Free The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts Page A

his leather jacket and his big smile and how much I hated him.
    “They left,” he said. “I scared them away. They won’t come back.”
    “I’m going to kill them,” I said.
    Gazer didn’t say anything. He pulled me tighter and we sat for a while longer until the ambulance arrived, the bright red lights flashing against my face. The EMTs came and Gazer convinced me to let go of him so they could take care of me.
    “Don’t leave me,” I said.
    “I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll be right over there. You’re not alone.”
    They pulled me away from Christian’s body and split us up. One of them stayed with my newly dead friend; the other brought me to the ambulance, where he sat me down on a stretcher in the back of the vehicle. Gazer came over and joined us, trying to fill the paramedic in on the details. He told them how he found us alone and managed to use CPR to bring me back. He didn’t mention the bad men
    The paramedic checked my vital signs and did a few other things that I didn’t quite understand. I was perfectly fine until he tried to pull my shirt up over my head. Only then did I resist. I was still scared.
    “Come on, miss,” the paramedic said. “I need to check you. If you’re uncomfortable, I can make the man go away. This will only take a second.”
    “I want him to stay,” I said. I had never met Gazer before; hell, I still didn’t know his full name, but I felt safe with him around. There was something in his eyes, a certain kind of sadness that made me feel secure. Without him by my side, I probably would have completely fallen apart, especially with what came next.
    When the paramedic peeled off my wet shirt, I saw the veins. A spiderweb-like pattern that started at my chest and stretched outward, stopping just below my neckline. Many of the veins crisscrossed up over my shoulder. They were dark red, almost purple..
    “Jesus.” The paramedic whistled. “What the hell are these kids thinking these days? They keep getting younger and younger.” He wasn’t even speaking to me anymore. “I mean, come on; she can’t be older than twelve. How old are you, kid?”
    “Eleven,” I whispered.
    “What on earth made you try Heam? Just how stupid are you?”
    “I didn’t,” I said. My lower lip quivered. The tears were threatening to push their way forward again. Why was I being blamed for this?
    “I believe she and the boy had the drug forced on them,” Gazer said, coming to my rescue.
    “What the hell were they doing out this late at night?” the paramedic asked. “Where are their parents? If these were my kids …”
    “But they’re not your kids,” Gazer answered. “And I don’t think you should continue this conversation. You’re clearly upsetting the girl.”
    “Whatever,” the paramedic said. “Not my problem. We’ll take her to Sacred Heart. You going to come along? You know her parents?”
    In the end, I didn’t go to the hospital. When they brought Christian’s body into the ambulance in the large black bag, I began screaming. I thought the shadows had gotten to him. No amount of coaxing by either Gazer or the paramedics could keep me under control. Besides, there wasn’t much more they could do for me. I’d survived the overdose; the only thing left to do was contact my mother. No hospital in the world would waste the bed space to keep a new Heam addict under observation. Gazer finally convinced them that he’d take me home.
    I stood there, holding Gazer’s hand, watching the ambulance take my best friend away.
    Christian was thirteen, two years older than me. We lived next door to each other and he often took care of me because our parents were never around. He was the most beautiful boy in the world in my eyes. I had such a schoolgirl crush on him. We had gone out that evening because both our mothers were working late shifts and we wanted to meet his father when he got off work. We had done it dozens of times; sometimes his dad would take us out