Shattered Castles 1 : Castles on the Sand (25 page)

A part of me wants to talk to John. The rest of me knows that I am in a speeding ambulance and have palms so sweaty I couldn't hold onto a cellphone. It'd end up sliding through my fingers like a bar of soap and might bean the driver or something, and that would not be good.

A little voice in the back of my head suggests that this image is funny. I ignore it. I shut my eyes and try to still my thoughts as we drive on, and on, and on. How far, I can't even guess.

The siren starts up with a wail again and I open my eyes to see us shoot through an intersection, cars dividing to the left and right to let us past. We rocket through a small town I can't identify at this speed and are soon past it.

This drive feels like it's been an eternity, but finally we enter another town, careen around a corner and up a ramp to the emergency room door. The driver jumps out and comes around to my side. When I get down from my seat, he grasps my arm and takes me into the waiting room.

The receptionist takes one look at us and goes pale. “Yes?” she says.

“We need Sonya.” His voice is rock steady, as if this is a normal night.

“I'll call her.”

Behind us the doors slide open again and the ambulance crew stride past with Kailie. Mrs. Beale is with them, looking almost as pale as her daughter. “Do you know her blood type?” one of the paramedics asks her.

She shakes her head.

“She'll be okay,” another one assures me. “You did well. Smart to use your gloves like that, on her wrists.”

“I'm gonna get some scrubs for you to change into, all right?” says the receptionist to me. She disappears through a door to the back.

“Ma'am,” says the ambulance driver to Mrs. Beale, “you need to come with me. They'll look after your daughter.”

“But-”

“Now.”

The crowd disappears through a set of sliding doors.

The stench of blood is getting stronger by the moment. I wonder how it didn't gag me in the enclosed cab of the ambulance.

A woman with gray streaked black hair comes out of a door behind the reception area, takes one good look at me, and says, “Please don't tell me you offed someone.”

“Suicide attempt,” I say.

“Not you?” says the woman.

“No,” I say. “Kailie Beale. They just took her back.”

“So what do you need to see me for? I'm Sonya, by the way.”

“I don't know. Officer Li just told me to come find you.”

“How old is the patient?”

“Sixteen.”

“Do you know what drove her to suicide?”

“I could guess.”

“Abuse of some kind?”

I nod.

“All right, okay.” She presses her hands to her forehead.

Just then, the receptionist returns with a stack of blue folded clothing and says, “The rest rooms are through there. Change, put your bloody clothes in this-” she lays a plastic bag on the counter “-and oh, Sonya, you're here. The mother is back there.”

“Okay, right. You take this young lady back after she's changed.”

The receptionist pushes the plastic bag into my hands. “There you go.”

I
n the bathroom, I find that my legs are also coated in a fine layer of blood that's hardened enough to be scabby. I wet some toilet paper under the faucet and wipe myself off, then dry my skin with more toilet paper. This is beyond gory, beyond horrific.

When I emerge with my blood soaked clothes in a plastic bag, I find not the receptionist, but Sonya waiting for me. She takes my arm and says, “I'm the social worker on duty here in the ER this shift,” she says. “I understand your friend was found in some unusual circumstances?” Her voice is very smooth and purrs with energy.

She guides me by the arm through a set of doors and then into a little, windowless office with a desk in one corner and four chairs that face each other. I sit in the one that the social worker indicates for me. “This is complicated because the mother is here too and I need to talk to the police and CPS-”

“CPS?”

“Child Protective Services. Listen, the mother doesn't seem to want to talk, so I'm asking you, should your friend go home to her parents after she's treated here? What do you think?”

“Um... where else would she go?”

“To a foster home while CPS investigates the situation and decides on a course of action.”

“Foster home?”

“I'm throwing way too much information at you. I need to know, do we send this girl home, or will that put her back into the same situation that drove her to suicide?”

Images flash through my mind of Kailie scarfing down food, the mood swings, the hiding from her family. “I...” The sentence won't finish, no matter how hard I push. I never expected I would have to turn the Beales in. I assumed the situation would be bad until Kailie turned eighteen and ran off with some guy or something.

“All right,” says the social worker. “I'll be back. I'm going to go talk to the doctor.”

As soon as she leaves the room, I fold my arms tight across my chest. I feel so drained that it's hard to even stay sitting up. So many dire images have been shoved into my mind that I feel like I need to scream to get them out, but if I release the flood, it may never end. The room sways, and I realize I'm rocking myself. I wonder if I'm muttering too.

“We're looking for Kailie Beale,” comes Carson's voice from down the hall. I sit up straight. “Hey!” he shouts. “Where are you going?”

Footsteps sound against the tile and Alex grabs the doorframe and pivots to lean in. I look up at him and he stares back a moment before coming to kneel in front of my chair, grasping the armrests on each side of me. He looks me in the eye. “Hey. You all right?”

I can't even talk, only whimper. I want to grab hold of his shirt and pull him in for a hug, a kiss, any contact, as much contact as possible.

I know I'm not thinking straight. My arms stay firmly folded.

“It'll be okay, all right? It will,” he says.

I try to inhale but instead a sob bursts from me. I tumble out of the chair to kneel with him on the floor and put my arms around his waist. I expect him to push me away, to recoil and reject me. Instead, he tucks my head under his chin and wraps his arms around me, strong and safe, just like he held his mother when she was scared. More sobs escape my mouth and I'm crying like a child, blubbering like a little girl with my face buried in his cotton shirt. He's all corded muscle and sinew, but his touch is gentle.

“Hey,” he whispers. I feel him stroke my hair. “It's all right. It'll be okay.”

