Free Second Sight by Maria Rachel Hooley Page B

It’s
just wood. Your daddy can replace it!” M aybe he can just replace me, too, I
think. If I don’t matter to Lev, why would I matter to anyone else?
Sobs overwhelm me, and I go into the bathroom and lock that door as
well, wanting to put as much space between us as
possible.
    The pounding stops, and I know I’ve reached
as deeply as I could to wound him. I thought it would make me feel
better—that it would at least take away the burning inside—but I
don’t think anything can do that, no matter how hard I try. Jimmie
is right. I am broken, and there’s no fixing me. All this is for
what? Some angel who chose to return to Heaven and leave me in this
hell?
    It’s the middle of summer, and I’m shaking. I
strip away the clothes and toss them into the trash—yet another
thing I never want to see again. As I twist the knobs, letting the
water warm up for a shower, I glimpse myself in the mirror—pale,
thin, and strange. I don’t know this person anymore. Turning away,
I step into the shower, flinching from the scalding rush of heat
across my back. I stand there, letting the water sluice around me
and run down the drain. I absently finger the scratch on my wrist.
It’s such a small wound. Or maybe that’s the normal part; maybe the
rest of me is the wound. Who’s to say? I touch my arms where Scott
gripped me, searching for bruises. It doesn’t matter if I can see
them; I feel them just the same.
    I slowly sit in the middle of the shower and
let the water rain down on my body, more of a fine mist now by the
time it reaches me. I think of the falls and the rush of air as my
fingers slipped from my gloves and how the mist accepted me,
drawing me in as I plummeted, at once motionless—suspended amid
that icy rush. And then the blinding light. He’d come for me then.
But now—now this is all there is. I wrap my arms around my chest
and rock back and forth as more tears come.
    It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
    Eventually, the water turns cold. At first, I
don’t even notice; I don’t care. Then, when my body starts
shivering, I turn off the water and get out, mechanically grabbing
a towel and dabbing the water from my skin. Then just as
mechanically, I slip into my pajamas and crawl into bed. I give the
locked door one last look at the locked door and turn out the
light.

    I don’t know how much time has passed before
I hear someone jiggling the knob and the door slowly opens,
admitting a slice of light from the hallway. The rest of the room
is dark, so night must have fallen at some point. I try to drift
back to sleep, but until whoever it is goes away, I might as well
just pretend. I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing to say.
    “ Is she all right?” Griffin
asks.
    Someone leans in close. I’m guessing probably
Jimmie.
    “ She’s sleeping.” It’s not
Jimmie’s voice but Scott’s. I want to stiffen up and tell him to
get the hell out, but I can’t. Scott steps back. I hear his shoes
scuffing across the hard wood floor.
    “ Thank God. I’ve never seen
her like that, not even right after Lev died. She seemed to have
more hope then.” His voice is strained, but good for him.
Let him be
strained for a while. You get what you deserve.
    “ Grief does funny things to
people. Give her time. I think my friends can help.”
    “ I hope so.” The chairs by
my desk creak, indicating they have both sat down. I wish they
would go away. “Did you ever get a hold of Jimmie?”
    “ Not yet.”
    “ What time was he supposed
to be home?” I edge one eye open, and see Griffin check his
watch.
    “ He should have been home
hours ago.”
    “ Then I guess we should go
downstairs and wait.” Scott stands.
    “ You really think she’s
going to be okay?” Griffin looks at me, and I snap my eyes shut, hoping he doesn’t see.
    “ Yeah.”
    I hear them step away when Scott grabs the
knob to close the door, I open my eyes. Even in the darkness, I
know he sees me. His lips part, and his blue eyes seem