Page 54 of Limbo

“Callista,” I breathe out.

He pulls back, and the hand on my hip moves to the again forgotten picture frame. He slides it from my fingers. With the glass already broken, he easily rips out the photo and tosses the rest into the street. His body shifts against mine while he reaches in his pocket.

“Here.” He shoves a lighter into my hand. “Think of it as cheap therapy for shitty parents.”

I look from it to the picture in his hand to his eyes. My thumb flicks the lighter, brightening up the space between us. I hold it to the corner. The flame licks at the print, eating away at the joke of a couple who strive to make one another miserable regardless of those caught in the cross fire.

Nothing in my life has offered even a fraction of the release. I can breathe for the first time, and I never want the relief to end. Desperate not to suffocate anymore.

His eyes are still on me when mine return to him. He lets the burning relic fall to the ground. “Next time I have you alone, I won’t give a fuck about the boyfriend.”

He pushes off the car behind me and leaves my entire body as on fire as the fucking pile of ashes at my feet. It takes a second for me to remember how to function, but I manage to straighten up and walk across the lawn.

“Callista,” he calls after me.

I turn around, not feeling like I could resist if I tried.

The smile. That dimple.

“I’m Brock.”

And everything changes.

A rhythmic pounding in my skull accompanies a sense of emptiness inside me. A familiar combination I promised myself to never endure again. I pull the blanket over my head to block the sun streaming in the window. The longer I keep my eyes shut, the longer I put off dealing with what feels like one hell of a hangover.

When I roll over, a sharp pain shoots through my hip. My jaw clenches to absorb the agony radiating down my leg. Whatever the hell is happening needs to fucking stop. The drum in my head intensifies as I ease off the mattress, careful to keep pressure off my right side.

Felicia sits up in Cam’s bed just in time to see me tugging down my sweatpants. I don’t even remember coming back to the dorms.

She tosses off the blankets and scrambles out of bed. “Oh my God, Callie. What happened?”

A severe bruise covers my tender hip and extends down my thigh, the entire area red and swollen.

Whatdidhappen?

Memories flood in, fragmented and disjointed. Tony running from a bull. Bacon sizzling. Jordan’s mouth on mine. Trey carrying me to his truck. Pete sprinting down the pond dock and me screaming. A barn door hanging off its hinges. Rough stubble scratching my skin. Stars shining through bare tree branches. A lighter falling to the ground. Pete, already shirtless, taking off his jeans. Brock whispering in my ear, his body pressed against mine. My clothes all over the floor. My hands in someone’s hair.

“No. No. No.” I grab my phone from the nightstand.

Buried between panicked texts from Connor and concerned ones from Jordan are two from an unsaved number, but I recognize it. I brace myself for what waits.

Hey babe.

I miss you already.

What feels like iron-laced air vacates my lungs upon seeing Brock’s messages. I swipe at my burning eyes with the baggy sleeve of my sweatshirt—oh shit.Not my sweatshirt. I grasp at the fabric, pulling it away from my chest until I see the high school’s logo and Pete’s old jersey number on the front. A whimper escapes as I peel it off my body, not knowing which memories explain the clothing swap and which prompted Brock’s texts.

Felicia gasps, rushing over. “Your shoulder.”

She touches my back, and I reach behind me. Raw skin stings beneath my fingertips as they explore. I back to the mirror and crane my neck around to check the reflection. A wide scrape spans the width of my right shoulder blade. Bringing my arm in front of me, a long, thin burn on my left forearm catches my attention, the skin bright red with a sheen.

Felicia asks again what happened, but I just shake my head, unable to answer. It’s as if someone else has been living in my body. I don’t know what they’ve done with it. But I can guess.

Thoughts and feelings crash their way through me. I sink to the floor, the physical pain no match. Felicia lowers next to me and wraps a blanket and her arms around me, but awareness of her and everything else fades away. It’s just me and the broken memories ripping me apart.

Fucking wrecking me.

Felicia returns from her afternoon class, finding me where she left me. In bed. Once the door shuts, I uncover my head. I swallow the pain relievers and empty the bottle of water she left on the nightstand. I carefully readjust and position the fresh ice pack under my hip. The cold soothes the feverish skin.

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