Page 22 of The Daredevil

“We’re good, sweetie. I’m happy you’re settling fine. I’m calling to let you know we got invited to a big pageant gala this spring. All the winners and their families are invited to attend. We’ll need to get a gown—”

“I’m not going.”

God must have been testing me today because he kept throwing darts my way to see how I would dodge them. I didn’t do too well because a sharp pain stabbed my body. First, it was Fiona, and now my mom.

Mom had no idea what I had gone through. I tried telling her I hated doing the beauty pageants, but she didn’t understand. It was the reason I had developed a poor image of myself. In my eyes, the beauty pageant industry exploited children and sexualized them. I remembered wearing these tight outfits, making me look like a Las Vegas showgirl. Children shouldn’t look like adults with all that makeup. I never understood why that exploitation was considered beautiful.

I hated myself back then and did something that changed my life . . .

“Aren’t you excited, sweetheart?” Mom and I are in line for our first whitewater rafting experience.

I should be excited, but the dark clouds of self-pity and pain grip me. Mom knows I enjoy the outdoors, and this trip is to celebrate my acceptance to Boston University. Needing a change, I’d dyed my hair red, which Mom didn’t like.

“I am.” A tiny part of me is happy to spend time with her, but the rest of me can’t find the energy to smile. The depression has dimmed everything in my life, and I don’t want to ruin this trip for my mom.

“After this, we can get our spa treatments, so your skin is perfect for next week’s banquet. There are modeling and talent agencies in attendance. You’re beautiful, and you’ll get signed with someone in no time. We should dye your hair back to its natural brown, maybe add some highlights.”

My mom wants me to be someone I don’t want to be. She forgets that my education is important, and modeling and pageants take time away from my studies. Sometimes I feel like she’s having a conversation with herself because she obviously doesn’t hear me, so I’ve trained myself to only half-listen to her words.

I create a filter to protect myself.

I stare at the powerful water flowing down the river.Water is gentle but dangerously powerful, like the rapids formed from turbulent currents. Can they drown my pain and the expectations of people around me? I’m tired of doing things to make other people happy.

I’m not happy.

What is happiness? I’ve forgotten. Does anyone care about my needs?

At the moment, all I hear is the rushing of water. The chatter from the surrounding people blends into the sounds of nature. Mom talks to a couple who are our raft companions. There are six of us, including the guide. I block out their conversation. The guide reminds us about something, but I don’t listen.

I feel detached from the world—a world that has become dark and miserable. As I look at the woods and river, I want to join them. A sense of defiance stirs in me. I’m sick of feeling trapped. I must break free.

I don’t want to be a model or an actress. I don’t want people piling layers of makeup on me until I don’t even recognize myself. The spotlight burns my face. The way men look at me makes me feel cheap and dirty.

I hate my life. There’s no purpose for me.

I have no recollection of getting into the raft, sitting with my paddle in hand. Mom is next to me, adjusting her lifejacket. The guide is at the back, giving directions. Two rafts already went down the river, the people waving back at us. Behind us, paddlers situate themselves into two more rafts.

We move down the river and paddle as instructed. Laughter booms from the raft in front of us, and water splashes everywhere, but I don’t pay attention.

Our raft hits something, and we ride with the current. The trees blur around me. The water is so powerful, pushing us side to side, and the raft hits a rock, shaking me from my seat. I drop my paddle and grip the handle to stabilize myself. My mom and the other rafters cheer as the raft slams into a rock.

Another bump tosses me overboard. The currents push me away from the raft, and I hear my mom crying for me. I could swim, but it would be hard against the powerful rapids. Do I wantto swim to safety? Do I want to go back to that life?

No. I want my life to end. I want the water to take me with it, so I let everything go.

A sense of freedom overcomes me.

“Shit!”

“Someone help her!”

The voices are drowned by the water splashing into my face, getting into my mouth, ears, and nose.

I’m underwater. It’s so cold . . . and peaceful . . . and free. A sense of relief overwhelms me as water fills my lungs. My body goes lax, my brain turns foggy . . .

Something yanks me out of the water, and I’m too cold to move. Am I dead? Hands push at my chest and touch my face, my mouth. I choke and cough out water, and I blink. A silhouette hovers above me. The bright sun behind the person makes it hard for me to see who it is.

Is it God? I must be in heaven.

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