle rap at the front door broke her revelry. She looked down and wished herself clothed more than she was. The rap came again, it wasn't an angry knock but a simple greeting, a reaching out to her. She cautiously made her way down the front entrance way hallway to the front door. Slowly she turned the knob and poked just her head out the door. A woman, in her mid thirties perhaps, stood on the front porch, smiling at her.

“Becca?” the woman said. “Good morning. I'm Jay's mom, Judy.”

“Oh, um, hi, I was...,” came Rachel's faltering reply.

“Just waking up, sorry to wake you,” Judy smiled at her and Rachel felt confused at this warmth. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood and see who the Jones' had hired. Do you house-sit much?”

“Oh, I, yeah,” was all Rachel could reply.

“Oh, then we should get to know each other,” Judy continued not noticing Rachel's awkwardness. “I'm always looking for reliable sitters, how much do you charge?”

“Um,” Rachel searched her mind for some amount but came up with a blank. Hurriedly, she spat out nervously, “Its negotiable.”

“Oh, nice,” Judy smiled at her again. “Well, we are having a little community get together at our house, its just right across the way, you are welcome to come.”

She pointed at the two story yellow house directly below and in front of the Jones' house.

“Maybe we'll see you there?” Judy was asking and Rachel's mind was spinning from this invitation.

“What?” Rachel wondered aloud, biting her lip to hide its tremor.

“Maybe you can come to our get-together, 6:00 pm?” Judy repeated herself.

“Um, yeah, great, that'd be fun, thanks,” and Judy smiled at her, said a warm “see you then,” and departed back down the steps. Rachel watched her go, then closed the door behind her, and leaned up against it with a heavy sigh. She couldn't believe what had transpired and she knew that she shouldn't stay any longer in this place, but something deep within felt as if she should stay, had to stay longer.

'Oh well,' she thought. 'Maybe this will be the greatest adventure of yet. Like an actress, I could slip even further into the life of Becca Jacobs.'

 She moved herself up to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. Washing her face, she started planning the sound-proof backstory that would suffice for the life of Becca Jones.  

She Will Be Loved

House-Sitter

Rachel, aka Becca Jacobs, woke up with a start. The room had grown dark, evening had descended upon the house. The TV was droning on in the background of her mind, the lights from a news show flickered on the walls of the dark room, on Rachel's face giving her an allure of pretense. She reached for the track flip phone she traveled one, this one was fairly new, she had gotten it at the last city when she realized it was time for the change. She changed her phone number with an increasing frequency so as to not be traced so easily. She glanced at the large digits and read the time 4:54 pm.

It took a moment for her to reorient herself, to remind herself of her surroundings, how she had gotten to where she was. She had passed out after finding a bottle of red wine in the pantry unopened and together with cheese and crackers, she had drank down the whole thing whilst channel surfing until finding a cheesy movie. The cheesy movie had now been transformed into Anderson Cooper relaying to her the world's events. She shook herself remembering the dream she had had, the voice of Anderson had drifted into her unconscious in his broadcast voice detailing her life up to that point.

“Rachel Anne Moore, 32, originally from Connecticut, has been on the run from her past for 12 years now, has had several aliases and existences in her travels,” came the flashback of Anderson's dream-like presence. She shook it out of her consciousness, glanced over at the red wine bottle, with only a few swallows left. What had woken her up?

Oh yes, she remembered hearing footsteps. At first she had thought they were part of her unconscious flickering but the footsteps had continued and now she thought she heard a key in the front door. Yes, the door knob began to turn, she caught her breath, was this it? Had she finally been caught or was she about to? Her mind raced as the door clicked open, the footsteps entered the house, soft small footsteps, and she sucked in her breath, holding it trying to steady her racing heartbeat.

Then, all at once, the footsteps entered the room and a young boy came into view. He squinted through the semi-darkness. She flipped off the TV just as he reached for a switch. The light that filled the room was now bright and revealing. The blanket that covered her bare legs was security, she pulled the silk bathrobe closer about her and suddenly felt self conscious that she was even wearing it. But, wearing the owner's clothing was the least of her concerns. However, chances were this young boy wouldn't recognize the lingerie of the women of the house.

“Um, hi,” the boy finally said after he had recovered from the shock of finding her.

“Hey,” she replied, trying to sound cool, collected, as if she belonged there yet her voice cracked.

“You staying at the Jones' or something?” the boy wanted to know. It was important for her to realize that he wasn't threatened or showed any real concern, this seemed somehow reasonable to him. A strange tipsy girl with wild red hair wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe and a blanket sitting in his neighbor's living room was for reasons unknown to her seemingly not an oddity to him.

“Um, yeah,” she finally recovered her presence of mind. “I'm the, uh, house-sitter.”

“Oh,” he responded and then took a moment to register that. “But, they told me to water the plants?”

“Yeah?” was all she could respond.

“Yeah, and I have Milo,” he was explaining. Milo, she thought, must be the dog.

“Well, um,” she began. “It was a last minute hiring, I guess they were really worried about security, you never know who will break in, um, to your house, right?”

“I guess so,” the boy said sadly. “Should I bring Milo back?”

Rachel's heart melted with sympathy. She shook her head encouragingly.

