Cut Me Free (27 page)

 

28

“Brothers, wait!” I pound on the door with both fists. It's made of solid wood, sturdy, not rotting like half the wood in this building. Without a key, we're never getting through it. My mind scrambles over anything to make him return and release us. But already it's too late. His footsteps are gone and I hear nothing but silence.

It's just another attic, Piper. Another prison.

My mind sorts through any other way out, but there are no windows. I run my hand down the side of the door, dusting off some dirt. Under the grime, the wood is brand-new. Even the knob shines under the swaying light.

A block of ice settles in my chest where my heart used to be. He'd planned for the possibility that he might be locking me in. I walked right into his trap and I brought Cam with me.

Pacing the room, I examine everything and search for any escape. The metal storage racks tower over my head. I could climb them, but the ceiling is solid. It would get me nowhere. The vents are too small for even me to fit through, let alone Cam. No way out but the door.

Reaching in my pocket, I withdraw my phone, but when I open it there is only a black X where the signal bars should be. I check the phone Brothers gave me as well—nothing.

“Do you have your phone?” Keeping my voice low and level is so hard I'm afraid I might break. Cam fumbles in his pocket and the phone falls to the floor. I grab it, but he doesn't have a signal either.

“He must be using a jammer or the walls are thicker than they seem.” Wincing, Cam leans his head back and closes his eyes. His normally olive skin has turned almost transparent. The cloth on his arm is soaked through and starting to drip circles of red on the floor beside him. Like the rose petals—another present from Brothers.

I can't breathe right. My own lungs match each of his shallow gasps. I yearn to see the hazel of his eyes, to see his skin return to the healthy warm color I'm used to.

But it won't, not now, probably never again.

His life is fading away before me and I'm powerless to stop it … like Nana, like Sam. Like Sam—he looks more and more like my dead little brother every moment. Like Sam with his paper-white skin and the wound and all the blood. For a moment I can't remember whether I'm in the storage room or standing under Sam's tree. The peeling linoleum beneath my feet becomes dirt and I can smell tobacco on the Father's breath as he tells me to “bury the Boy.” I can't breathe and I can't think and I want everything to stop. Before Cam is gone like my brother, before I'm alone again.

“No. No more.” I run to the door and throw myself against it. Pound on it with both fists and scream until my throat is raw. “Please, anyone! Help! Please, let us out!” I'll do anything—anything, but there is no response. Not a sound from the other side of the door, or the streets, or the city. The world around us holds its breath and watches me again lose someone I care about. Like always, no one is here to save us. No one but me, and this time I have no answers.

“Piper?” Cam's voice is so weak I almost miss it. I come back to his side and wrap his hand in both of mine. “Stay with me.”

“Why did you do this? Why did you even come?” My voice cracks as I lift his hand up to my face, pressing it tight against my cheek. The same touch I used to fear and avoid, I now yearn for. I want to take all the warmth from my body and pour it into his, to pour my life into his. He could do so much more with it than I have.

“For you. Haven't you figured that out yet?” His eyes open and land on mine, his lips curving into a weak shadow of the smile I long to see. “I love you, all of you—Charlotte and Piper.”

I close my eyes and clasp his hand tighter. Tears fall down my cheeks and across his fingers. No one has ever said they love me, not Sam or Nana. Of course, Sam and I did love each other but we never spoke the words. It was never something we thought to do. Maybe Nana didn't feel those words or simply wasn't the kind to say them. Each word she gave us was stolen and secret.

Yet here we are, in this room, under these circumstances, and this guy who drives me crazy as often as he makes me laugh has said those words. He loves me. Cam loves all of me. With that simple understanding, everything I used to keep him at a distance comes tumbling down. The pieces bury me in dreams of what could have been if I hadn't been so stubborn, if I'd seen what we could be sooner.

I lower his hand into my lap, wrapping my fingers around his and holding tight to the only thing that can make me forget about Brothers and my past. Forget about everything that threatens to shred the ship of my life and drown me in the depths of a bottomless sea.

