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“Okay.” Counting I can do.
“Take a deep breath.” He pulls on the rope until the slack is gone, pauses, and then pulls again.
My shoulders burn, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. The rope bites into my wrists, which is uncomfortable but not painful. As my feet leave the top of the desk, I close my eyes and begin to count as Cree continues to pull.
I brace myself, expecting to be jerked around with every yank of the rope, but it’s not like that. In fact, the journey upward is surprisingly smooth. Still, I keep my eyes closed. If I’m going to fall and drown, I don’t want to see it coming.
“Hold on,” Cree says again, his voice still calm and reassuring. “You’re almost there.”
A moment later, I feel his fingers around one of my wrists and finally open my eyes. I’m already at the second floor, and Cree quickly hauls me over the railing. I drop to the floor with an unceremonious thump.
“See?” he says. “You’re fine.”
Cree kneels in front of me and carefully removes the loops from my wrists.
“Where did you find the rope?” I ask as he gathers it up and starts to twist it back and forth into a neatly folded bundle.
“I had it with me.” He clears his throat as he tosses the bundled rope to the floor. “It was, uh, in my backpack.”
I narrow my eyes at him and then take a better look at exactly what he had done to pull me up. My mouth drops open as I take in the scene in front of me.
It isn’t just one rope; it’s several. They’re all tied together and attached with a carabiner to another rope, which is wrapped around the bannister near the top of the stairs.
He created a pulley system to get me up. That’s why it was such a smooth ride. Multiple ropes, carabiners, hand-holds…it was as if he knew exactly what was going to happen.
“How…how did you do all this? Why do you have all this stuff?”
Cree’s eyes darken, and he glances away. He doesn’t say anything as he slowly crouches near the banister and collects the rest of the rope and carabiners.
Clearly, I’ve hit on something he doesn’t want to discuss. My face heats up, and I’m about to apologize for even asking when my hypothalamus suddenly activates, and adrenaline pumps through my body as questions race through my mind.
Who carries multiple pieces of rope and carabiners in their backpack when they head off to the library to study? If he has rope in his backpack, and he’s not a Boy Scout, what else does he have in there? Duct tape? Plastic garbage bags?
Oh my God. What if my high school crush is actually a serial killer?
Chapter 3—Cree
Kas is clearly shaken, and I’m not exactly sure what to say next.
My instinct is to carefully coil my ropes, reveling in the texture of the jute as I gather everything together with precision and an element of ceremony. However, I’m pretty sure Kas has just decided I’m a murderer or a rapist, and she’s been traumatized enough for one night. Watching me lovingly pore over rope isn’t going to reassure her, so I quickly grab the ropes from the floor, untie them from the bannister, and then shove them into my backpack.
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I have nothing to be embarrassed about, but I suddenly wish the emergency lighting wasn’t working so I wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. I hadn’t considered her reaction to finding out I walk around campus with a half-dozen coils of rope, carabiners, and metal loops designed to attach to hard points sitting next to my abnormal psych book.
I finally glance back at Kas, who now has her back pressed against the railing as if that offers her protection from me. She’s eyeing me with distrust, and she jumps every time the water sloshes around below. Her eyes are wide, she’s breathing fast, and I feel terrible.
I know a thing or two about fear, and the last thing I want is for anyone to be fearful of me, especially considering our circumstances. I’m supposed to be the person people trust, not someone to dread. I’m also used to people knowing this about me, given my position, and I don’t know exactly what I should say to this young woman who is obviously afraid.
I think about Rocco and his abundance of fears. It took a while for him to learn to trust me and allow me to help him. Sometimes his agoraphobia is so bad, he can’t even manage to leave his dorm room without a serious amount of coaxing and almost always a little rope to entice him.
As familiar as I am on the subject of phobias, I’m mostly attuned to Rocco’s, and I’m not sure what to do about Kas and her obvious fear of the water.
Aquaphobia.
As soon as she told me she couldn’t swim, I understood her previous actions a little better. Though she had a point about the electric lines being down, it’s clear she shies away from water altogether. The windows weren’t high, and we could have climbed out of them and jumped into the water
outside, but she wasn’t going to chance it. Now that I know more, I start with the basics.
“Relax, Kas,” I say quietly. “The rope was just the best way to get you away from the water. You’re up here now and safe. The storm can’t last forever, and we’re a good ten feet over the water now.”
