Rage to Live Read online

  “That sounds admirable.” I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. For now the plan was to take each day as it came, hoping I survived one day to the next.

  “Will doesn’t drink either. It’s because of our mom. She’s a recovering alcoholic. I also want to help people like her get their lives back on track.”

  Whoa. Some heavy stuff. But why would she tell me all this? So I would be more comfortable around her? Or did she hope I’d tell her some dark secret about myself?

  I would never know, because just then Matilda called my cell.

  “I have to take this.” I rose to my feet.

  “Go ahead.” Arielle sat up. “Then I’ll convince you to come back with me to the AGP house and hang out. We’ll probably order some type of takeout.”

  Why me? It was on the tip of my tongue to ask. Instead I walked a short distance away to answer the phone. Arielle remained sitting while she drank her water.

  “Hey, Tilda, sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ve been busy,” I said, somewhat guilty for ignoring my best friend. She had called and texted a few times last week, but I hadn’t responded.

  I expected her to rip into me, but she whispered my name on a long shuddering exhale. My pulse lifted, and a sharp ring chimed in my ear.

  “Something’s wrong.” I moved behind the tree, out of Arielle’s sight.

  “I saw Larissa.”

  I didn’t want to have this type of conversation and definitely not with Larissa as the main topic. But it must have been important if Matilda brought her up.

  “Sh-she’s not a-at college?” After the night of the graduation party, I had blocked Larissa out. She had supported Byron, which wasn’t surprising. The last time I saw her was after I’d come home from the hospital after my failed suicide attempt. That meeting hadn’t gone well at all. Matilda had witnessed my meltdown, protecting me from harming myself or Larissa. I hadn’t heard from her since then. I pretended she didn’t exist to help me move on.

  “Looks like she isn’t, but I didn’t ask her. Promise me you won’t freak out if I tell you something?” There was a slight wobble to her voice, a hesitation that made my stomach churn.

  “It must be important if you need to tell me.” I twined a lock of my hair around my finger and yanked hard.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me and not find out from someone else.”

  “Why would I find out from someone else? Did something happen to her?” The fluttering in my stomach increased.

  “Not her directly, but when a prominent judge’s son ends up in the hospital because of alcohol poisoning, it’s big news. Plus, it might not have been an accident.” Her breath exploded in my ear. “He might have done it on purpose.”

  What? Dizzy, I turned, dropping my forehead on the tree and closing my eyes. The rough bark jabbed my face, but I didn’t care. I was trying not to hyperventilate or pass out.

  “Charlotte?” Matilda’s worried tone broke through the rushing in my ears.

  I dug my fingers into the bark. “What’s the truth?” I gasped, a shrill whisper escaping the confines of my mouth.

  Matilda was oblivious to my growing hysteria. She must have been satisfied by my question, because she sounded steady again, stable as always—unlike me.

  “He almost flunked out his freshman year at Texas A&M and may have blown any chance at major league baseball. He may have lost his scholarship also.” A clicking came over the line, like tapping. “She caught me outside my house when I was leaving for school one morning.”

  “She came to your house? She knows where you live?”

  “Yeah, talk about one hell of a surprise. She was really shaken up. The reason she stopped by is she wanted me to give you a message since you won’t talk to her.”

  “She knows the reason we can’t talk or see each other.” I gritted my teeth as the dizziness overwhelmed me even with my eyes closed.

  “That’s why she’s going through me to get to you,” Matilda huffed. “The reason I’m telling you is because I don’t want her to suddenly show up at your new place and make you have a meltdown.”

  Too late. I rolled my forehead on the tree as a full-blown migraine pounded my head. The wind tunnel in my ears wouldn’t stop. My stomach twisted, and bile climbed up my throat.

  “What’s her message?” I asked, my lips now rubbery and numb.

  “She’s afraid Byron is going to harm himself again, and she thinks the way he’ll get better is if you see him and forgive him.”

  Boom!

