Page 22 of In Hiding

“Mr. White said you had some sort of episode.”

He hated the sound of concern in her voice. It made him feel weak, as feeble as he’d been all those years ago, but he wasn’t a scrawny kid anymore. He was almost a man. Stronger. Braver. Older. Wiser. But if that was true, why had he cried like a fucking baby when the scalpel sliced through the fish? Why had he almost hurled when the fish guts came spewing out of the incision? Why had he wanted to stuff them back in to try and save a dead animal?

He shook his head.

“I want you to call me William. Will is a kid’s name.”

“If that’s what you want. Please, talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He took a breath to steady himself then opened his eyes. She’d come to stand next to him. “I need to stack this wood.”

She laid a hand on his bicep. “We need to talk.”

Fed up, he finally made eye contact. “Why? So you can tell me what a child I am? He told you everything, I bet. How I couldn’t deal with the dissection, how I almost sliced off my finger, how I held the stupid fish like it was still alive and dying in my hands.”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She stared at him for an agonizing minute, making him feel worse than ever. Like he was some pathetic kid. Like he didn’t understand what was going on. But he did. He knew the dissection triggered him and brought back memories he didn’t want. Like a tidal wave crashing into him, threatening to drown him. Feeling so out of control he wanted to smash his own head against the wall so he didn’t have to relive them.

“Oh, honey.”

The rain grew heavier again, soaking through his hair and rolling down his neck under the collar of his school shirt. He shivered. She reached for him, but he took a step back. “No.”

He hoped the cold rain running down his face hid the hot tears that showed him for the child he was.

“You need to talk about this, William. Maybe not with me, but with someone. We’ll find a counsellor.”

She ignored his headshake to take hold of his arm, but he couldn’t stand the idea of confessing it all to a shrink. They’d think he was mad, or a coward. He’d never talk. She couldn’t make him. He wrenched out of her grip but as he did, she lost her footing on the wet stone step.

She let out a scream as she fell. He reached for her but missed. Time stood still as he watched her tumble down the steps toward the cliff face. Numbness froze him as her body bounced toward the edge and though his brain screamed at him to go after her, his legs refused to move.

Thunder boomed overhead and a bolt of lightning struck a tree nearby, the deafening crack shocking him out of his paralysis. Reflex caused him to duck into a ball to avoid danger and in the moment that he looked away from her, his guts clenched like he was going to spew. Snapping his head up, he saw her body laying at an awkward angle half over the edge, her leg impaled on a broken, pointed branch.

Blood.

So much blood.

Stomach acid stung the back of his throat. He gagged.

“Mama!”

He ran, flying down the slippery stone steps, somehow keeping his balance as he careened toward the cliff face where the only thing that stopped her from going over was the branch. He blinked against the rain as more thunder filled the air.

Kneeling at her side, he grabbed her arm and pulled the top half of her body to safety. She groaned but the big, red egg on her forehead scared him. The skin had split, and blood dribbled down the side of her face but it was nothing compared to her thigh.

“What do I do?” he yelled over the rain. He pressed his hands to her thigh to try and put pressure on the wound. Dark red blood seeped through his fingers.

Her eyes sprang open and she coughed. “Your belt.”

Hands slick with blood, he stood and undid the buckle, pulling the leather strap out of the loops of his pants.

“Put it around my thigh, like a tourniquet.” She watched him follow her instructions, struggling to keep her eyes open. Despite the shaking in his hands, he managed to fit the end of the belt through the buckle. “Now pull tight.”

He did.

“Tighter,” she gasped. “No. Tighter, William.”

He gritted his teeth and put all his strength behind it. She cried out but nodded all the same. Fumbling with the belt buckle, he secured it in place.

“Now what?”

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