Damage by Anya Parrish Read Free Book Online

search for a spot of red amid the gray and brown. She’s up there somewhere; I can feel her, I can smell the scent of peppermint and salt and medicine that clings to her hair, I can—
    “Dani. I need help.” Something in Jesse’s tone tells me this isn’t the first time he’s asked. “I need to get this thing off my leg before it breaks something.”
    My eyes snap back to his. “Right. Right.” I nod until I realize I’ve nodded too long and stop myself with a clench of my jaw. Hold it together. I can hold it together. My trembling hands find the scratchy bark of the tree and push. Nothing. I gather my strength and push again, but the limb doesn’t move an inch. “It’s too heavy. I can’t move it.”
    “Shit,” he whispers. I turn to see his forehead pressed to the back of one hand, his eyes squeezed shut in pain or terror or a mixture of both. “I can’t stay like this. It’s not safe. I can’t defend myself.”
    I sway a little on my feet. It almost sounds like he … like he saw …
    “Did you see something? Up in the tree?” I slide down to sit by his trapped leg, clawing my fingers into the cold sand while I wait for his answer.
    He’s silent for a moment before turning to look at me over his shoulder. “No. I didn’t see anything in the tree.” It’s the truth, but not the whole truth; the haunted look in his eyes assures me he knows that limb didn’t fall on its own. “I didn’t look up in time. What did you see?”
    “I … ” What can I say? What can I say that won’t make me sound as nuts as he worried I’d find him? “No-nothing.”
    “Nothing made you scream like that?”
    “No. I … sometimes … when my sugar is low … ”
    When my sugar is low .
    That’s it! Rachel isn’t really back; I’m just starting to hallucinate. That’s all this is. As soon as I get a Coke or a box of juice into my body, Rachel will vanish. She’ll be walled back inside her prison in my mind and life will go back to normal.
    Pretty lies, pretty lies, always with the pretty lies.
    I whirl to search the tree limbs. I twist first to one side and then the other, scouring the riverbed for that brown dress. The voice I heard in my head wasn’t mine. It was hers, Rachel’s, that sing-song little girl’s voice that once made me laugh. Now it makes me want to start screaming again. Instead, I bite my lip, afraid if I get going I’ll never stop, that I’ll scream until my brain turns to liquid and runs out my nose in a rush of red.
    Red mouth, bloody lips. I should see them. She has to be close. But where is she? Why isn’t she showing herself? How long do we have before the next attack?
    “Dani? Can you hear me?” Jesse asks.
    “Yes.” But my voice is too soft, too far away from my ears. I have to get out of here. I have to get Jesse out of here. But how am I supposed to do that when I can barely lift the twelve-pound weights in gym class, let alone a couple hundred pounds of tree?
    My fingers clench and suddenly I’m fisting two handfuls of sand. I look down, taking longer than I should to connect the dots. Sand. Hands. Freedom. “I can dig you out.”
    Jesse nods, relief in his eyes. “I’ll help.” He twists as much as he’s able with one leg pinned, his big hand reaching down to join mine. Together we claw at the damp sand until our skin is coated with grit and our fingers cramped with cold, but finally—just as the faint echo of sirens pierce the air—we manage to create enough space for Jesse to tug his leg free.
    I gasp when I see it. His khaki pants are shredded and bloody and a thick shard of glass protrudes from the pale skin of his calf. I reach for it without thinking and tug it free. Jesse flinches, and then flinches again when I press my fingers over the wound to stop the rush of blood.
    “Thanks,” he says. “That’s better … I think.”
    “You’re welcome,” I whisper, staring at the glass on the ground, marveling that he was able to walk. My gaze slides back