  A loud siren screeched. Matilda yelled my name through the phone. It wasn’t a siren, but me laughing. I stumbled away from the tree and collapsed, throwing my cell on the ground and rocking. Something touched my back, and I swung my arm out. Arielle knelt down next to me, asking what was wrong. I thrust her away and fell over my knees, tears wetting my cheeks as a black curtain blocked out the world.

  Chapter EIGHT

  MY TONGUE stuck to the top of my mouth, and fire ripped open my throat. It was the first thing I noticed when I woke up. The second was the sound of beeping and the smell of disinfectant in the air. Lifting my hand to my face, I found a plastic tube in my nose. Blinking back my grogginess, I focused on the panel ceiling above me, wincing as I inhaled. My stomach rumbled, and I moaned.

  “I’m gonna puke.” I rolled to my side, and a bedpan appeared. Grabbing it, I coughed into it, nasty chunks and foul-smelling fluid shooting out of my mouth. A hand that didn’t belong to me brushed back my hair, circling over my head.

  “Let it all out.” Aunt Eloise’s voice joined the sound of my purging. When I didn’t have anything left inside me to expel, I shoved the bedpan away and wiped my mouth with my arm.

  “Here, wash your mouth.” She helped me sit up and held a cup to my mouth. I took a large sip and then spit it out in the pan. As she got rid of the pan, I lay back down, taking the tube out of my nostrils. Snot coated my nose. Again, I used my arm to wipe, not caring if I made a mess.

  Aunt Eloise came back and sat in a chair next to my bed. She gave me a weak smile, but I couldn’t find the energy to smile back.

  “Does Dad know I’m here?” It tasted like something had died in my mouth.

  “Not yet. I was waiting for you to wake up,” she said in a hushed tone that made me nervous.

  “If you tell him, he’ll make me stay in the same type of place as the last time, so I can get better.” My vision blurred with tears. I had been doing so well.

  Aunt Eloise set her hand on my arm and rubbed. “This time is different from the last. You had a panic attack.”

  I snorted. “It was more than a panic attack. I had a full-blown meltdown.”

  She didn’t avert her eyes like Dad did when he talked to me, especially both times I’d ended up in the hospital. She didn’t wear the anguish and remorse like he did. It helped a little, but not knowing what would happen to me now scared me. I didn’t want her to reject me like Dad had.

  “You passed out from the heat, that’s all,” she said in a strong voice.

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Arielle saw me freak out, along with anyone else nearby.” I rubbed my eyes. “She probably thinks I’m certifiable.”

  “Certifiable?”

  “Batshit crazy.”

  Aunt Eloise wound her fingers around mine. “Arielle called 9-1-1, and she rode in the ambulance with you, staying here until your uncle and I came. She didn’t want to leave until she made sure you were okay.”

  “Oh.” I winced and tried sitting up, but my bones were mush. Arielle had seen me at my absolute worst. Great. “Is she still here?”

  “She left a little over an hour ago with Tris and Jo.” Aunt Eloise reached under the bed and clicked something to make it rise.

  “I’ve made another lasting impression. Wonderful.” Stupid tears sprung into my eyes. Everyone at Maison, and probably the entire town, would now know me as the basket case.

  Aunt Eloise brushed her fingers through my hair. “Calm down.
I don’t want you to have another attack. Want me to ask the nurse for another sedative for you?”

  “I don’t need a damn sedative or any of those stupid meds that make me feel loopy and tired all the time.” I knocked aside her hand and closed my eyes. Whatever the doctor or nurse had injected me with hadn’t helped. I was nauseous, dizzy, and my body felt glued to the bed, exactly like my first time in the hospital after the rape.

  “I hate being this vulnerable!” My roar came out a whimper as a spasm hit my gut. “I’m going to be sick again. What the hell did they give me?”

  Aunt Eloise set the bedpan near my head as I rolled onto my side. I took in deep gulps of air, hoping it would settle my stomach. I could smack myself for my stupidity and for passing out.

  “You aren’t the first to pass out from the heat,” Aunt Eloise said in a soothing tone. “I remember—”

  “I didn’t pass out from the heat.” I rubbed my face in the pillow, inhaling its bleached scent. “I had a bad reaction to a phone call. I started hyperventilating, and because I didn’t have my meds to calm me down, I passed out.”

