Page 197 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

The concern turns to worry, turns into fear. I’ve felt this exactly once before: the ground disappearing beneath my feet. She died. Summer won’t.

Watching her mom, I hear Summer’s words on repeat. About caring for her mom. About me liking her if I gave her a chance. About not leaving until she’s ready.

They love each other. It’s a kind of love I don’t know shit about. Instead, I lashed out, and I scared her away. Everything I feared would happen has happened, and whose fault is it?

Mine.

Chapter Seven

Summer

My heart pumps in pace with my legs. I jump over roots, dash through the foliage, dodging trees. I run from him, from myself, from the pain in my chest.

Mom’s never held me back or tried to tell me what I can or can’t do, but he does. He’s not who I thought he was. All the wild, broken men who have passed through my life flick through my mind as fragmented memories. Mom’s lovers. I thought Stephan was different. I knew he was different. I was wrong.

So, so wrong.

I gasp out a sob. Then the next. Soon my every intake of air is a cry of pain. When my legs give out, and I can’t take another step, I curl up on the sunny side of a thick tree trunk. Not a lot of light reaches ground level, but the south-west side is slightly warmer. My feet sting, and when I study them, they’re bloody from a million little cuts.

I hug myself and rest my cheek against the tree. Listening to the breeze, the leaves, and all the little pitter-patter of the forest animals, my eyelids get heavier, and my mind calmer.

I jerk awake. It’s dark, and I’m numbingly cold. I didn’t intend to spend the night in the forest, far away from civilization. That was stupid. That was really stupid. I should’ve just hopped on my bike and gone home.

No, because he would have caught you in an instant.

My heart stutters when I realize I’m not alone. Something warm, something alive rests against my back, and a rank stench surrounds me, a smell of wilderness, of animal. I don’t dare to move, and I’m not even sure I breathe. I lie awake a long time, wondering if it’ll eat me when it wakes up. It’s not large enough to be a bear, maybe it’s a bobcat, possibly a wolf, but less likely. In either case, it helps me keep the worst of the chill at bay.

When I wake again, I’m alone. There are a few gray hairs along my side, contrasting with the deep purple sweater. A wolf, then. They don’t typically attack a grown person. Maybe it thought I was a pup? Maybe it felt how cold and lonely I was.

Am.

I shiver, and it’s not only the cold.

I’ve been touched by an angel. Something watched over me tonight.

It’s wondrous, but so is a flower growing out of a tiny seed, ethereal mist hovering in the air over a swamp. So is…

Love.

It’s the things I can’t touch that get to me, that make my head spin. I like simplicity. I need to be rooted. Who understands these things? Love. Death. Life. I think most people just say they do.

I pat the ground beneath me, then the tree.

“Thank you.” I say it to my tree. I say it to the wolf and to all living things.

Standing on stiff legs, I take in the gray surroundings. The sun isn’t up yet but has already brightened the sky. The tree crowns are so massive that very little light filters through, but it gives me a sense of direction, and I take off. I walk for hours on an empty stomach. With my naked feet against the dewy moss, I can’t seem to get warm no matter how fast I move. All in all, I’m miserable, and that’s only the physical pain.

Knowing what I must do when I get home hurts more.

The town hasn’t woken yet, and when I imagine what I look like, jogging barefoot on the sidewalk, I’m grateful for that. I am filled with emotion; hurt and exhilaration; longing for him; and an absolute fear that he’ll take me away despite my protests.

“Mom!” I shout, my voice so hoarse it’s no more than a rasp. I run through the apartment and find her sleeping. Her mouth is open, and she snores lightly. I dart to her side and shake her until she mumbles that she’s awake.

“Sit up. Open your eyes.”

She groans but does what I say. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“We have to go. We really have to go, Mom. Pack your things, the necessities. I want us to be out of here within an hour.”

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