“Sorry they didn't tell you, guess they were too busy getting ready for the trip or whatever,” she said warmly. “You keep Milo and look after him, but I'll, um, water the plants. And, uh, I'll give you some of the cash they left me, okay?”

The boy brightened with a big smile. “That's awesome, thanks,” he replied. “Hey, what's your name?” he added questioningly.

“Go...Ra..Becca,” she stumbled out.

“Wait, what?” the boy was confused.

“Sorry, I just woke up,” she explained poorly. “I'm Becca. You?”

“Jay,” the boy answered her. “Nice to meet you, Becca.”

“You too, kid.”

“So, I, uh, should be getting home,” Jay began. He waited for her to respond and it slowly dawned on Rachel's worn out yet racing mind that he was waiting for the cash.

“Oh yeah, um, hold on,” She said quickly, standing and hurriedly, awkwardly wrapping the blanket around her legs. She walked like a Japanese women in a kimono out of the room, modestly.

The cash was in her purse on the kitchen counter where she'd discarded it earlier that day upon her arrival. She opened her wallet and flipped through the 500 dollars, finally resolutely pulling out 50 dollars for Jay. That should keep him satisfied, right?

She turned to return to the TV room to find Jay in the entry way. She gasped.

“You okay?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” she responded. “You just surprised me.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. She handed him the money and he counted the two twenties and a ten and grinned up at her. “Wow, 50, that's more than I have ever gotten.”

She smiled at him. “Don't spend it all in one place.”

“I won't,” he said shaking his head almost violently. “I'm saving up for an xbox.”

“Oh good,” was all she could say.

“Uh, so, I'll see you around, okay?” he said at last. She nodded. “Should I leave the key or...”

“Um, yeah, that'd be great,” she responded.

He pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and placed it on the counter next to her.

“Um, bye,” he said and then turned walking back towards the front door.

“Lock it behind you, would you?” she called after him.

“Yeah, will do,” he said. She heard the door lock, then shut behind him, leaving her alone with herself and her thoughts at last.

  She leaned back against the counter, shut her eyes hard, rubbed her temples, and exhaled. What did this mean? She had never once been found at any of the other places. Should she leave? But she had just gotten here, she needed rest after such a long trip, she didn't really want to run more than she had. Rest, she thought, sleep. Things would be clearer in the morning. Slowly she dragged herself up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she stared out at the starry night sky, the waves pounding on the shore, and drifted into a fitful yet long sleep.   

She Will Be Loved

House-Sitter

by Lia Rose Dugal

Rachel Moore could barely take her eyes off the view as she drove along the coastal road towards the small town of Broadside. Without hesitation, she pulled into a dirt parking lot overlooking the crashing waves on the shoreline. She reached into the backseat of her beat up blue ford and pulled a faded red sweatshirt from her knapsack. She pulled it on around her, then tied her dirty blonde hair in a messy bun. Locking the car, she stepped out of the driver's side door, stuffing the keys into her jeans pocket, she briskly moved towards the cold breezy beach, the waves crashing endlessly against the shore.

Approaching the edge of the beach line, she peered out towards the horizon beyond, listening to the call of the seagulls, the waves, the feel of the cool air around her and just for a moment, felt alive and at peace. She sighed, closed her eyes, and drank the moment in.

Turning slowly upon hearing the slam of a car door, she saw across the street a large house with a family moving in and out to a heavily parked car, with luggage and other asundry traveling items, before all getting in. Rachel watched as the car backed out of the driveway and quickly drove down the road, leaving the house behind. Quickly yet casually, she strode toward the empty house to investigate.

At the house, she cautiously crept around it until she found a basement screen door. She gingerly tried the lock, then leaned against it a little before hearing the now familiar pop of the unlock. She smiled to herself, knowingly, then slid the door open. Leaving her shoes at the door, she tiptoed throughout the house, very large, three-story, very posh.

“Jackpot,” she smiled, allowing herself to revel in the discovery. She moved over towards the kitchen, glancing at a family photo sitting on a nearby end table. A family of four, loving doting beautifully and socially intact parents smiled out towards her, with two children, a son and daughter beneath them. The daughter had her arm affectionately around a large white dog. She glanced behind her and sure enough near the fire was a dog's bed. Dog hair, she groaned to herself, well, beggars can't be choosy.

She continued her path into the kitchen to verify and ensure her find before making her final decision. A calendar hung by the refridgerator. She looked it over and saw marked with a sloppy line three weeks marked off with “France Vacation”. Three weeks, she sighed, allowing herself to relax into the thought.

As she moved out of the kitchen, she glanced out a hallway window, seeing a small hillside in the backyard with a dirt road below. A turn out marked a perfect hide-away for her faithful ford four-door.

An hour later, after stashing the car and bringing her knapsack in, setting it on what she imagined was the master bed, a bedroom with large windows expanding over the ocean-side view, she stepped into the shower and peered out the glass window towards the crashing waves, the warm water cascading over the hair and naked body. She picked up the expensive brand of shampoo left behind, squeezed it into her hand, and scrubbed it fiercely into her stringy fading dyed blonde hair, the brown roots showing way too much. She'd have to change her look again, she knew, but first she had to find some way of reimbursing her broke ass. This life-style she had chosen was not always that lucrative.

