Chapter 10 #3
"...I'd hate myself knowing you…you g-got hurt," I murmur. I could pull back. Pretend it didn’t happen.
My gaze flicks to hers, searching for discomfort, fear, anything that tells me to back off.
Yet all I see is that blue, wide, unguarded look.
Our fingers still barely touch, breathing each other in.
The room goes still. Only the hum of the computer tower fills the room.
"Thank you," she says, barely audible. "For worrying about me." Her eyes search for mine, and I swear she’s asking me something without saying a word. And at that moment, I know with certainty that I had it right.
Alaska and I do speak the same language.
Alaska
There are moments in life when you know you’re about to step into the unknown.
Your heart hammers, your breath turns shallow, and still, you go through with it.
You step into the darkness, knowing all too well that no good will come out of it but sorrow and despair.
Like a porcelain doll waiting to be broken, you carry on, both feet into the one thing you know you shouldn’t indulge, because the beating organ inside your chest is craving it more than life itself.
The touch.
The feeling.
The fire burning your skin in such a delicious way.
Coming here today was a mistake, but what a sweet, slippery slope. What’s hidden in my mind, in the dark corners that no one should ever explore, will be my downfall. My ticket for a lifetime of rejection and fingers pointed at me.
This, or a one-way ticket to an asylum.
I shouldn’t do this, not because I’m not good enough, but because no one deserves that.
Jack’s a good man, kind, attentive. He listened to me as if I mattered, as if he was longing to hear more of my voice, of my stories.
What will happen when he learns the truth of what happened six years ago?
When he knows what a despicable human being I am?
There’s no logic, no rational reason to do what I’m doing right now.
Brushing his fingers like I’m not craving to stand, circle this wooden desk, sit on his lap, and ask him to hold me tight, so tight it’ll hurt.
Only the burn would be good. In another reality, I’d do that. And it would be warm. It wouldn’t hurt.
“I…” I mutter in one breath. “I should go.” And just as our fingers caress each other, longing for more of his touch, I bring my hand back to my side like I’ve been burned and bite my lip until the tang of blood fills my mouth.
“Alaska, w-wait,” he pleads, standing after I do, while I awkwardly look around me as if I’ve forgotten something here. I leave like a thief, like a mad girl, which is what I am. Jack seems to think his stutter is an anomaly, but I barely hear it.
I’m the anomaly.
And he’s…he’s the one who could find a way to my heart and pull the trigger on it once and for all. His footsteps follow me to the exit, but he doesn’t stop me; his voice only calls my name like an echo fading as I go.
“Alaska?” I hear him ask, but I’ve already passed the front desk and the exit door, my chest heaving as my ears plug with the sound of chunks of ice knocking against each other, tingles freezing my scars and bringing me back to the day that changed my life forever.
I swore to myself that I wouldn’t live anymore.
I had every intention to stay like this, dead inside, like a corpse that would never have a chance to be revived. And life had to put Jack in my way.
I slide into my car, the wheel facing the front of the station, where Jack is standing, watching me, his arms at his sides, helpless, with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.
His silhouette shrinks in the rearview mirror until it disappears entirely.
I drive for half an hour, in the opposite direction from my house.
I drive until I can’t differentiate where I’m heading, until I don’t even know where I am.
Nothing can stop my thoughts from racing.
I should’ve known better. Warmth doesn’t last. Soon enough, the ice will come back and reduce any remnants of fire that used to exist. It happened once; it can happen again.
The road blurs as I keep driving, the lines on the pavement dissolving into the shadows of the trees.
My breathing is shallow, the air closing in.
I pull over, the tires crunching on the gravel shoulder.
The silence out here is suffocating, pressing against my temple, robbing me of the solace of solitude.
I shut the engine off and rest my forehead against the wheel, my fingers still gripping it so tightly they ache.
The scars on my knuckles throb, and I glance down at them, at the faint lines crisscrossing my skin.
I fight the urge to scream, to let it out, but the sound gets trapped in my chest, turning into a ragged sob.
My whole body shakes as the tears come, hot and unrelenting.
The ice cracks in my memory, and I see it, hear it, the muffled cries, the deafening splits of my flesh.
My stomach twists, and I force myself to take a breath, but it doesn’t help.
I press a trembling hand to my face, wiping away the tears.
I betrayed myself today, allowing the possibility of Jack to take me away.
Curling my hand into a fist, I press it against my thigh, but the ache doesn’t go away.
What will I do now that Jack brought me back to the living?
Six Years Ago
A Few Hours After the Incident
Is someone talking to me?
“Alaska, can you hear me?” A masculine voice breaks through the haze.
“Somebody get me another blanket, she’s shaking!
” He shouts at the door, his voice rising in urgency.
I stare at the cold concrete floor, my legs curled up on the chair.
Where am I? Police station? Hospital? My mind is splintering, caught between memory and reality.
Did someone touch my fingers? Did they notice the blood? The harsh glow of the neon lights burns my eyes as I blink, and when I glance down, I see dark red stains clinging to my fingernails. A hand rests on my shoulder, but I recoil instinctively.
“Shit, sorry,” the man mutters. “Laska, it’s me.
Jared. Can you hear me?” His voice is cautious, almost pleading.
I know that name. Don’t I? “You’re in shock, Laska,” he says softly, as if afraid I’ll break even more.
“But we need to know what happened. Even if it’s hard, we need to know everything you saw.
Anything you remember? If someone’s out there…
If someone hurt you…” His voice wavers. “Please, talk to me. I promise, once we’ve got your statement, you can go home and rest. Be with your family.
” I let out a brittle, hollow laugh. “We need to know if it was an accident, Alaska. Did someone push-” I open my mouth, trying to speak, but my words are tangled, stuck somewhere between my chest and throat.
“I’m…” The words barely escape my lips, fragile and broken. “I’m not… here anymore.”
“What?” Jared leans closer, “Laska, course you are. You’re alive.
You’re gonna get through this. Accidents happen.
You will-” My gaze drops to my hands. The fresh stitches standing out, stark black lines across my knuckles.
The maddest idea takes root, curling like a weed through the wreckage of my thoughts.
I need them.
I need the scars.
They don’t have the right to heal because I won’t. No one can take them away from me. This is my punishment and my burden to carry. I take a deep breath and count.
One.
Two.
Three.
I dig my nails into the stitches, clawing them out as pain blooms and blood beads fresh across my skin. The agony doesn’t matter.
“No, stop! Alaska, stop!” the man yells, his hands fumbling to grab mine.
“HELP! We need help here!” His voice cracks, and suddenly, more footsteps rush into the room.
Hands grab at me, prying my arms away. I thrash against them, screaming words that don’t make sense even to me, as the sound of ice shattering echoes through my skull, haunting me.
Someone finally snaps, muttering under their breath, “Fucking nuts,” as zip ties cinch tight around my wrists, binding them to the arms of the cold metal chair.
It doesn’t matter what they think, what they call me.
Nothing matters anymore. Because I died out there too.
They don’t know that, though. How could they?
They didn’t see it. When the ice wouldn’t give way, I swore I felt our hearts stop at the same time.
I promised myself, in those frozen moments, that I would live for what’s left of me. A hollow, half-life that I will drag out until it’s done. I’ll keep breathing, but only so I never forget how much it hurts.
And if this is what being crazy looks like, maybe I’m okay with that.