14. Kali

CHAPTER 14

Kali

It was five hours.

197,100 hours. That is how many hours I’ve been alive. I stare at the clock on the dresser until the second hand hits the top of the hour and then roll back over to stare at the yellow wall. 197,101.

Thousands of hours lived, yet my brain is chained to those five. I tried to push past it, to think about the money and the dreams that were so close to coming true, searching for that high. But all I find is darkness and pain.

Dr. Betty explained those five hours are like the wounds on my hands and legs. Wounds on my brain . It’ll take time for them to scab over and turn into scars. A reminder. A memory. But like the scars on our body, they’ll fade—not disappear—and become a faint memory.

That’s when I started wondering if I needed a new doctor. Faint memory, my ass. There will never be a night when I lie in the darkness and not hear those thumps.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I’ve been here for four days. Yesterday was a week since I was found. On top of living in this nightmare, I feel like a burden. I’m sure Amy didn’t sign up to be a nurse, caregiver, cook, and therapist when Dr. Betty and the nurse aren’t around. I’m an adult, yet I can’t even shower on my own because of the bandages. It’s humiliating.

Dr. Betty thinks talking to a friend might cheer me up. Like Pearl . But that takes energy. Energy that I can’t find. Just the thought of talking to Pearl and the questions she’ll have makes my chest tighten.

The door creaks open, and I already know it’s Amy. I glance over my shoulder, and she greets me with that small, unwavering smile. It’s mentally hard for me to get out of bed these days.

“Ready for your shower?”

I shake my head and roll back toward the wall. “I’m not ready to get out of bed yet.” Despite it being eleven in the morning.

“How about I make you a deal? I’ll give you another half hour, but I need you to give me something.”

Bartering? Really? This is my life. I don’t owe her anything.

“What do you want?” I mutter, already feeling the defeat because I need her help.

“I want you to meet Rusty.”

I whip my head around, a surge of energy in the form of panic bubbling out. “I already told you, I’m not going to ride that beast.” I’ve watched him from my window. He towers over Ted, and Ted is not a small man.

She chuckles. “Just meet him.” I narrow my eyes, and she holds up her hands. “That’s it. It’ll do you good to get some fresh air, too.”

Fresh air that smells like death.

I exhale, the weight of despair pressing down on me. And then force the answer out of my lips. “Fine.”

I hate this person living inside me. The real me, the one that isn’t unappreciative or rude, is being swallowed by the darkness. I can’t find the light. Amy has been nothing but kind and encouraging, but I can’t help but be insolent.

An hour later, Amy and I step out the front door. It’s the first time I’ve been outside since I got here. The breeze caresses my face, and as much as I hate to admit it, it feels invigorating. I stop on the top stair, close my eyes, and focus on the sun’s warmth and the cooler breeze swirling around me. If I listen closely, I can hear cows in the distance and birds flying overhead. It’s actually peaceful out here.

I can do this. One step at a time. I open my eyes, catching Amy staring at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as if she had won a silent battle.

“Ready?” she asks softly.

I nod and take the three steps down. I only have to meet him, I keep reminding myself as we approach the bright red barn standing out against the green grass surrounding it.

With hay crunching underfoot, we step through the large door. I’ve been in a barn once. Devon Michaels was a farmer’s kid, and one night after a party, we found a quiet spot in one stall. The smell of horse manure takes me back. One of the many regretful nights I had been searching for the male attention missing in my life.

Shaking off the memory, I follow Amy. I recognize Rusty the second I see him. His powerful red head sticks out of his stall, eyes full of curiosity.

“Hey big guy,” Amy says, producing a carrot out of her overalls and feeding it to him. I stand back in awe of the magnificent creature. He’s larger in person, which I didn’t think could happen. “Rusty,” she says, petting his muzzle, “this is Kali.” She nudges his head in my direction. “Kali, this is Rusty.” She gestures for me to come closer.

It takes me a beat to work up the nerve to move. Not wanting to scare the animal, I take slow, hesitant steps until I’m standing beside her. I hold up my bandaged hands, a silent reminder. Again, I don’t want to scare the beast who could kill me with one stomp. She shakes her head gently and takes my left hand, guiding it to his nose. My heart races triple time.

“Hi,” I whisper, wishing I could feel his coat.

“I’ll be right back,” Amy says. I jerk my head toward her, panic rising. She can’t leave me alone with this giant. “It’ll be okay. I just need to take Cash out to the runner.”

I watch her lead another horse from the barn, leaving me alone with Rusty. A warm puff of air hits my face as his velvety nose nuzzles my cheek, surprising me. I jump back, my speeding heart jumping into my throat.

I am not a carrot, dude.

He lowers his head and then bobs it up and down, as if encouraging me to come closer. That’s what it means, right? I take a hesitant step forward, and he nuzzles my face again. This time I laugh—a sound I haven’t heard in days. His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent.

I lift my left hand and run it over his nose. “I hear you’re supposed to help me,” I say, my voice trembling. He responds by stroking his muzzle against my cheek again. I press my forehead against the bridge of his nose, placing both of my hands on his powerful jaws, and close my eyes. I listen to his breathing, noting how still he’s keeping. For me.

An intense wave of emotion crashes over me, breaking through the numbness I’ve built around my heart. I can’t live in this darkness anymore . My hands shake, but Rusty doesn’t move away. I don’t think I’m strong enough to get through this alone . Tears stream down my face, and I hiccup as I plead, “Please, please help me.”