Finding a razor and a loofah, she ran body wash luxiourishly over her body and watched as the soap ran down her chest and swam into the drain. She watched the hair disappear from under her arms and her legs, it had been way too long since a good shave. Once done, she let her hands run over the newly shaven areas, reveling in the silky smooth feel. She sighed in relief and pleasure. After letting the conditioner rinse from her hair, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel over her body after drying herself, then tying her hair up in another towel.

She wiped some of the steam off of the foggy mirror and stared at herself for seemingly along time, then she moved back into the bedroom, and into the adjoining walk-in closet to see what she could find. Hanging on the door, she found a silk bathrobe which she wrapped about her, letting the towel fall haphazardly on the floor. What did she care about neatness, she had three weeks to spare. Now to see what else she could find. Money or some way of acquiring money was the first goal. Her eyes surveyed the entire room quickly, falling momentarily on a jewelry box on the vanity dresser before the bed. No, she thought, jewelry was too risky, especially in a small town like this where the pawn shop might recognize or be able to track what she hawked. She moved out into the hall and made her way through the other rooms.

She found the daughter's room and scanned it for signs of funding opportunities. The daughter also had a vanity dresser, atop it was too items of note. A yet unopened manic panic hair dye box and a piggy bank. Perfect, she thought, picking up both items and sitting on the bed. Letting the hair dye box fall onto the bed, she turned the piggy bank around and around in her hand, looking for an opening. It was a pipe dream, she knew, she most likely would find a bit of loose change and perhaps the odd Canadian coin, a Mexican peso, mementos to a young girl, useless to her cause. She sighed at the remembrance of her younger self, long since buried. Then, she found a pop out lid underneath the piggy bank, she pulled it until it loosened and shook as the money inside, actual green bills, fell out of it onto the bedspread.

Piecing through, she counted the bills before her, which came to a complete two hundred dollars. This girl knew how to save her money. Good girl, Rachel thought, glancing up at a photo of a girl around 13 on the dresser before her. So, that photo downstairs must be a few years old now. A flashback flew into Rachel's mind, a student photo of herself aged twelve or so, staring forlornly and awkwardly at the camera. She shook the image from her mind.

“Sorry, girl,” she said as she returned the piggy bank to its original location and holding the cash and hair dye box, she moved back to the parents bathroom.

A few minutes later, out she came with now hair wet from dye, tied up and covered with a shower cap she had discovered, still in the bathrobe. Cash in her hand, she descended the stairs to the first floor. Tossing it on the counter, she scavenged the kitchen until she found crackers and bean dip which she quickly began to devour hungrily until sated. She leaned against the counter near the stove and sighed happily. On the opposite counter near a telephone leaned a white envelope and curiously she moved over to it. Upon opening it, she found three crisp hundred dollar bills.

“Five hundred dollars, this house for three weeks,” she gasped at her luck happily.

Twenty minutes later, she stood hair dryer in hand back in the parent's bathroom, finishing up the touches of the dye job. She ran her fingers through the crazy red hair and surveyed herself in the mirror, turning the dryer off. She smiled at herself, happy with the change. Now for a name. The last place she'd been in, she had chosen the name, “Goldie”. She giggled once again at the choice, blonde hair, house-crasher. So, now what she said as she fingered the redness.

 'Red,' she mused to herself. “Red riding hood, Red, Re..becca. Becca....Becca Jones, no that's the name of this family, I think, too risky. Becca...Jacobs.” She winced at the realization of the last name choice, but then shook it off determinedly. “Becca Jacobs,” she said resolved and looked at herself in the mirror. “You are Becca Jacobs.” And, that was final.   

Bring Me To Life

Cafe Girl: A Girl Conquers World Novella

An hour later, James came straggling back into the cafe. He looked beat. The rest of the gang had moved back inside as the early fall breeze was picking up and causing quite a chill. There was more than just the cool breeze causing a chill in the air as James walked in the door. The whole room fell silent. The other customers not part of the band of friends felt that same shocking freeze of discomfort. James' friends swarmed around him, hugs were distributed, claps on the back. The longest hug, most notably, came from Deborah whose heart was breaking over not only James' loss of his ex-wife, first love, but from the gruesome way that it had occurred. More than that, the very fact that a murder had occurred in this small town where nothing really ever happened, and then again, someone they had known, worked with, lived with, spent time with, was overwhelmingly too hard to take in all at once. They sat in silence at the tables in the back of the cafe, staring down at their mugs full of the morning roast. Matthew had given James a free cup in his favorite blue mug, on the house.

After awhile, Shaggy looked up and said, “Anyone up for a walk?”

“I'm down,” Matthew said slowly looking over at Deborah, then James. “Barbara should be in to take over soon.”

Deborah touched James' arm lightly.

“You interested?” was all she could say. James looked up at her with hooded eyes, desperately trying to hide away all thoughts and emotions from the outside world.

“Sure,” he began slowly. “Yeah. The police are going to want to talk to Barbara, by the way.”

“Really?” Matthew wondered.

“Yeah,” James started to say then hesitated. “Well, she was working the day...it happened.”