And miraculously, I believe him. I nuzzle in closer. I've soaked the neckline of his shirt with tears and realize I'd better blow my nose.

He loosens his hold on me just enough for me to dig a tissue out of my pocket, then tightens it once more. “Thank you,” I whisper.

His fingers touch my cheek.

“Is she all right?” That's Carson's voice, coming from the doorway.

“She'll be okay,” says Alex.

I break out of his embrace and look up at Carson, who only says, “Well, okay. I'm gonna go back to Kailie.”

“Carson?” I say.

“See you.” He turns to leave.

Alex looks me in the eye, as if weighing what I decide to do next.

“How'd you know where to find me?” I ask through hiccupping sobs.

“I've been here before.”

“So what happens now?”

“Sounds like they're going to take Kailie from her parents for the next little while and work out a safety plan before they give her back.”

Kneeling on the floor feels a bit overdramatic now. I get back up into my chair.

He puts his hands on the armrests again. “CPS is going to investigate,” he says. “They're going to maybe build a case against her parents. And the police might bring criminal charges.”

“Really?”

“Sounds like it. You're safe right now. With these people. They aren't affected by the Pelican Bluffs Municipal Council.”

I never figured he was much for town politics, but maybe the Beales' absolute reign is known to everyone.

“It'll be okay,” he says. “You did the right thing. You saved her life. The hard part is over, all right?” His eyes still on mine, he reaches for my hand.

“Well,” comes Sonya's voice in the hallway.

Alex withdraws so that when she comes through the door, he's just kneeling beside me, one hand resting lightly on the armrest of my chair.

“Alex,” she says. “This girl a friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“You talk!”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Way to go, buddy. All right, I need to talk to Madison here.”

“You want me to stay?” Alex asks, his gaze directed at me, not Sonya.

I nod.

He gets up and moves to the chair next to me. Sonya sits across from me and starts to ask questions. First she wants to know how I found Kailie, what let me know she might harm herself. Then she starts asking questions about the last few days and weeks. I tell her about the impromptu sleepover, the estranged sister one street over from me, the way she almost never has her phone, the weird punishment where here parents took her furniture. I tell her about the smear campaign, though I don't mention Alex's role. He doesn't even shift his weight with discomfort. It's like he doesn't care. I guess when your mother sees ghosts, it takes a lot to rattle you.

I tell her about how my Facebook page got trashed and Kailie's partying ways. When she asks if Kailie is sexually active, I admit that all I know is that she isn't a virgin. “We don't talk about that kind of stuff.”

“Does she drink?”

“Yeah.”

“Do drugs?”

“I don't-”

“Yeah,” Alex cuts in. “Smokes weed, at least.”

“And you know that how?” says Sonya.

“I've seen it.” He doesn't bat an eye.

“And do you use drugs?” she asks him.

“People who use weed are 40% more likely to develop psychotic disorders, so no.” He is totally deadpan when he says this, but I find myself choking back the urge to giggle. Get a
grip
, I think. This is not a funny moment.

“And you're on probation,” she snaps.

“I'm more scared of psychosis.”

“I would be too,” I agree.

Sonya rolls her eyes and resumes questioning me. “Could Kailie be pregnant?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does she have any deep dark secrets that she doesn't dare tell anyone?”

“I don’t know.”

“How would her parents react to a teen pregnancy?”

“They disowned her sister over it.”

“Howabout to her coming out as homosexual?”

“Her family's really religious,” is all I can say.

“Which church?”

“Presbyterian? I think?”

“Could she be homosexual and if she is, would she hide it?”

I resist the urge to look at Alex. “I’m pretty sure she’s not.”

The shorter my answers get, the more general the questions become, until Sonya asks, “Do you know what drove her to suicide?”

“Feeling unloved,” I say.

“You think her parents’ punishments made her feel unloved?”

“She felt like not even they were on her side.”

Sonya makes a few more notes on her tablet and folds the case shut. “All right. Thank you, and you can go see your friend, then get home and get a good night's sleep. Here's my card.” She presses it into my hand. “Call me if you think there's anything else I should know.”

I curl my fingers around it and nod as Alex and I get to our feet.

“Where's Kailie?” I ask.

“Here.” Alex precedes me to the door. “Come, this way.”

I follow him out the door and down the hall. Two turns later, we reach her, lying on a hospital bed in a little cubicle that can be curtained off, but the curtains are open. Her head is elevated and a heart monitor pings. Her wrists are clean and bandaged. She is still deathly pale and I'm so distracted by this that I don't notice the other Mormons standing nearby until LaDell clears her throat. They all look at me, wide-eyed.

“How'd you guys all get here?” I ask.

“Wednesday night,” says Alex. “Mutual.”

“Oh. Right.”

“My dad called us from the restaurant,” says Carson. “And we were at the chapel, so it wasn't a very long drive to get here.

I nod.

“You saved her life,” says Wendy.

“I almost didn't.”

“She lost one and a half units of blood,” says Alex, “not enough to kill her. They'll probably do a transfusion, but she's okay. It just looks really bad poured out on the floor.”

“I am not going to ask how you know what one and a half units of blood looks like poured out on the floor,” I say.

“Well, your sense of humor's still intact at least.”

“Sure. That's just so funny.” My friend's eyes look sunken and her cheeks hollow. I remember all the food she scarfed down at my house and the burritos we ate this morning. “Where does she go after this?”

“Her family has seventy-two hours to find a relative to take custody of her, and if that doesn't happen, she'll be released to a foster family while CPS puts together a safety plan to reintegrate her with her family. They may make her parents take some classes and things like that.”

I hear frantic whispering and look to see LaDell saying something I can't hear to Carson. Everyone stares at Alex like he's a freak.