Free Kingdom Come by Michelle Smith

trees without saying a word. What was that all about?
    Danny shrugged, as if answering my unspoken question, and I hurried along to catch up with Ethan. The two of us walked in silence, each picking up scraps of wood here and there. Once our arms were full, we headed back in the direction of the shack.
    “It’s freezing out here,” I said in an attempt to diffuse the tension still lingering.
    The corner of his lips turned up into a half-smile. Finally. I’d missed seeing that smile. For some reason, as long as Ethan felt okay about things, so did I.
    “Well, it’s December in Pennsylvania,” he said. “Kind of comes with the territory.” I bit back a smile of my own, and he spared me a glance for the first time in what felt like ages. “Seriously, though. You okay?”
    “I’m starting to think we should copyright that question. It seems to be our go-to.”
    He chuckled. “You have a point.”
    We arrived back at the campsite, and the doctor showed us where to pile the wood. Danny had finally ventured out of the shack, though judging from his hooded eyelids, he was already half-asleep. I felt his pain. Never would I have imagined that walking would tire me out so much. Of course, we had been walking the better part of twelve hours. Danny helped Dr. Fowler get the fire started up while the rest of us plopped down in a circle around them. A tiny flame crackled to life, and it only took a few seconds for it to grow.
    “Finally.” Danny dusted off his hands and sat in the dirt between Ethan and Nate. “I was turning into a damn ice pop.”
    “Mmm, ice pops,” Haven said. “You know, I haven’t had one of those since I was like, six. My parents banned all the good stuff once my episodes got out of control. Said there were links between junk food and my condition.”
    I glanced over just as she rolled her eyes with a small smile, which quickly faded. The fire cast an orange glow on her usually pale face, and though I’d become used to her stoic expression, pain was now etched in her features as she stared at the flames.
    After clearing my throat, I ventured to ask, “Episodes?”
    “Bipolar,” she said in little more than a whisper, not meeting my eyes. “My moods used to shift faster than you can blink, but they’ve been on the low side for the past few years. You know parents, though—always looking for a magic cure or explanation. First, it was the sugar and dyes in our food. Then, it was the chemicals in the cleaning stuff Mom used.” She scoffed. “Ten years later, they still didn’t seem to understand that maybe, just maybe, it was my brain that was screwed up. The only reason they threw me in Sunrise was because the ER doctor told them I needed professional help.”
    “ER doctor?”
    She held up an arm and tugged on her sleeve, and I made out the still-fresh scars before she shoved the sleeve back down. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to fight tears, while focusing back on the fire.
    Silence fell over the group, and though Ethan scooted closer and wrapped an arm around my waist, I couldn’t stop staring at the girl who was now even more identical to my sister. The night that everything changed flashed through my head, when I woke up to Mom’s screaming after finding Bethany in our bathroom at midnight. A weird sob-like gurgle rose in my throat, and I clapped a hand over my mouth to conceal the noise. I couldn’t cry here. Not right now.
    “You okay?” Ethan whispered.
    I sniffled and nodded, leaning my head against his shoulder. The fire’s flames danced in front of us, sharp reds and oranges against the night. “My sister has scars just like that.” I inhaled deeply. “Had. She had scars like that.”
    He remained silent, but tightened his hold on me. “Mom found her in a pool of blood with Dad’s razor beside her,” I continued. “The night we rushed her to the hospital is the same night my visions became worse. I freaked out right there in the waiting room. She was just so… so