They lapsed into silence. At that moment, Barbara abruptly entered the cafe swinging her purse with a joyful step to her walk.

“Good morning to all of you,” she chirped happily to the cafe and to her friends. She had had a good night before. The guy she had been crushing on for weeks now had finally got around to calling her. They had talked long into the night, and although she felt tired from their long nightly conversation, she was still high on the rush of infatuation. The faces of her friends' looked up at her, not reciprocating her happy mood. “Um, what's wrong?”

Matthew studied her for a long time, searching for the words to explain. But no thoughts came, he looked down again at his coffee cup, waiting for someone to speak. The others sitting around him eyed each other, wondering if anyone else was going to speak so they wouldn't have to do just that. Finally, James spoke, slowly, methodically, as if giving the blandest of evening news:

“The police were here earlier, they found Eve's body...”

“Found Eve's body?” Barbara interrupted. “What do you mean?”

Eve and Barbara had been friends before she and James had married. They had lived together as well.

James looked down at his coffee shop and sucked in air.

“She was murdered,” he said at last, fighting back the emotional upsurge that wanted to come out. Barbara instantly collapsed into a chair.

“What the fuck...you've got to be kidding,” was all she could say. Then, she fell into abrupt silence and there was nothing more she could say. She stared motionless into the space around her friends, not looking at them, not seeing them.

“So, the walk?” Shaggy asked again, helplessly. Slowly, the boys and Deborah got up from the table. Moving to bus their table, Barbara waved them off.

“I've got it,” she explained. “Gives me something to do, I guess, you all go do what you need to do.”

Matthew, James, Shaggy, Thomas, Ray, and Deborah moved outside into the brisk cool November air pulling their coats and warm caps around them, to block out the chill. But it was only an outward chill they could protect from, on the inside, they felt that chilling bite of grief overwhelming them with each step. They followed Shaggy up the street and into the park and kept walking deeper, deeper, higher, higher into the hills above. Climbing up ravines and sliding down riverbanks, they trek kept their minds off the despair down in the city, for awhile. At the top of the mountain, overlooking the city, Shaggy stopped them.

“Come here,” he said. “Gather around.”

He instructed them into a semi-circle, their arms encircling each others' shoulders, and together they looked over the entire city.

“Look at us,” Shaggy was saying. “Really, look at all of us, at least we have each other.”

Deborah felt a warmth to be included as she looked at all these faces. A sense of kinship and unity welled up in her, a deep bond of both joy and heartbreak formed within each of their hearts at that moment. Never before had their been a moment where they had truly been an us until that moment, atop the mountaintop, trying to find some healing from the grief dwelling inside.

James looked around at all of them, then out at the city, and the well of emotion that was damned up finally broke. He collapsed amidst the circle and without thinking Deborah moved to him, breaking from the arms of Matthew.

“James!” she cried and knelt by his side, taking him in her arms. He sobbed on her shoulder. The others moved awkwardly closer, patted him on the back, stood in silence waiting.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHY1D0tKRA

One Final Time

The music in the gym was pumping, loud yet pleasant. Les danced wildly by Tera's side and with her friends. He felt the approving glances of her closest friends, as their eyes lingered over him flirtatiously. He flirted back but couldn't find himself wanting anymore. His mind kept being drawn back to her, and to Jess as a matter of fact. He knew that he had to make a decision when it came to Jess, no matter what the consequences in his other relationships transpired, and he felt he knew what he had to do. He did his duty, slow-dancing with Tera and she kept her promise to keep it as “just friends” status. The music was loud enough that it kept their dialogue down so that Les could remain lost in thought for the majority of the evening.

As she drove him home, they were fairly quiet as they let the radio play softly in the background. He looked out the window and watched the dark and empty streets stream by quietly. Tera cleared her throat and he glanced over at her.

“So you had fun?” she began.

“Yeah,” he smiled at her. “It was nice hanging out at you.”

She beamed as she studied the road ahead of her before speaking again.

“So, what did you think of my friends?”

“Yeah, they seemed nice,” was all he could say and looked out the window again.

“What about Maggie?” Tera kept fishing.

“Oh, um, she's nice,” was all he would answer. Then, “Why?”

“Oh, she just asked about you, is all.”

“Asked about me?” Les was suddenly curious.

“Like if you were single, you know, and all that,” was Tera's reply. Les was silent, unsure of how to answer, and looked ahead of him out the front window. After a moment of silence, Tera broke it with,

“So are you?”

That question hung in the air loosely between them. Tera quickly spat out,

“Not for me personally, just in general, I don't like you like that, really.”

“No, I know,” Les assured her. “And, I'm kind a sorta not.”

That's all he would give and they lapsed both into the silence, as Patsy Cline crooned “Crazy” on the radio.

“I love this song,” Tera said and reached to turn it up. They both listened in silence, respectively. As it came to a close, Tera asked, “So, who then?”

“Hmm?” was Les's reply.

“Who are you kind a sorta seeing?” Tera wanted to know.

“Oh, um, well, Jess actually,” Les admitted. Tera gasped and then said,

“You mean Jess from camp?”

“Um, yeah,” Les laughed. “She's really pretty cool and I like hanging out with her, only---”

“Only?”