  I looked at Aunt Eloise through one eye. She lowered the bedpan. Puzzlement traveled over her face. “Do you want to tell me why you don’t carry your antianxiety medication on you, and why a phone call made you faint?”

  What choice did I have? She wouldn’t let it drop unless I told her something. It was bad enough she would tell Dad, unless I begged her not to. She would be the third person I’d ever begged for something, or for them to stop. The other two times had been in vain. My track record was piss-poor, so why not add a third to the mix?

  I didn’t care if I blew chunks all over myself, but I wouldn’t talk lying down, pathetic as I cowered clutching a pillow. Pressing my lips together, I sat up. This time Aunt Eloise didn’t help me. She sat, waiting.

  “I didn’t have the antianxiety meds on me because I don’t take them. I stopped after I came home from the hospital the second time.” My memory of that period in my life was a total blur, a month of my time I’d lost and wouldn’t get back. But the feelings of despair and grief had stayed with me long after. No amount of drugs would make that disappear. “Even if I took the pills, it wouldn’t have helped, because I was so far gone by then.”

  “From the phone call.” Her tone beckoned for me to continue.

  I pressed the pad of my thumb on the scar on the inside of my wrist, a reminder of my ultimate failing. “My best friend Matilda called me. My… rapist may have tried to kill himself. His sister, who I was once friends with, wants me to see him.” I curled my fingers around my wrist. “She wants me to forgive him for what he did so he won’t hurt himself again.”

  Aunt Eloise steepled her fingers in front of her mouth. If she was surprised, I couldn’t see it. She was good at hiding her emotions unless she wanted people to notice them. Something both she and Dad shared.

  “What are you going to do?”

  That wasn’t the question I had been expecting. My stomach rolled again, and my breath lodged in my throat. “I don’t understand. What am I going to…? You can’t mean….” I jabbed my nails into the back of my hand and shook my head to dislodge the thumping pulse in my ears.

  “Forgiveness is one of the hardest things you can give to someone who has hurt you,” Aunt Eloise said with tranquility, the opposite of what I felt.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m ever going to forgive him or her!” I shouted, dragging my fingers through my hair and tugging. The tightness in my throat made it hard to catch my breath.

  Aunt Eloise left her chair and sat down next to me, clutching my head to her chest and rocking me in her arms. I wrapped my arms around her and gulped in air. I couldn’t have another breakdown.

  Eventually my heart stopped racing, and my breathing returned to normal. My eyes and throat stung like a bitch, but that was minor considering my other reactions.

  “Has anyone done something so horrible to you that you couldn’t forgive them?” Moving to rest my head on her shoulder, I kept my arms locked around her.

  She set her cheek on top of my head. It was a subtle movement, but she jerked, her back stiffening. Either she wasn’t as collected as I thought she was, or she was going to tell me something she didn’t want to.

  “Once there was someone. It took me years to forgive what he did to me.”

  Her voice wasn’t as steady and strong as it had been seconds ago. It made me hug her tighter, knowing she was going to tell me something very private.

  “Who’s he? Uncle Abe?”

  She made a garbled snort. “Not Abe. When I was ten, and he was—” She swallowed so hard that I heard the clicking in her throat. “—much older.”

  “An older boy?” The scratchiness in my throat made it difficult for me to talk. Or it could have been the lump in my throat.

  “He wasn’t a boy. He was a man.” She ran her fingers over my hair, a tender touch that made me want to close my eyes. I did just that.

  “He was our next-door neighbor, and the pastor of my church.” She sniffed. “He started molesting me when I was ten and didn’t stop until I was twelve.”

  I flinched and drew back, finally looking at her. She stared ahead, her face pale and withdrawn. She kept swiping her hand over my hair.

  “Why did he stop?” I couldn’t even comprehend what she’d gone through at such a young age. She had lost her innocence way before I had.

  “He got another girl pregnant. She was thirteen. I was one of many—” Again her throat clicked as she swallowed. “—girls he targeted. I told my parents what he’d done to me after I found out about the pregnant girl. They believed me. Local law enforcement did also. Ten girls, including myself, testified against him at his trial. He’s in jail for life.”

