Wrecked

  Wrecked

  by

  Priscilla West

  Copyright © 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2013

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: This work contains sexual content and is written for adults only (18+). All characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Note

  Chapter Two: Swimming

  Chapter Three: Slobbering Dog

  Chapter Four: Bearded Squirrel

  Chapter Five: Neverland

  Chapter Six: Rumors

  Chapter Seven: Ice Cream

  Chapter Eight: The Flyman

  Chapter Nine: Lessons

  Chapter Ten: Friends?

  Chapter Eleven: Curiousity

  Chapter Twelve: Home

  Chapter Thirteen: The Scam

  Chapter Fourteen: Cupid

  Chapter Fifteen: Hurt

  Chapter Sixteen: The Stunner

  Chapter Seventeen: Special

  Chapter Eighteen: Shut-in

  Chapter Nineteen: New Beginnings

  Chapter Twenty-one: The Letter

  Chapter Twenty-two: The Fall

  Chapter Twenty-three: Missing

  Chapter Twenty-four: The Confrontation

  Chapter Twenty-five: Goodbye

  Chapter Twenty-six: Time

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Second Try

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Secret

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Damaged

  Chapter Thirty: Wrecked

  Chapter Thirty-one: Wake

  Chapter One

  THE NOTE

  There would be no happy ending for us. He was too damaged. I was too broken. Things between us shouldn’t have gone this far in the first place. Then this never would’ve happened. If only I’d been stronger. If I only I hadn’t said those words, if only we were different people—not the lost, scared and broken people that we were . . . then we wouldn’t be in this wreck.

  ***

  I was okay. Just okay. Not good, not bad—just okay. After what happened to Mom, I answered a lot of questions with that line.

  “Lorrie, how are you coping?” they would ask.

  “I’m okay.”

  Or: “I’m so sorry Lorrie, this shouldn’t have happened to a woman like your mother. How are you dealing with things?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Before the trial, during the trial and after the trial, I gave that same answer. What the hell did they expect me to say?

  Sitting on the edge of a low stone bridge spanning a narrow part of Lake Teewee, I looked out across the dark waters, idly gazing at the old, towering trees along the distant shore as if they somehow knew the answers I was seeking.

  I dangled my legs over the side, my snow boots almost touching the high water. The bridge spanned over a narrow part of the half-frozen lake that eventually turned into a stream winding through and around the west side of campus. Some of the students liked to call the lake “Lake Peepee.” I thought it was a stupid name at first but then someone explained that there were frequent rumors of frat boys pissing in the lake. Whether it was true or not, the water in the lake was still covered in a disgusting layer of green algae.

  I had finished unpacking and setting up my dorm room last night, and decided to take a walk this morning to refamiliarize myself with the campus layout. It would be nearly a week before classes officially started so there weren’t too many students roaming the campus yet which made the place rather quiet.

  I exhaled deeply and my breath fogged in front of me.

  After taking three semesters off, I was back on campus again at Arrowhart College, ready to start the Spring semester in the middle of the coldest winter ever experienced in Studsen, Illinois. The crappy weather made the timing of my move from my aunt’s house in Indiana back to Illinois unfortunate, but I didn’t want to delay coming back to school.

  Aunt Caroline had suggested I take another semester off, but that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to feel normal again. I needed to go beyond the denial, the anger, and the depression. The therapist had told me I was one step away from reaching the last stage of grief, which was “acceptance”, then I could move on with my life. She’d said this last step was the hardest for most people. For some it takes months, others years, and the rest . . . well, they never make it. I didn’t know which category I’d fit into; all I knew was being away from school didn’t help me cope. If anything, it just gave me more time to dwell on the past.

  A high-pitched squeal to my left made me jump. Frantically reaching for a grippable stone on the bridge, I managed to find one and regain my balance, saving myself from falling into the water. I turned toward the noise and caught a glimpse of a black cat disappearing into the thick brush with a mouse in its mouth. It was probably a stray trying to collect enough food to last the remaining winter.

  I wrung my hand like a disgruntled old woman warning kids to get off her lawn. “Hey buddy! You almost made me fall into the lake.” The cat had almost lived up to its reputation for being unlucky.

  The cat poked its head out of a bush for a moment, looked at me curiously with its green eyes, lost interest then vanished again.

  “That’s right. Get out of here kitty,” I said, a bit disappointed that he left. No one else was around and I could’ve used the company.

  The cat was like most of the friends I’d made freshman year at Arrowhart; we had a momentary connection but then we quickly went our separate ways and lost contact. I’d only kept in touch with Daniela Stauffer, who was now going to be one of my suitemates this semester. Maybe I’d make new friends this semester. Thinking about that, I frowned when I imagined students’ reactions to me telling them that I was a twenty-year-old sophomore. I could almost hear the questions. Did she get academic probation? Could she not afford to pay for school?

  I had good reasons for being a first semester sophomore when I should’ve been a second semester junior, but I’d prefer they didn’t know.