“Nothing,” He was silent as he recalled his and Jess's last encounter and made a mental note to call her in the morning with his ready response to her request. Tera searched her mind for what she should tell Ruby, finally relaxing into her decision about having a “wait and see” on this Les's relationship status with Jess, maybe it would fizzle itself out and Ruby would have her chance, if she would only get over her shyness and admit to her feelings. If only.

Crazy

One Final Time

Tera pulled up to Les' mom's house at about quarter to six, the dance started at nine so they were going to grab dinner beforehand. She got out of her beat-up old toyota pick-up, her dad's old truck, careful to protect her golden heels and sweeping pale pink strapless dress and headed up the walk towards his front door. Les was waiting in the living room and opened the door before she could reach the front. He was hoping to dash out the door quickly but his mom stopped him from doing so with a squeal and a “where's the camera?” She made the two of them stand on the porch and pose in their prom finery before heading out. Tera awkwardly pinned a boutonniere on Les' coat, then they hurriedly scurried down the walk towards her truck.

A few minutes later, they pulled into Olive Garden and after ordering two cokes and pasta, they caught each other up on the latest news.

“You going up to Camp this summer?” Tera wanted to know. Les nodded as he sipped a mouthful of coke. “Me too.”

“When? What week?” Les finally asked, after swallowing.

“I go up July 14^th, the same as last year,” she answered. His eyes smiled largely.

“Me too,” and she smiled back. “So, we'll be up there again this year.”

Tera took a sip of drink and Les did the same. He thought a moment, hesitated, and looked out the window, pondering his next move. Finally he spoke,

“Do you know who else is going?”

Tera shook her head and took another sip of coke. Les hesitated, sucked in air, and then blurted out,

“What about Ruby?”

Tera shrugged, tilted her head to one side, and then said, “Yeah, I think so, the same time.”

She then sipped her drink again. Soda in any fashion was not allowed in her house-hold and so any chance she got to have some was a real treat. She'd pay for it later, when she was up at 3 in the morning.

“Oh, I see,” and Les sipped at his coke as well and he clasped his hands together underneath the table, gripping them with some form of excitement. Maybe this would be the year for them. But, then his eyes flashed back to Jess, who he'd been now talking to on AOL the last week. She was fun to hang around with and not to mention gorgeous. She also was easy to talk to and had a lot of the same interests. Still something drew him close to Ruby, some connection he could not yet really describe. There was something about her that...when she looked at him, she looked into his eyes and saw him, he felt, for who he was. No one else had ever reached him like that, without words.

In her bedroom in a city nearby, Ruby sat on her bed, guitar in her lap, angrily strumming, trying to rid her mind of the image of Tera and Les together. She knew she could never stay mad at Tera, that she had, in a very real sense, given her permission or the okay for this to happen. And, she knew Tera was true to her word in that it was “just as friends”. But, Ruby, ever the worrier, couldn't help let her mind imagine all sorts of scenarios of their night together, how'd they realize their feelings for each other, get together, fall in love, get married, maybe, and on and on it went.

Looking over her Rod McKuen book, she sang out the same words over and over, trying to get the right tune to match the right meaning,

“And so, this song, this song, this song...has no words.”

Later, as Tera maneuvered her car through the streets towards her school, Les sat in the passenger seat looking straight ahead. His mind racked for something to say, but nothing really came. Although with Tera, he liked not having to think of anything to say, but just to sit and be himself. Not trying to have to flirt or earn her approval, not having to choose between her or anyone else. His mind flicked to Jess and he licked his lips, closed his eyes, and Ruby's face flashed before him. He opened them and looked over at Tera, who was adjusting the radio dials. Oldies music flooded the car immersing from the station.

“What the world needs now is love, sweet love,” crooned the singer emotionally.

“That's pretty much the truth,” Tera exclaimed. Les nodded, agreeing with her. But, what kind of love?

As the walked towards her school gym, Les looked around at all the other students, foreign to him, dressed to their nines in their formal gowns and tuxedos, the girls were beautiful and the boys were all gangly skinny arms and pimply faces. Les secretly hoped he looked nothing like this.

Tera cleared her throat as they waited in the bustling line to enter the dance. Les looked at her and she looked down at him, her blue eyes piercing.

“So, I've got a question for you,” she began and he nodded, his head tilted with curiosity. “What do you think of Ruby?”

So, this was it, Les thought. This was the do or die, the tell or be silent. This was the first moment towards making his choice...

“She's pretty cool,” was his reply.

“Oh,” came Tera and they moved up in line.

“She's kind of quiet though,” Les said, trying to keep the conversation going without seeming too eager. “That's all right though. Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered, is all,” came Tera's reply. And, then they were interrupted as some girls came up from behind and called her name. She turned and smiled at the three girls in line behind them and introduced them around to Les as “Maggie, Deborah, and Karen”.   

Dying Inside To Hold You

One Final Time

Les lay on his back, Pink Floyd filling his blazed brain as well as his room, Jess lay on the bed beside him, stoned as well. They'd been hanging out fairly regularly since that day they met at the mall and went to Mickey's house. Their schools were fairly close and a bus ride was the shortest distance between their destinations. With eyes mostly closed, Les felt the nearness of her, could feel her soft breathing by his side, and found himself growing excited. She let out a sigh beside him and he turned to face her.

