Page 19 of Fall for Me

Shit.

There was a long pause, during which I was flooded with shame. Awash with it. Cass had done nothing but help me. Doted on me, even.

“Okay,” she said softly. Then her shadow disappeared from under the door.

I slumped onto the toilet and allowed myself the indulgence of hot, angry tears. I rested my elbows on my knees and kept my hands over my mouth, muffling my sobs.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t pretend things were going to be fine.

Outside, I heard Jude speak low with the others. Then presumably he left with poor traumatized Jack. I heard Cass directing the others to pack all the flowers in boxes. I took in a breath, breathing in the antiseptic scent of the cleaner. This was pathetic, hiding in the bathroom. I was thrown back to being a little girl—when things got too loud, I used to hide in my closet in my room, my legs curled up against my chest. Sometimes I’d go outside to the trees behind our apartment. Years later—right up until the accident a few days ago—I’d hide in the cacophony of bars and nightclubs, liquid courage letting me pretend I was gregarious. Normal. Not terrified of the world. Getting out there, like everyone told me I was supposed to do.

But I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I wasn’t that Chelsea anymore either.

Everyone underestimates quiet people.

That was Seamus’s voice.

They think they’re scared.

Newsflash, Seamus, I am scared.

The voices outside grew louder—I picked out Eli and Dad.

I pressed myself up against the back wall of the bathroom. It was surprisingly big for a hospital ensuite, and there was even a window in it. Unusual, one of the nurses had told me yesterday, while trying unsuccessfully to make small talk with me. I’d smiled politely while she tutted around the room and let out a breath after she left. Now I was glad for this window; I turned, desperately, toward it, wishing I could climb out and run away. But we were up on the fourth floor. It looked out over the parking lot, and to the trees beyond; a plain view as far as views in Quince Valley went. If I could open my window and stick my head outside, I’d be able to see the river, to my left. Maybe. Or maybe just the backs of the rest of the buildings on this strip of downtown. But I couldn’t open the window—I tried. It was sealed tight. I couldn’t escape here. I couldn’t even walk out the door of this hospital room on my own, either.

I was stuck.

I turned, taking a bracing breath. I just needed to go back outside to face the world. But just as I did, there was a scrabbling sound behind me.

A little brown bird had landed on the ledge on the other side of the glass. My heart, as small and fluttery as the little creature outside, jumped into my throat. I kneeled next to the sill. It was late afternoon and through the pane I heard the thrum of traffic on Arbutus Street, the main street downtown, where the hospital was situated. If you followed Arbutus, it would take you across the Quince River bridge to the other side of the river, where the Rolling Hills resort was situated. Behind that were the staff apartments, where Cass, Eli, and I lived. It was all so close and yet so far.

A car horn sounded, then a new rush of cars. People were getting off work, thinking about supper for their kids and their hard days at the office. Just going home to their normal lives.

The little bird—what was it, a sparrow? A wren? Just stood there on its tiny legs, not caring that it wasn’t something more flashy or beautiful. Not caring that it was perched on something so small and mundane as the brick wall of a hospital.

“You’re a sign, aren’t you?” I asked, touching my finger to the cool windowpane. Mom used to tell me when I was little that when something was troubling me and I didn’t want to talk about it, I could look for a sign—a little hint that the world existed outside my problem. Proof that things might just be okay.

In the room, I heard Eli’s voice now. Dad’s strained one. I heard my name. They were asking about me. Cass said my other brother Griffin was already at my apartment, cleaning the place up for me.

“I want to fly away like you,” I said.

The bird cocked its head as if listening to me.

“I want the peace that you know.”

The bird stretched its wings out. Fly away,then, it seemed to say. It lifted off, fluttering out of view.

For the first time today, my heart lifted.

And I knew what to do. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, tapping Mia’s text, and then her name. I wasn’t going to get Mia to take me away to the kinds of distractions we used to do together, but I could get her to take me away from here.

She answered on the second ring. “Oh my god, Chelsea!” In the background, a dog barked, loud like it was trying to get someone’s attention.

“Hey Mia,” I said. “Sorry I haven’t called…”

“It’s fine, god, I’ve just been so worried! Are you… I heard you were…”

“I have some injuries, but I’m mobile.” I cut straight to the chase. “Do you think you could come and get me?”

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