  Unfortunately, most probably did know—through the media covering the trial and through campus rumors. Word tended to spread fast on a college campus with only a few thousand students.

  I sighed heavily then inhaled through my mouth. The crisp winter air entering my lungs felt refreshing. The thick puffer jacket I wore kept my chest warm, but the cold stone beneath me sucked the heat from my bottom through my jeans, leaving my ass slightly numb.

  My ass matched my feelings. I was numb when I should’ve been excited. Wasn’t it supposed to feel good returning to college? To go to fun parties and meet hot guys? To be moving on with my life again? Wasn’t that what Mom and Dad would have wanted?

  Reaching into the inner pocket of my jacket, I pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. I unfolded it and stared at the black letters shakily written in cursive by Dad. My chest grew tight and my fingers trembled but there were no tears in my eyes as I read the letter again, for the thousandth time.

  Dear Lorrie,

  Whatever happens after this, I want you to know that I love you and that this had nothing to do with you. Even after the divorce, I still loved your mother. I guess you always knew that. I can only blame myself for what happened to her. Maybe if I hadn’t worked so much, had paid more attention to her, we would’ve never gotten divorced, and she would�
��ve never met that monster.

  I’m so sorry Lorrie. I’m sorry to you, and I’m sorry to your mother. She was so beautiful. She was the best thing in my world, and even after the divorce, I was happy to just be a part of your lives.

  I know that you need me now, more than ever, but I can’t. I just can’t Lorrie. I’m too weak. It hurts so much that she’s no longer here. You’re the strong one Lorrie, you’ve always been strong. Ever since you were born, you were always so strong. You have to keep going, don’t make the same mistakes I made.

  I’m sorry Lorrie. Goodbye.

  Love,

  Dad

  I should cry now, I thought. That’s what normal people did right? In the movies, whenever someone read their father’s suicide note they cried afterwards. I’d cried the first hundred times I read it but now I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t feel anything. Not even when I wanted to. It was like there was a switch in my brain that was connected but nothing was transmitting. No sadness, no pain, no joy. Just numbness. Was that what Dad meant when he said I was strong? That I could numb away the pain and move on?

  I dipped the toe of my boot into the water and nudged a thick ice piece floating by.

  Dad took his own life a few months ago, after the trial was over. It was a hell of a thing to do to your loved ones. It was a hell of a thing to do to his sister, Caroline. And to me, after I spent most of my time living with him after the divorce. Didn’t he know how much we cared about him? Didn’t he know how broken we’d be when he committed suicide?

  I folded up the note and put it back into my pocket. When I patted my jacket for my phone to check the time, I remembered I’d left it back in my room. I should probably head back.

  A soft gurgling drew my attention to the water beneath the bridge and I looked down. I almost didn’t see it at first, but then I spotted it. There was a large goldfish making slow circles under the water.

  “Hey fishy. What are you doing? Aren’t you freezing in there?”

  The fish glugged a few bubbles to the surface and I took it as a yes. It was slow but looked alive in the bitter coldness of the water. I envied that feeling of being alive. My ass was numb and I was numb on the inside. I wanted to feel something. Anything. Just to know that I was still here.

  I tucked my legs beneath me and leaned over the side of the bridge, dipping my fingers into the water. A frigid chill spiked up my arm invigorating me.

  I could still feel something.

  I leaned further over the side of the bridge so that I could reach deeper into the water. My wiggling fingers must’ve looked like dinner because the fish approached and started nibbling at me. The icy bite of the water made me alert and awake, clearing the numb fuzz that I thought had settled permanently on my mind. I pushed up the sleeve of my jacket with my other hand, before leaning further, to plunge my arm deeper. The edge of my sleeve was getting wet but I didn’t care. The cold had a cleansing quality, even as the tips of my fingers were starting to lose their feeling.

  I thought about leaning further, but it was already the furthest I could go without losing my balance. If I fell in the freezing water, I might die—there was certainly no one around to help me. I might have been numb but I wasn’t stupid.

  Something felt odd around my shoe.

  I twisted my head and saw a black, furry creature tearing viciously at my shoelaces.

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  The cat screeched and jumped three feet in the air, scaring the shit out of me. I wanted to pull my hand out of the water, but it was too late. I flailed for a split second, trying to grab onto the stone I’d used earlier to save myself, but this time I missed.

  I tipped forward, losing all balance.

  Then I was underwater.

  Chapter Two

  SWIMMING

  I panicked when my head went beneath the surface and I opened my mouth to scream. In an instant, my lungs inhaled a mixture of water and algae, making me choke and sputter. The cold soaked through my heavy winter clothes immediately, piercing me to my core. I struggled to surface but my jacket was suddenly ten times heavier. I felt myself sinking.

  A dreadful thought tore through my mind.

  This is it. It’s all over.