“Um, Jess,” he began, brokenly. “There is something I've been meaning to ask you.”

Jess turned on her side to face him.

“Yes?” she said, her blue eyes getting large and sparkly. “What is it?

“Well, when we were with Mickey that one time, the first time,” he began. “You said something that was, I don't know, kind of weird.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Well, he asked if we were together,” he began. “And, you said that we just got together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, I mean, why?” Les wanted to know.

“Well, um, see Mickey always liked me and I really don't, so I just said that to, kind of, get him off my back for awhile,” She said quickly. “That's all...I mean, I didn't mean to offend you or anything.”

“Oh so,” Les started, then stopped, then began again. “So, you didn't mean anything by it?”

“Like what?” Jess said, innocently.

“Like do you like me, you know?”

“As more than a friend?” Jess asked.

“Um, yeah...,” Les trailed off.

“Maybe,” she smiled and turned over on her back, but kept her head turned towards him. “What about you?”

“Maybe,” was all Les could say and he felt the urge increasing inside of him to kiss her. She smiled at him, invitingly. “So, what now?” he began and then Jess leaned over and let her lips touch his barely before pulling away.

“So, maybe that's more than maybe,” she smiled, pulling away. “Maybe I liked you since camp, you know.”

“Wow,” was all Les could say, smiling. Then the phone rang. He didn't move to answer it. It rang three times and Les could hear his mother in the other room answering it. A few minutes passed it seemed, and then they heard her calling for him.

“Les, phone for you!”

Les got up slowly and moved towards the door.

“I'll be right back,” he said, smiling in what he hoped was a seductive fashion at Jess. She nodded in return and rolled over on her side, her eyes closed.

Les padded down the hallway in his socked feet and into the kitchen, where his mother held the portable phone in front of her. He took it from her, hoping not to appear to stoned, in a silent thank you.

“Hello?” he said into the speaker. A tiny girlish voice answered his.

“Um, hi,” was all it said. It took a full minute for Les to register the familiarity of the voice during which time his heart started racing, in excitement as much as confusion. Finally, he said,

“Ruby?”

“Um, yeah,” she began. “I finally called you, sorry its been so long, I've been...busy.”

That was only partially true, Ruby was thinking, mostly she was just too nervous to call him. What if he didn't feel the same?

“Hi,” he smiled into the phone at last but then he remembered Jess and looked towards his room down the long hallway. “Well, how are you?”

“I'm doing fine,” she began. “So...um, you?”

“Yeah, good,” he started, and then moved towards the sliding glass door, opened it, and stepped out into the early spring evening coolness. “Sorry, I'm just really baked right now.”

“Oh, its okay,” she said. “Just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime or...”

“Um, yeah, yeah, I'd like that.”

“So?”

“So?”

“Um, when?” Ruby finally asked.

“Um, you know, I'm kind of busy right now with school and...stuff, so I'll call you, okay?”

“Um, okay, sounds good,” Ruby began and then remembered, “You have my number, right?”

“Yeah, I think so and if not, I'll just call you,” which sounded reasonable to Les but Ruby asked, “Wait, how, what?”

He saw his error and then said, “Um, yeah give it to me.”

He moved back into the warm kitchen and dining room linoleum floored rooms and grabbed a pen and paper.

“Are you ready?” She asked and he gave a “Uh-huh” as the affirmative. “Okay, its 857-9128, you may have to dial 1 first, so...”

“Got it,” Les said and then fell silent. Did he want to get off the phone with her? Could he think of anything more to keep her on the line? His mind raced while he realized Jess was waiting for him, on the bed, for what? Where was that going anyway? Finally he breathed out, “So, I'll call you soon, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she answered. “Bye now.”

They hung up and Les returned the phone to hits holder and walked back into the room. Jess was sitting up on the bed and smiled up at him when he entered.

“So, who was that?” she wanted to know.

“Oh, it was Ruby,” he answered and sat beside her.

“Oh,” was all she said. They were both silent and the Pink Floyd CD changed its song. Jess walked over and turned it down, stared at him for a few minutes with her arms folded.

He looked over at her, not sure what, if anything, was wrong or if he did anything or even what he should do if he had. He waited in what seemed like forever.

“Do you like her?” Jess finally broke the awkwardness. Les looked up at her, confused, because he didn't really know the answer to that.

“How do you mean?” was all he could say.

“Well, do you like her more than friends or...,” Jess began and let her words trail off.

“I don't know,” was all he could answer.

“Well, maybe you need to figure that out,” she said and grabbed her bag and headed out the bedroom door. So, was that it? Should he follow her? Let her go? His stoned brain was reeling with all that had happened, his heart in confusion. He got up and followed her out the front door, to the walkway. She turned and looked him over.

“Just call me, when you get things figured out, okay?” then she turned and headed down the block towards the bus-stop.   

Linger

One Final Time

One Final Time

Across town, Les sat quietly and dejectedly in the food court of the local mall. Before him sat a Burger King meal which he stared at without eating it, playing with his french fries, nibbling here and there. He could not accurately describe how he felt, just this sense of emptiness within him. Looking up, he stared about him at the young families sitting nearby, toddlers in booster seats and other children crying and running about the restaurant tables. He sighed and turned back to his meal, feeling alone. He heard footsteps approaching.

