Free The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts

can make that sound. Not a day goes by when I don’t miss him. But I never looked down at him or treated him like a second-class citizen.”
    I stand up and brush some lint off my skirt. “Thank you, Mr. Erikson, but I’m okay, really, I am.” I gather up my books. “It was a long time ago and I’m better now. I’m sorry about your brother.”
    Mr. Erikson nods and stands up himself. Walking over to the front of his room, he sits at his desk as the door opens and new students come in, laughing with each other over some joke. They stare at me for a second before heading to the back of the room.
    “If you need help with anything,” Mr. Erikson says, “you know where my office is.”
    “Thank you,” I say.
    “Be sure to get more rest,” he adds as I head off toward the door. “No more sleeping in class.”
    “Okay.”
    There is always going to be the odd person who wants to stand up for me but I don’t want their help.
    I’m a pretty little piece of sunshine. I know those words. I hate them.

    I was eleven when I saw hell. Torn apart. Blood dripping from my body. Monsters in the shape of shadows terrorizing my mind. Not something anyone ever wants to experience.
    I have no idea how long I was dead. But when I came to, Gazer was kneeling over me, his hands resting on my chest, trying to jump-start my heart. I was lying in a puddle of water, my skin frozen beyond feeling, and Gazer’s hair dripping on me. The streetlights reflected off his face, and all the water droplets in his hair shone like a million diamonds. He looked like what I thought an angel might look like.
    “You’re going to be okay,” he said in a very calm voice.
    And I believed him.
    He helped me up carefully, his arms around my shoulders, and he took off his jacket and wrapped it around me. It was heavy and it smelled faintly like cigarettes. It didn’t really do much to warm me but the largeness made me feel covered and safe. I curled up inside that jacket and looked around.
    The bad men were gone.
    Christian’s body lay sprawled out a few feet away.
    He wasn’t moving. No chest rising up and down. His eyes were half-closed and he stared up at the sky, the rain falling onto his face. There were tiny pools of water in the corners of his eyes. Hands clenched, arms spread out, he looked like a small downfallen Jesus without his cross.
    “Is he dead?”
    Gazer nods. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t save you both. But understand me, there’s nothing in the world I wanted more to do.”
    “Is he in hell?”
    “No,” Gazer said. “Why would you think that?” He paused when he saw the tears instantly spring into my eyes. He leaned forward, his fingers touching my cheek, studying my expression, which fell apart at his touch. He waited, pulling my body close as I shook and sobbed. We sat together in the smelly alley and the rain continued to fall.
    “You didn’t see heaven, did you.” Not a question.
    I shook my head.
    “What did you see?”
    “Monsters.” My body trembled and I couldn’t control it. I wanted to tell him about the shadows and the way the metal pierced my body but the words wouldn’t come out. My teeth were chattering too hard. I swallowed several times, wondering if the shadow demon was still inside me.
    “You know none of that stuff is real. What you saw. It’s not heaven or hell. It means nothing. It’s more like a realistic dream that your brain invents to try and fight off the drugs.”
    I know he was trying to make me feel better but it didn’t work. My grandmother used to tell me that the most evil people went to hell because God punished sinners. That meant I was evil. I had no idea what I’d done to become bad but I did it. Maybe it was because I let Christian die. Maybe it was something I did before and I couldn’t remember. But I was doomed. Evil. I saw hell, and nothing Gazer said could make me think otherwise.
    “What happened to the bad men?” I finally asked. I thought of the man with