  I was going to drown. I was going to die. Aunt Caroline was going to think I ended up taking the same path as Dad. Killing myself. She had lost her sister-in-law, then her brother, and now her niece.

  But I didn’t choose this! I didn’t want this. It was an accident caused by a stupid cat.

  And then a silly thought flashed.

  I can’t die like this, in a lake full of piss-eating algae. The embarrassment would be too much.

  Fighting against the weight of my clothes, I furiously kicked my legs, forcing myself upward. My head bumped into a hard ceiling—a large piece of ice had floated above me. I reached out with half-frozen fingers, desperately trying to find where the ice ended. Or a hole. Anything.

  I felt nothing. Everything was solid. I flailed my arms in a frenzy, frightened because I couldn’t hold my breath much longer. Suddenly, my hand burst through to the surface and I felt the cold air against my fingertips. Frantically thrashing my legs, I torpedoed my body toward the hole. Finally, I broke through to the crisp air.

  I never thought I could feel so much relief in my life. I panted for air, sucking it in like it was my last breath. I had made it. I had survived. I had a near-death experience and was going to appreciate life so much more after this moment. I silently thanked the powers-that-be for a second chance.

  I wiped the water from my eyes and my relief turned into despair.

  The bridge was nowhere in sight.

  As I violently roiled the water around me, I tried looking for the shore but I couldn’t find it. Where the hell was it? My teeth chattered violently and my limbs were turning into frozen icebergs, numbness overtaking my muscles. Suddenly, a sharp sting knifed through my stomach, and I clutched my abs in pain. Perfect time for a cramp! Unable to move, for a brief instant I was left with the thought of sending a letter to Kellogg’s telling them the Frosted Flakes I ate this morning turned out to be the death of me. Then my legs gave out. I stopped treading water. I stopped floating and started sinking.

  I was going to die.

  “What the fuck?!” someone shouted.

  “Help!” I screamed instinctively with the last of my breath. “HEL—” My head submerged beneath the freezing surface.

  Water blurred my vision, making me lose my orientation. Distantly, I heard a splash then I felt something grasp my shoulders. I struggled against it thinking it was going to push me further into the depths.

  Someone was shouting at the surface but the voice was faint beneath the water. “Stop fighting me dammit! Or we’ll both die out here!”

  Strong arms wrapped beneath my armpits raised me above the water.

  I tried to tilt my head to see who the voice was coming from, but a wet mass of my own hair covered my face. Powerful arms and legs stroked the water around us propelling us toward the side of the lake.

  Before long, we collapsed onto the bank.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” cried a deep male voice, breathless.

  On hands and knees, I tried to respond but ended up coughing water onto the gravel. My clothes were completely drenched and my muscles were coiling into tight balls. It was actually colder now that we were out of the lake.

  God this was so embarrassing. I could see it on the campus paper now: Sophomore goes for a swim in Lake Peepee in the middle of winter.

  My savior took several deep breaths before dragging himself to sit on a large rock beside me.

  When I had finished coughing, I brushed the hair out of my face and looked up at him. He had short, dark hair matted with water and a sharp, sculpted nose set between two dark grey eyes. His brows were furrowed in concern. His strong jaw was covered in a rough layer of stubble that framed his full, shapely lips. He was so gorgeous, my breath hitched in my throat. Had I died and gone to heaven?r />
  Steam rose from his body as if his outrageous hotness physically manifested and clashed with the frigid air. His gray sweatshirt was soaked, and it clung tightly to his chest, enough to see the outline of the wide shoulders and thick muscles underneath. I rubbed my eyes, figuring the contaminated water I swallowed was making me hallucinate. No way this was real. I looked again and realized it wasn’t an illusion.

  Wow.

  A hint of a tattoo peeked out the side of his sweatshirt collar along his neck. I squinted but couldn’t make out what it was because it extended further down beneath his drenched clothing. It made me wonder what other tattoos he could be hiding. Finishing my assessment of his dazzling figure, my conclusion consisted of two words: Padded and tatted.

  My face was becoming warm despite the cold, and my heart started beating faster. As an attempt to calm myself, I wracked my brain to pick a better-looking savior from any of the thousands of students I’d seen before on campus. But I couldn’t pick anyone. Who could rival him?

  “What was that?” he shouted again but softer this time. His voice was rough and husky—though laced with concern.

  As if almost drowning in Lake Peepee wasn’t embarrassing enough already, I had to be fished out by the hottest guy I’d seen in ages—maybe ever. If he hadn’t jumped in to save me, I might’ve been a goner.

  My teeth chattered. “I-I-It’s the cat’s fault.”

  He stared into the distance then furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about? What cat? There’s nothing there.”

  I followed his gaze and spotted the bridge. The stupid black cat was still there watching us but it was motionless, blending in with the dark foliage behind it. It had an impassive expression as if it was smugly saying, “What a bunch of idiots.”

  “It’s right there.” I pointed desperately with a wet finger. “Can’t you see it?”