“Trip, is that you?”

He looked up and saw Jess, his friend from summer camp, standing above him. He smiled up at her, relieved at the pleasant distraction. She was quite beautiful and stunning.

“Yeah, Jess,” he stood up in front of her. She was holding a tray with pizza and a soda on it. “You want to sit down?”

“Yes, please,” she said and they sat down across from each other.

“So how are you?” Les asked, looking her over lustily.

“I'm all right,” she began, sipping her coke. “Just looking for home-coming dresses, you know.”

“Oh,” was all he could manage and begin eating his burger.

“What about you?” She asked at last, picking up her slice of pizza and looking over at him.

He didn't know what to say, hesitated on being honest yet of all the friends he had in this world, that he gained in his short life, she was one of the few that he could be completely open.

“Um,” he began brokenly. “Not so good, actually.”

“Yeah?” she responded, eyebrows raised.

“Parents' so happily just told me they are separating,” he breathed out at last, never knowing how relieved he felt to finally speak his thoughts.

“Wow, sorry to hear that,” Jess said sympathetically. “My parents divorced when I was like three, then my mom got remarried to my step-dad when I was eight. So, I was just a kid when it all went down.”

“Yeah,” he began. “I guess they've been trying to work it out for years, maybe since I was born, but just think its best if they take this step, or something like that they said.”

Jess looked him over and he could feel her piercing blue eyes surveying him deeply. She could see the heaviness coming off of him and felt sympathy.

“So, what are you doing today?” she asked.

“Not sure,” he said. “Just trying to stay out of everyone's hair at home, I guess.”

“All right,” she smiled slowly. “Want to make a day of it?”

“You mean, you want to hang out with me?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Homecoming dresses can wait, that's boring anyway after awhile. Let's go downtown.”

He nodded up at her and they both turned towards their meals and quietly finished.   

Everyday I Write the Book

One Final Time

One Final Time

The outside scenery flooding by the bus seemed to pass quickly from the early city morning to the rural landscape making way towards the summer camp. Once arrived at the camp destination, the bus parked itself on a rural road, releasing the students and junior counselors to begin the long trek down the hill to the river, where canoes awaited to take them and their possessions the place that would be their home for a week, for a life-time.

Les, or Trip, swung his guitar over his shoulder as he grabbed the rest of his belongings from the belly of the bus. He turned to see Ruby, waiting behind him.

“Which one is yours?” he asked, hoping to once again find away to know her better. She pointed silently towards an orange sleeping bag with a pillow tied to it and a large green knapsack. As she did, he thought he saw some peculiar-looking vertical lines (or scars) running up her wrist. Noticing, she quickly pulled her arm back and pulled the flannel shirt, she was still wearing even though it had to be in the high nineties at the least, down over her hand. He said nothing as he bent over and grabbed the bags, setting his own down as he did so, and handed them over to her. She nodded at him and made her way towards the line of other campers and counselors streaming down the hill.

The river flowed gently as the young approached, setting their packs down momentarily in order to thus remove their shoes to cross. Bags placed in canoes and the younger campers too, the counselors worked together to pull them across to the shore, the entrance leading to the camp. The water was cold as it rose to just above their ankles, a healing energy unknown to Ruby as she made her way across, stepping gingerly even with the added weight of her canoe in order to not hit a stone or turtle, and felt the mud squish between her toes. For the first time in a very long time, she felt what it must be like to be truly alive...and the beginnings of foreign feeling of happiness began to spread throughout her body.

The sand and stones on the beach mixed with the mud on her feet as she stepped ashore and pulled the boat on land. She helped the campers (how cute they were) to gather their items, found her shoes and her own items, and followed the crowd to the entrance of camp, then to the tree-lined center of camp where everyone gathered to meet and greet and find out which cabins they were placed in.

The wind rustled softly through the arena as the head counselors loudly announced the list of campers' names and the children filed downwards to meet them, the junior counselors' joining in the throng. The other counselors and older junior counselors cheered loudly with each announcement. Once the cabin-mates had met and been announced, they made their way back to their place in the audience, which would be their place at all camp meetings, the head counselor on one side, the junior on the other.

As the remaining campers found their places, the rest of the camp, bags and sleeping bags in tow, made their way up the hill to their respective cabins, their homes for the week long adventure before them. What was to come lay before them unknown as they began to make themselves comfortable in their new surroundings. The counselor joking with her teenager counterpart, the campers shyly greeting one another and sharing stories.

In that first meeting time, sitting around each other in a circle, Ruby's head counselor, Breeze, gently laid down the cabin rules and the laws of camp. Ruby watched as Breeze joked and communicated easily with the children, feeling a pang on her wrists bringing out that familiar desire to cut. Once again she pulled down the grey flannel she was still wearing over her scars. Packed away in her suitcase, her mother had given her several coverings for the slice-scars, large bracelets, armbands for swimming or “strength-training”, anything for a good cover story, better to not show the truth of one's misery.

