Page 12 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

“Now,” Mia said and got to her feet. One by one, she handed us what I saw was a journal and a pen attached to it. “As well as sessions with us, we will have a group session each day. These will be focused on anything from techniques to help you deal with feelings, or an open space for us to talk and answer any questions you may have. Or, of course, if you ever want to share your story with everyone else here.” She held up a spare journal. “But one thing we require as a must is for you to start keeping a journal.”

Mia sat back down, the flames from the large open fire casting shadows across her face. “These journals will be for your eyes only and can be used in several ways.” The journal lay in my lap like it was laced with poison oak. “You could write about your time here—the experiences you have. The sights you see.”

“It could be a place for you to write your feelings. Help you process your grief as we work our way through it,” Leo tacked on. “It could be a place for poetry, if you so wish. If you draw, it could be where you sketch out whatever inspires you.”

“Or, something we have found has worked exceptionally well for previous groups,” Mia said, “is the journal could be where you get to express whatever you didn’t get to say to the one or ones you have lost.” The mood in the room went from neutral to downright clogging. Mia seemed to feel this, and her voice grew gentler. “We know, for many of you, you didn’t get closure.” An invisible hand gripped on to the front of my throat and began to squeeze. “You didn’t get to say goodbye.” She gave that sentence a moment to breathe, which was the last thing I needed. “When that happens, there are lots of things left unsaid.” I shifted on the couch and felt people’s eyes fix on me. Or maybe they didn’t. I just felt like I was under a huge friggin’ spotlight. I forced myself to still, feeling that hand around my neck squeeze tighter and tighter as unwanted images of that night began flashing through my head. The loud screeching of tires, the sound of metal crunching … thesmell of blood—so much blood—the horn … the continuous, never-ending sound of the horn …

“And for others, it may be somewhere you tell your loved one how you’re feeling, how life without them has been. Your dreams and fears. Your aspirations and your apprehensions. Everything and anything you want. No one will be reading them but you. These are for your eyes only,” Leo said.

“You could use it as a place to talk to them again, no matter how trivial. Like a conversation,” Mia said. My eyes began flickering around the room. Most of the others were nodding, seeming to readily accept our task. I wanted to get up and leave, my hands itching and my feet bouncing on the floor. I wanted to catch the first flight back to the States and get the hell out of this place and away from this group.

But then I caught sight of Savannah.

She was clutching the journal in her hands, her knuckles turning bone white. She wasn’t nodding in agreement. She didn’t seem sold on the idea like everyone else. Instead, she was staring at the plain blue color of the journal with such a devastated expression that I felt my stomach drop. Her breathing had grown quicker, and I was sure she was about to fall headfirst into another anxiety attack.

So, I watched her, just to make sure she didn’t slip. And I began to wonder who had left her life and ripped it wide open. Had it been an illness that her loved one had had, or was their death quick and unexpected? Was it the other person’s choice, like it had been—

“It’s not happening,” I suddenly bellowed, my harsh voice filling up the room. Those thoughts … I’d hit my limit. Couldn’t take thinking of it anymore. I waved my journal in the air. “This is useless. And I have nothing to say tohimanyway.”

“We understand you think that way, Cael, we do,” Leo said. I looked around the room, needing to find a way out of here. I felt caged. Trapped. I needed toleave.

“But we want you to hold on to it. Our hope is that, after some time with us, on this trip, you may feel differently. Maybe learn to open up. To explore your feelings.”

I scoffed a laugh, then got up and walked to the fire. I threw the journalstraight into the roaring hearth. “That’swhat I think of the journal,” I said, feeling deep satisfaction at watching the blank pages begin to burn. “I’m not writing in it. What’s the point? What’s the point inanyof this? He’s dead, and he’s not coming back.”

There was total silence in the room, but my inner rebellion cheered me on. I would never talk to Cill again. Not in any form. Especially not in some journal where the entries to our lost ones were nothing more than a pathetic fantasy, a way to trick us into feeling better.

The crackling of the burning logs sounded like a thousand thunderbolts crashing as it devoured every inch of the journal. It felt like hours as I watched it. Then, I looked up and caught Savannah’s gaze. Her face wore an expression of shock, but there was also something else … Understanding? Sympathy? I didn’t know. But I didn’t like how it made my chest ache, made my heart beat in double time. I didn’t like how her big blue eyes were locked on me like she could see right through me.

I couldn’t stand being in this room. I turned to walk away, to get the hell out, when Leo stood in my path. “Please, Cael,” he said. I stared at the door. It was my escape to freedom, to get away from this woeful attempt at healing us. I felt the others’ eyes fixed on me. How were they just sitting there accepting this? How did theywantthis?

Leo took a step closer. “Cael, please sit down.” His voice was firmer now.

I fought with the need to disobey, but when I found myself looking over my shoulder at Savannah again, the expression of worry on her face made guilt or something like it run through me. Did she want me to leave or stay? Did she understand why I didn’t want to be here? Was she scared of me? My stomach pulled tightly at that thought.

I didn’t want her to be afraid of me.

I turned to face Leo. His hands were held up like he was handling a rabid dog. “We’re just going to talk about the trip now and what we’ll be doing. That’s all.” I smelled the journal burning in the fire, the paper singeing. It comforted me.

I turned back to Savannah again. Her eyes were filled with tears. It friggin’ cut me. She met my gaze and then looked at the journal I’d thrown in the fire. I didn’t know what she was thinking. Did she think what I’d done was wrong?

“Cael?” Leo pushed.

“Whatever,” I said, then sat back down. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t leave. I decided not to think about it too much. Leo sat back down too, and I stared at that journal melting and merging with the burning logs. It reminded me of my now-ruined heart. That had burned to ashes too.

Mia’s soft but steady voice cut through the weighted silence that followed my outburst. “Tomorrow, we climb.” I blinked, turning my attention away from the hearth. I’d zoned out without realizing it. I felt the soft, velvety material of the couch brush under my palm, and the sound of Travis blowing his nose beside me hurtled me back to the here and now. When I looked over to him, his glasses were resting on the top of his head, and he was wiping at his eyes. He looked over at me too, and I saw the raw pain he was harboring glaring back at me.

Had I done that? Had my outburst done this? Or was it the idea of writing in the journal?

As I looked around the group, there wasn’t one person spared. The way they all clutched the journals, it had to be that. The thought of the person you lost … expressing how it felt to miss them … it was brutal.

Losing someone you loved—the club no one ever wanted to be in, but one we would all be forced to join at some point in our lives. No one would escape it. It was simply a matter of when.

I found myself nodding at Travis, a subtle nudge of support, and he gave a small self-deprecating smile in return. I found myself wanting to know his story too.

One thing was for sure—we were all completely messed up.

“The Lake District is known for many things,” Leo said, moving past how troubled we had all become. “Mountain climbing and walking being two of the most popular. And that’s why we’re here,” he said and inched forward in his seat. “We’re going to climb. We’re going to walk. And we’re going to explore this beautiful landscape on foot. Three of the region’s biggest peaks.”

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