Whether I've wanted him to or not, he's always anchored me and calmed the storm. And now I'm losing him, too. “It should've been me. It should be me.”

“No,” Cam says, as firm as he can. “You are the only one who can stop him. We both know that. Not me.”

When I release his hand, it falls limply to his lap and my heart drops with it. I lean forward, fear and desperation fighting through every inch of my body. Tentatively, I press my lips against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. The warmth that is already fleeing from his fingers still remains in his face and I need to feel it—to know I haven't lost him yet.

“I'm so sorry, Cam. This is my fault.” Being able to say the words is good, like a burden is lifted. I never got to say them to Sam. I never had a chance to save him. My face is wet with tears for everyone I've lost, for the life that has never really been mine.

“Never say that again. Promise me.” Cam raises his uninjured hand and brushes his fingertips across my cheek and neck. When I don't respond, he enfolds my hand in his, and I'm stunned by how cold his fingers are. How much I wish it were me instead of him. Suddenly his hand is not enough. I need more of him. Tugging my hand free of his, I see pain flicker in his eyes before I ease it by stretching both my arms around his neck and pulling him tight against me. I bury my face in his chest, cradling his heartbeat against my head like somehow I can keep it going if I hold him close enough.

He kisses my cheek and nose, burying his face in my hair. I drag him ever closer. Cam moves his lips to mine and kisses me, slow and soft. My breath catches in my throat. I'd never expected it to be so good, so right. With one kiss he heals damaged pieces of me no one else has been able to reach. I kiss him back. He returns my panicked, frantic kisses with slow, sweet ones, calming my lips and my soul with his. I don't know what I'm doing, but it doesn't matter. Neither of us cares. His lips are the only thing about him that remain warm with life and I want to hold on to that life. As if keeping them warm will make him okay. I'm flooded with instant regret for every time I've been with him and not wrapped my arms around him or held his hand in mine. It all seems like a tragic waste now.

He leans back against the wall and his lips curve up into a sly grin. “I'm sorry.”

I rest against his shoulder and gaze up at him. “For what?”

“For not doing that sooner.” He winks at me before his eyes flutter closed and he goes still.

Visions of burying Sam's cold body swamp me, only now it is Cam that I see cold and pale in the shallow grave. Now it's Cam's body that I must cover with dirt even as I mourn him with every piece of me. Knowing I'll never see his smile again, never hear his laugh or feel the warmth from his hand enfolding mine. I choke back a sob and battle the images away.

“No, no. Cam?” I squeeze his hand, but he only moans in response. He's going to leave me like everyone else. Like Nana and Sam. My eyes fill with tears again and I kiss his lips, but they're so cold already they only fill me with fear. Suddenly, I can't breathe. I don't want him to go, not yet. We didn't have enough time.

Then don't let him go.

How? I don't have an answer. There is no way out.

Piper never gives up.

As long as Cam's still breathing, I have to keep trying. I will not stop. Ripping off another piece of his shirt, I tie a tourniquet around his upper arm. Losing a limb isn't a concern anymore. If I don't find a way out soon, he'll lose much more than that. I drag myself to my feet and pace the room. There has to be something. With one shaking hand, I tug my phone out of my pocket. There is still no signal, but I keep pacing. Maybe there's a spot I missed, maybe one minuscule spot where I can get a signal. If I don't focus on trying to find it, I'll start screaming. That won't help Cam. How can I help him? Back and forth, diagonally across the room, and corner to corner—I pace in silence. With every breath, he sounds weaker and the overwhelming dread piles on, burying me, shovelful upon shovelful.

Tossing the phone onto the floor, I drag down box after box from the racks. I dump them into a massive pile in the corner. Nothing seems useful. Most are empty or have cleaning supplies in them. I keep telling myself to keep searching. If I give up, I'll just sit and watch Cam die.

I cannot do that. I will not do that.

There has to be something, anything, that can help him. When I bend to pick up another box, I see it. Tucked beneath the nearest rack is a large toolbox.