The days would pass peacefully for Ruby and the kids, filled with archery lessons, jewelry making activities, swimming, hiking, and the nightly shows of campfire. All the junior counselors had their daily meetings with their Junior Counselor Leader, Seuss, who allowed them space to be the kids they still were and taught them the life lessons needed for childcare. All the teenagers looked up to her and to the other senior counselors in their twenties, whose lives seemed full of sophistication and allure. They longed for the freedom these older friends had, not under the watchful eye and suspicious supervision of their parents' and guardians. Little did they know, these senior counselors whose lives they envied were in fact in some ways envying them their youth, longing themselves for the more carefree days of their teenage years.

Ruby found a close connection with the curly haired girl, Tera, and they grew to have a fast connection. It was to her that Ruby confided her growing affection for Les, who was now mostly known as Trip, around camp. Ruby and Tera had not yet found their “camp names”. For his part, Trip (Les) seemed to be an average teenage boy, an interest not just in one particular girl but in many in the quest to satisfy his desires. He did give Ruby some attention though, of which moments she lived for, repeating often in her mind and heart.

One such moment stood out among the rest. It was late afternoon their first week at camp coming to an end, Ruby was sitting alone in the designated junior counselor private area, a solitary table amongst the leafy trees and shrubbery set apart from the rest of the camp. Before her was a notebook opened, she listened to the delightful sound of the children playing in the water as it lapped against the shore. Peace filled her heart, a feeling so familiar to her in this place and yet unknown in her life back home. Every moment or so, she'd pick up her pen and write a few thoughts before then staring back into space, a contented smile on her face.

Quietly behind her, Trip entered, carrying his guitar cradled in his arms, the strap around his neck. She turned and looked at him, seeking to hide her blush letting her hair fall in front of her face.

“Mind if I join you?” he stammered out. She nodded and turned to her journal, trying to avert her gaze from him and trying desperately to think of something to say to him that would be cool and flirtatious, as she had seen the other girls' do so effortlessly. He sat on the opposite side of the table from her and faced the river. Quietly, he began strumming the guitar. “I'm sorry, do you mind?”

She shook her head and managed, “How long have you played?”

“Not long,” he began. “Basically this summer. I had a girl-friend back home for awhile that played, when she broke up with me, I just kind of kept up at it, don't know why, really, just something to pass the time.”

She nodded and looked back down at her journal, not knowing what to write, but waiting for him to say more.

“What's in the notebook?” he asked, turning slightly to her and letting his hands fall away from the strings.

“Oh, just..it's nothing, just my thoughts,” she said, ashamed and looking away.

“I'm very interested in that,” he said and she turned to see him smiling at her. “Can I see?”

She hesitated and said, “I don't know.”

“Its okay,” he said. “Its none of my business.”

He began playing again and she watched him, shyly, out of the corner of her eye. Noticing, he turned back to her.

“Ever played?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Never even held one,” She explained. “Played piano when I was a kid.”

“I can teach you, if you'd like,” he offered and Ruby's heart soared to heights it never thought possible. She nodded and he motioned for her to join him on his side of the table. She came around, leaving her notebook open and sat beside him with a gasp. He removed the guitar strap from his neck and placed the guitar in her arms. Then, he placed her hands in the appropriate places on the instrument. “It may hurt your finger tips the first couple times, until you build up the callouses.”

She looked at him and he laughed. She smiled back.

“This is c,” he said, placing her fingers on her left hand on the appropriate strings. “Then you strum with your right.”

Doing so, she awkwardly heard the music flowing outward. He showed her the other notes, g, f, a, b, and she played each, reveling in the time spent together. A harsh breeze suddenly kicked up, shattering the moment because the pages of her notebook ruffled in the wind. She turned and watched as a loose slip of paper blew out and fluttered by their faces to quick to grab. Momentarily it fell on the ground and Toast reached down quickly snatching it up before it would travel farther on.

For a moment, he caught sight of the words scribbled on the page, full of pain and loneliness and he suddenly suspected why she always wore the armbands. She got up to retrieve the paper from him, still holding the guitar, which was the only thing between them as they faced each other. His eyes searching hers, as if to ask why. Then, he handed her the slip of paper and she, too, saw what she had written.

“I cannot stand my life anymore,” they began. “I do not want to live. I will end this.”

She averted her eyes, folding the paper, and sticking it deep within her pocket to hide the evidence. She began to remove the guitar strap from her neck to give him back his instrument but he grabbed her right hand and pulled it towards him. Slowly, wordlessly, he let his finger run up towards her armband. She shivered with his touch, not just with pleasure but from the shame. He pulled down the band and saw, the sewn up scars of the slices. He looked up and their eyes met, hers filling with shameful tears and his with pained wonder. She pulled her arm away quickly, handed him the guitar, and pulled her armband back in place.

“Don't tell,” she said in a pained whisper. “Don't tell...anyone.”

He took the guitar and looked her over.

“It's okay, they won't care,” he said, trying to reassure.

“Exactly,” was all she could say and moved to collect her journal, starting to leave.

“I won't,” he said, his words stopping her. “I won't tell.”

She turned and looked at him, before ascending towards the main camp.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said, breathing out. “Always.”

Everybody Hurts