Vein Fire

Vein

Fire
  

Lucia  Adams

FreakShine  Press

New York

Copyright © 2012 Lucia Adams

All rights reserved.

ISBN
0988453606:

ISBN-
13: 978-0-9884536-0-9

Vein Fire
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher and/or author.

Published in the United States by FreakShine Press, New York.

Cover art copyright © 2008 by Carolyn Violet

“Vein Fire Paisley” images © 2012 by Jane

All other images © 2011-2012 by Lucia Adams

www.freakshine.com

For all of the Hannahs in the world.

.

Acknowledgement

Special Thanks
to Carolyn Violet for the use of her stunning photograph on the front cover.

Special  note  from  the  author

Some of the scenes in
Vein Fire
depict drug abuse, sometimes in quantities or combinations that could possibly result in death. The author does not advocate that anyone should mix or consume the drugs as portrayed in this novel and by reading this novel, you are acknowledging that you are solely responsible for your own actions.

Chapter  1

Cinder block

1988

New Florence, Pennsylvania

Hannah Simmons played the fainting game all summer. Bent in half, she inhaled thirty-five times until the air rasped and panged in her lungs. She exhale
d hard and held her breath before she tipped backwards, and her thoughts were swallowed into the black belly of unconsciousness.

If she missed the bed, she’d have dusk-purple kisses from the floor or her nightstand. Her parents ignored the unexpected thumps until the repetition began blistering their time in front of the television. Regaining consciousness, she’d wake to their yells expanding up the staircase. Once, they sent her little sister, Lorri, to see what she was doing. Hannah woke up to several kicks in the ribs by her sister’s small sandaled foot. The sudden flutter of her opening eyelids sent her sister pattering down the steps, tattling before Hannah could grab her and make her promise to keep it a secret. She could hear the murmur of Lorri’s snitching as her lungs crackled like ice breaking
while they became reacquainted with air.

“Knock it off,” her father yelled. Neither parent
left the television to educate Hannah in the dangers of self-asphyxiation. It was nothing they were concerned about—just a game played by a thirteen year old and an annoying disruption while they watched the news. They believed her wholesomeness would keep her safe from what the seclusion of their rural house didn’t.

Hannah wanted to feel like she did something well. Her best friend, Olivia, could hold her breath the longest before she passed out. Even at thirteen
, their guy friends elbowed each other and whispered when Olivia collapsed. As she fell, her long, shimmering blonde hair would wave out behind her. When she landed, the dirty mattress puffed out a cloud of dust and leaf crumbs.

Five playmates practiced the game over the summer: Hannah, Olivia Parks, Joel Boland, Matt Hansen, and Brian Weiss. They hung out behind the auto salvage building at the end of the dead end street they all lived on. Afte
r a new highway was put in, the township closed the road. The pavement was cracked and thick brush staggered with teenage trees stamped the end of the road. The sparse traffic rarely disturbed the children, allowing them to ride their bikes in-between their houses without much bother.

Across the street from the auto salvage was an old cemetery. The graves were all dated in the early 1900’s, but once a month, a volunteer from some church in town mowed the grass in a neat plaid pattern. The deep-set engraved lettering on the white marble headstones melted into the rock over the years, puffing them out so they were barely legible. Most of the graves belonged to children with old-fashioned names. Matt scared the other kids with stories of a serial killer in the woods until Brian’s mom explained they died from an outbreak of the Spanish Flu.

The three boys had always been friends, but Hannah was only included once Olivia moved into their neighborhood. The boys couldn’t resist the lovely Olivia. Her legs were long and tan, with thighs so thin they didn’t rub together at the top like Hannah’s did. Olivia was not the kind of girl who typically lived on a dead-end, isolated road. She was smart and popular, and should have lived in one of the new housing developments like the other cheerleaders did.

The kids took turns passing out onto an old mattress they found behind the auto salvage. They kept it propped up against the building, under the deep roof eaves
, and would take it down to play the fainting game. Joel found an old wristwatch with a broken band in a junk drawer at his dad’s house. He timed how long each of them could hold their breath, and he kept a record of it on the cardboard back of an old legal notepad.

An old biker guy owned the auto salvage. He’d come behind the building and ask the boys to help him carry parts occasionally, so they coexisted peacefully. They spied on him through the dirty windows—he was usually grinding metal or welding. Both jobs created an orange waterfall of sparks that extinguished themselves on his leather welding gauntlets and the smell of flux hung like smog. He wasn’t any more interesting than other adults, but the things in his salvage yard were useful for making ramps they could jump their bikes off.

Since the age of eleven, the five friends raced bikes, invented ways to entertain themselves, and often swam in Olivia’s pool. Olivia lived in a newer brick house with a paved driveway; everyone else lived in old farmhouses with peeling paint and dirt lanes.

