Page 57 of Jessica's Hero
Then I see it sticking out of the bear’s belly—a razor, stained red with blood.
My blood.
My brain stalls in confusion.
What?
Why?
At first, I’m certain it’s a mistake. A mixup at the store. At whatever factory makes these bears. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
But.
Beneath the bear, there’s something else.
Photos.
Even though the logical side of my brain is screaming at me to leave them alone, I reach for them, anyway. It’s a compulsion. Ihaveto know.
Then I recognize the photos and wish I hadn’t.
They’re terrible. Gruesome. And all too familiar.
A low keening sound makes its way up my throat as I look at the pictures in horror.
The first is of a car with the front all crushed in. The windshield is shattered and splashed with red. A branch sticks through a jagged hole, right where the driver would sit.
Then the next is a body bag, zipped up, with a body in it. Of someone I know, even though I can’t see inside.
And the third photo is one I’m closely acquainted with. Liam’s senior portrait; the one they displayed in the newspaper after the accident. The portrait shown at his wake, right beside his closed casket.
A drop of blood hits the second photo, reminding me I’m bleeding. That same rational part of my brain says,Back away. Don’t touch anything else. Don’t let your blood get on it. Get out of the office and call the police. Call Kane.
But I can’t move. Can’t breathe.
A dull chattering noise filters through the rushing sound in my head, but it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s coming from my teeth. From the shaking I can’t seem to control.
“Oh, Jess. You got another present.” A pleased voice comes from the doorway. Even in my shock, I know who it is. Marie. One of the nicer med techs. Sometimes we have lunch together in the staff lounge, though we’ve never made plans to do anything beyond that.
“Jess?” Her tone shifts to one of worry. “Are you okay? What’s—” Then she gasps. Clutches my arm to the verge of pain.
“I…” But I can’t seem to form more words than that. “I…”
“Come on.” Marie yanks me out of my office. “Get away from that.”
I follow her on numb legs into the hallway. My thoughts are still short-circuiting. Shudders have taken over my body. The pain in my hand is a faint throb; nothing compared to the tearing pain in my heart.
As if it’s coming through a thick pane of glass, I hear Marie calling the police. I know I should say something, should give her more details, but I can’t. The numbness is taking over my body.
I’m not sure how much time goes by before Marie darts into my office and comes back with a wad of tissues.She shoves them in my hand and says, “Hold onto these, Jess. Until we can get your hand cleaned up.”
Then she tows me back down the hallway, the same path I traveled just a few minutes ago, feeling so happy and proud of myself. Feeling solucky. Now I feel like my chest has been carved out, leaving it empty and bleeding.
It hurts.
Not my hand. My heart.
It was just one mistake. I didn’t hurt anyone. I’m not responsible for other people’s actions.
