Page 14 of Wait For It

Her confession had sent an arc of unfamiliar longing coursing through my veins before it set up camp between my legs. It was similar to the sensation I got when Pepper jumped over obstacles, but I was never left with the urge to nuzzle her neck afterward.

We’d stayed up half the night as she told me of the other things she’d experienced, but her first kiss was what I remembered most. As wrong as it had been, I’d wanted to be held by a man just as she’d described it.

But not just any man.

A pleasant shiver had moved down my spine as I crept back to my own bedroom, and I made a promise to myself that when my turn came, I was going to find the blue-eyed boy and kiss him.

What I wanted hadn’t mattered in the end.

Like the old saying,‘The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry,’some things are just doomed to fail.

I didn’t know it at the time, but within a matter of weeks, Ashlynn would be gone forever. The church would vote to end theUrban Missionproject, and my eighteenth birthday would pass just like every other day before it. I would stay within the same four walls I’d known my entire life, fantasizing about what it would be like to live somewhere else, to be free to make my own choices.

Something must have happened to turn my fantasy into reality. Some catalyst that left me with no other choice.

Why else would I have tried to escape?

I knew as well as anyone how it had ended for my sister.

I snapped out of my thoughts and frowned down at the notebook filled with scribbles. I’d writtenhospitalfive times with the year sketched out to the side in block letters. Beneath that were strange symbols and obscure words that appeared to be a newly discovered form of cursive. My brain must have decided to solve a mystery without my help because decoding the jargon proved impossible.

“Ariana, do you understand what I’m telling you?” Dr. McEvans moved into my line of sight.

I traced what appeared to be an arrow on the page with my index finger before nodding. While I preferred her brusque assessment over the sugarcoated version I’d gotten from other doctors, I didn’t think it was necessary to detail my injuries every time she made her rounds.

I knew.

My head and chest gave not so subtle reminders every time I was forced to get out of bed. There was a cruel sense of irony in spending your entire life wanting to escape only to succeed with no memory of how you’d done it.

Somehow mistaking my nod as a sign of confusion, she elaborated. “With your trach gone, you should find it easier to produce sounds. And now that the bone flap has been replaced, we believe that you’re medically stable enough to transfer to a rehab facility.”

No.

I preferred to stay right here, with the nurses I knew and trusted until I remembered everything.

Thank you very much.

Dr. McEvans pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. “I understand with everything you’ve been through, change can be hard, but we talked aboutTrue North. It’s one of the best places for you to be. They can provide a level of rehabilitative care we can’t.”

But the nurses here knew me and took the time to style my long hair. Each braid was different, but all managed to disguise the scar that ran down the middle of my scalp and around to my right ear. Even the slight depression in my temple area wasn’t as noticeable.

I’d been ignored most of my life, and I wasn’t exactly comfortable with being noticed now just because my scars were finally visible. I didn’t want it to be the only thing people saw when they looked at me.

I was not an object to be pitied.

“Hey, I got here just as fast as I could,” Tristan panted from the doorway. “Thought y’all were gonna kick her out before I made it.”

Dr. McEvans stood up and offered her chair to him with wide eyes. “Pastor James, I am so honored. Truly. I was just explaining again to Ariana that we’re going to be transferring her…” She paused and blinked a couple of times as if trying to recall where it was they were sending me.

It’s True North, I mouthed.

Now who has the brain injury?

He crossed the room to where she stood and placed a hand on her shoulder before flashing his megawatt smile. “Belinda McEvans, the honor is all mine. I cannot thank you enough for all that you’ve done for my little girl.”

I fought a cringe at the term of endearment, wondering why he seemed so giddy.

“You—you know who I am?”

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