Throwing myself to the floor, I pull it out, and my fingers fumble with the latch. The top shelf contains screws, nails, washers, and bolts. I lift the shelf, shoving aside screwdrivers and a hammer. In the darkness below, I see hope in my own reflection. The silvery distorted image of my own face on the head of a shining ax. Yanking it out of its hiding place, I run to the door, haul back and slam it into the wood with all my strength. At first nothing happens. I see Cam's still form in the corner of my vision and keep swinging. I have to. Then the door splinters away, piece by piece, as I keep swinging. Minutes drag like hours, my arms go numb, but finally I've done it. I've cut a hole big enough to drag Cam through.

He's still leaning against the wall, still breathing, his eyes closed even with all the noise I'm making. Is it safe to move him? Maybe not yet. I run out into the hall and finally get a signal at the opposite end of the building. Thinking fast, I dial 911 and give her the nearest cross-street address before the girl even gets out her first word.

I hear her fingers clicking on a keyboard. “And what is your emergency?”

“There is a guy here. His arm is cut and he's lost a lot of blood. Please, we need an ambulance.”

“Is he alert and able to speak?”

“No. Please hurry.”

“I'm sending help now. Stay on the li—” I close the phone and check my watch. Sanda will be out of school in ten minutes. There is only one person I trust to get her. I don't hesitate to dial the number and she answers on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Janice, I need your help.”

“Charlotte?” Her voice is a blend of concern and surprise, but I don't have time for questions.

“Can you please pick up Sanda when you get Rachel from school? I've had some trouble, and with only ten minutes until school gets out I can't possibly get there in time.”

“Of course. It's no problem.” There is a slight pause on the line and then she asks, “Are you all right?”

My throat tightens with emotion and tears roll down my cheeks. I really can't answer that question, not right now. “Thank you, Janice.” I take a deep breath. “I'll meet you at the apartment as soon as I can.”

It's silent for a moment. “Okay. Be safe.”

I close the phone and run back down the hall to Cam. He lies so still, I'm almost afraid to move closer. A dozen images of Sam flood my senses, and I fight to keep myself upright. This isn't him. He isn't dead, not yet.

I see Cam's chest struggle to rise with another breath and I rush to his side. Easing him down onto his back, I grab the shoulders of his shirt and slide him as gently as possible toward the doorway. Kicking the last remaining pieces of wood out of the way, I drag him into the hall and toward the front doors. By the time we get there, I hear the ambulance coming.

“What are you doing?” Cam's voice is barely a whisper.

I reach down and touch his hair. “It's okay. I got us out and help is coming.”

“You should go.” His eyes refuse to stay open.

“No. I can't leave you.”

“Go get Sanda. Make sure she's safe.” He presses his head against my hand. “Don't let him get her again.”

The ambulance stops in front of the building and I rush out onto the steps to flag them down. Two paramedics with the names
MARK
and
ALVIN
stitched on their uniforms hurry in with a stretcher.

“What happened?” Mark waits for me to answer.

Cam groans as they move him and I twist my fingers together trying to find the right response. “He cut himself. I t-tried to tie it off.”

Alvin examines my makeshift bandage and nods. “If he survives it will be because of you.”

All I can think is if he dies it will be because of me, too.

“He cut himself? What's his name?” Alvin turns to me with a hint of suspicion.

Before I can answer, Cam speaks, and both paramedics immediately lean over him to listen. “I don't know her. She found me. I'm Cam. Take me to Penn Hospital, please.”

He gave me an out. I know what he's thinking. He wants me to run.

“Thank you for your help then, young lady. You did the right thing by calling.” Alvin's suspicion is gone, but I can't meet his eyes. A police car parks behind the ambulance. “The officer will be right over to get your statement.”

The cop walks past the ambulance and asks the paramedics something as they wheel the stretcher along the sidewalk. My muscles twitch with the urge to run. Cam is right: the last thing I need right now is a nice long chat with the police.

I whisper under my breath, “Please be okay.” Then I sprint to hide behind the corner of the building before the officer finishes talking to the paramedics. Crouching in the shadows between buildings, I rip the back off both phones, remove the sim cards, break them in half like Cam taught me, and throw everything over the fence.