  I licked my lips even though my tongue was dry and rough. My eyes stung from unshed tears. Aunt Eloise’s eyes were red and damp, but she didn’t cry either. I wished her personal story helped me, but it didn’t. I felt even worse, with a horrible sensation in my gut that wouldn’t go away.

  She wiped under her eyes, and her lips trembled, but she didn’t smile. “Now do you understand why your father sent you to me to finish your final year of high school?”

  I nodded, thinking back to his reaction after he found out I was assaulted. My memory of that night was fuzzy, but I remembered him throwing a chair across the hospital room, picking it up again, and then sobbing into his hands.

  “Does Uncle Abe know what happened to you?” My uncle was an affectionate man. He always hugged Aunt Eloise or kissed her. How could she bear to be touched in such a way after her violation, especially at such a young age?

  “He’s known from the beginning. The girls and Paul know.”

  “Wow.” Lame response, but what else could I say?

  She cupped my cheek, her palm warm and soft. The desolation I’d seen in her eyes had left, and sympathy took its place. “Sunday nights I attend a rape support group at the family crisis center. Tris usually goes with me. You should come to the meetings with me, especially if you’re not going to therapy, which I think is a bad idea.” She kissed my forehead. “I went to therapy until college. It helped me a lot.”

  “Why did you stop in college?” Therapy wouldn’t help me. Talking to a stranger about my assault and how it made me feel, including the aftermath, wouldn’t help me heal.

  Aunt Eloise did smile then. “I met your uncle.”

  Ah, the love and understanding of a good man was the final step in her healing process. Unfortunately for me, that would never happen.

  My fingers had stiffened from holding Aunt Eloise. I let her go, flexing my fingers and wiping my palms on the sheet. Her shirt was wrinkled with damp stains from my hands. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find the words. “Sorry” never made me feel better. Me saying it wouldn’t change my aunt’s past or take away her pain.

  She tucked my hair behind my ears and stood. “You should have something else to drink besides water. Also food.
Does that sound okay?”

  I didn’t have an appetite, but my throat burned, so something more substantial to drink would hit the spot. “Sure.” She wouldn’t push me to eat, but I would try just because she wanted me to. It was the least I could do after scaring her, and for revealing the dark secret.

  “Great.” She brushed her hand over my hair again and patted my back.

  As she turned to leave, I grasped her hand. “You said you forgave your… rapist. How long did it take for you to forgive him?”

  “Longer than it should have. But I did.” She squeezed my hand hard. “I told him to his face behind a plastic window at the prison he’s still in.”

  My hand hung limp in hers. “What did he say or do when you told him?”

  She darted her gaze to the floor. “He cried. But he didn’t say sorry or take responsibility in return. I didn’t expect him to.”

  “You’re a brave woman,” I said as strongly as I could with my wounded throat.

  The smile she returned seemed forced. She left after giving my hand another squeeze, but her floral perfume remained.

  Chapter NINE

  DUSTY HARDCOVERS and textbooks, probably dating back to the twentieth century, sat side by side on the metal stacks in the school library. I had come in here after my economics class to start research on my paper, due in a month. I didn’t mind writing papers, but it had been so long since I’d done one, especially about income distribution. Oh, so exciting.

  Writing something mundane like a paper would help me get back on track and concentrate on something else. It would dull my overactive mind and hopefully exhaust me enough to sleep. Ever since I’d passed out at the fair over a week ago, I barely got four hours of sleep a night. At least I wasn’t waking up screaming the way I used to. Jo didn’t have any idea. She was dead to the world while she slept, no nightmares chasing her.

  Unable to find an encyclopedia from this decade, I leaned against a column in a huff. I would have to go to the town library or spend hours on the internet finding the information I needed. I could ask Jo for her laptop, but she was attached to the thing because she had a bad social media addiction. I could also use the desktop at home, but it was near the living room, close enough for me to hear the television or the video games Beau loved playing. With my concentration shot to hell, finding a quiet space to study was key.