Page 115 of Under Pressure

My phone buzzes again, and I don’t need to check to know it’s Callie calling again. I ignore it the way I have the last few days and stare ahead of me. A cold drip crawls up my spine,then wraps around my neck like bone fingers, squeezing, squeezing,squeezing.

To no one’s surprise, the trailer I grew up in is worse off than it was twelve years ago. In my mind, I hear the slam of the screen door and swallow, fighting back a shudder. The familiar sound of grasshoppers in the broken-down playground at the centre of the park mixes with the scent of motor oil and marijuana, turning my stomach.

A couple argues from one trailer, and another cheers. The wind is warm, sticky on my bare arms. I blink and force myself to walk deeper into what I once considered a neighbourhood. Before I knew better and learned what sat beyond this place. The promise of community and safety.

The weight of where I need to be in an hour presses against my back and guides me forward, closer to the place where I grew up. Regret and determination are at war with themselves, the battle becoming bloodier with every step I take.

Tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision. I could find this place with a blindfold on, though. There’s no forgetting the place where you grew up. Not if you have the best, happiest memories there or the ones that keep you up at night with a scream in your throat.

The last three nights, I’ve seen Mom’s bloodshot, bruised eyes hovering above me and heard her frantic screeching in my ears, asking where I hid her drugs. Last night, I woke in a cold sweat with five phantom nails scratching my neck in a wild grab for a drug I wish hadn’t been created. It was a memory I’ll never completely shatter.

Beck’s absence has been stark. I’ve felt it in every aspect of my life. The silence in my renovated apartment, the lack of cheesy texts and selfies in my phone, and the chill on my skin where his arms used to keep me warm. I never expected him to become so ingrained in my life. Now, I can’t even sleep without him.

Ruthie was right.

I’ve spent so long hating my past and being ashamed of the hardships I’ve faced that I’ve let those struggles carry into my present and damage my future. I’m never going to be able to move forward if I don’t look back one last time.

Thunder rumbles in the thick, dark clouds above me. Moisture clings to the hot air, making every breath taste dewy. If it rains, I’ll get soaked. Maybe that could be a good thing. Let nature cleanse this place.

Cleanseme.

My brows jump when I stop in front of the trailer and bump into a mailbox. It’s straight, sturdy, with rainbows and hearts painted on each side. It doesn’t even slant. No chips in the wood or a missing handle. It’s . . . nice.

Following the edge of the sidewalk with a curious gaze, I realize the cracks have been filled. The dandelions that used to sprout in the crushed concrete are gone, and the weeds along the edges have been clipped away. Shocked awe drives me forward. I inhale shakily.

The shutters are gone. Instead of the left one hanging off and dangling on a rusted bolt, the windows have been replaced. I clear my throat with a choked cough. Blinking frantically, I clear my vision enough to make out the sunflower stickers on the glass and the words written in colourful window markers.Happy Birthday Love Bug!

My ankles wobble. A Barbie-pink bike is on the freshly mowed grass. I almost reach for the water gun beside it just to confirm it’s real. There’s no sign of water, and as I look up at the angry sky, I wonder how any of this is here, real. The bike should have been traded for cigarettes, and the writing on the window should have been smeared and spat on.

I don’t remember how many times Mom kicked my bike when I tucked it against the side of the trailer. Before Callie’s accident, we shared the same one, even though it was hard for her to reach the pedals. I remember when we thought Mom hadbrought it to a shop to be repaired, only to learn she had given it to one of her friends in exchange for?—

“Hi.”

The tiny voice scares me. I take a quick step back and lift my gaze to the small porch with a fresh set of wood steps. Sawdust is still floating on the breeze near the blonde girl watching me.

She’s wearing a white bike helmet with a pink flower on the side. Both her knees and elbows are covered with Spider-Man pads that look a size too big. I strangle a sob in my throat.

“Do you like my bike?”

“Yes.”

Her smile lights up her entire face. She’s covered in these tiny brown freckles all the way from her hair down to her fingertips. They remind me of Callie in the summer.

“Thanks. It’s new. For my birthday. I turned seven.”

“Happy birthday.” I force the words out of my mouth.

“Do you want some cake? My mom made it.”

I’ve already started backing up, away from this place and the happy little girl with pure eyes and an unburdened heart. Even when I turn to the playground, it’s not the same as it was. The grasshoppers are still there, but the grass has been cut. I cut open my knee on a tall metal slide with the dent in the middle, and it’s no longer there. In its place, I see a safe, bright yellow plastic one with a small puddle of clear water at the bottom. None of it makes sense.

Nothing is the same as it was the last time I was here. Besides the smells and the voices that have . . . quieted now, it doesn’t send that foreboding shiver up my spine. There’s happiness here. More than there ever was before.

I drop my eyes to the sidewalk one last time, searching for the two words I scored into the concrete. Eighteen and finally without the chains of this place, I used my Swiss Army knife to say one last goodbye not only to this trailer, but to my mother. It was the last time I saw her, though she didn’t dare step outside to speak to me.

She watched through the dirty front window, shaking her head as I carvedfuck youinto her broken sidewalk and flipped her off with both hands. Then, I hauled Callie into the back seat of my beater car and filled the trunk with whatever belongings had any value and got her the hell out of there. Even as a kid, she didn’t question me.

Not once.