It was 1988 and the summer before their ninth grade year. The boys joked and made innuendoes about expecting one of them to start dating one of the girls soon. Hannah knew they meant Olivia—she didn’t think she’d be the first one asked out on a date, but she hoped it would come soon after Olivia took her pick.

Hannah started watching Matt before she developed a crush on him. His crystal blue eyes were accented by his summer-browned skin. Matt climbed with a slinky ease, conquering every tree with worthy sighing branches. He out-ran, out-threw, and out-biked the other boys, and Hannah noticed. Once in a while, the group would endure the long bike ride to Buttermilk Falls and swim in the cool, dark pool at the base of the waterfall. Matt was the only one brave enough to climb to the top of the rocks and jump off, so he teased the others, except for Olivia. One day, Hannah blurted, “I’ll do it.” The group was quiet as Matt shrugged and said, “Follow me.”

Hannah decided to
follow Matt. When she struggled climbing the mossy rocks, he took her hand and pulled her behind him. His hands were cold when she expected them to be warm and they were soft despite the calluses. At the top, he let go of her hand and pushed her near the ledge. “Don’t get a running start or you chance falling the wrong way. Just stand on the edge and jump…unless you’re too scared.”

Hannah looked down at the tiny versions of Olivia, Joel, and Brian kicking ghost-like limbs under the water’s green surface. “I’m not afraid.” She narrowed her eyes at Matt. He smiled at her—the first real smile he’d ever given just for her, and she jumped. The rush of the wind blew her shirt up, and the water swallowed her feet first. She kicked for the surface and sucked the air in as soon as she reached the top. Seconds later, Matt’s body plummeted into the water near her. When he emerged, he was laughing.

“Holy shit! Hannah really did it. She didn’t even hesitate,” Matt gasped and smiled.

Hannah smiled back at him, but Olivia swam between them, “Will you take me up, Matt? I want to try it, too.”

The entire group made the climb up the mossy rocks, but Matt only helped Olivia this time. Joel hesitated, and Olivia kept making people go ahead of her, but eventually they all jumped and Hannah’s moment of being special lasted a whole seven minutes.

Living across the street from Matt, Hannah witnessed the horrors of his home life. There were beatings, but the things Matt and his brothers experienced at the hands of his stepfather were near killings. The kids skipped school sometimes when the bruises were too bad; they’d wait until their faces healed before returning.

At night, through the illuminated windows, Hannah saw Matt taking the majority of the abuse to prevent one of his younger brothers from getting it. The beatings came with a stick, a rock, a wrench, or anything the stepfather might have in his hand.

The worst came on the day Hannah heard Matt getting yelled at for not cleaning up after the dogs in the back yard. Hannah was jump roping on her front sidewalk and watched his stepfather exit the house with two slices of bread, shovel poop onto it, and reenter the house, screaming, “Eat it.” Minutes later, Matt rushed out of the back door, gagging and vomiting.

The crush Hannah developed on Matt was inevitable. Many of her days were spent spying on him. The view she had from upstairs covered most of his yard and the surrounding woods, but was filtered by the sheer curtains in her bedroom. Matt spent a lot of time outside, playing baseball with his younger brothers. In the back of their house, there was a wire dog kennel pieced together with old, gray wood scraps. The small area housed nearly two dozen dogs, and at least double the number of ratty-furred cats lurked just beyond the kennel fencing, teasing the dogs into endless barking fits.

The previous year, Hannah had sat behind Matt in English class and one time, the tag on his sweatshirt stuck out. She took note of the size and wrote it down in her notes about O. Henry. An urge to take care of Matt lurked within Hannah. Nearly every day, Matt wore the same dirty, holed sweatshirt. Hannah wanted to buy him a new one, but wondered if it would offend him. Most of her notebooks were decorated with his name and hearts. Once, a loose page fell out of her tablet onto the bus floor. One of the younger boys picked it up and gave it to Matt. Minutes later, Matt called Hannah’s name. When she turned around in her vinyl bus seat, her eyes widened with horror as she saw him holding up a piece of paper with “Matt + Hannah” scrawled i
n her handwriting. With all of the kids on the bus watching, Matt tore the paper in half several times. Hannah slunk down into her seat, mortified by the rejection everyone witnessed. When the bus driver reached their stop and swung the doors open, she bound off of the bus and ran to her house. Accepting Matt didn’t like her back was difficult, but experiencing his torment made it worse.

*

Olivia’s parents were taking her to Italy for a two week vacation and she announced it the day Hannah’s mom had a cookout for the kids. Everyone was surprised to hear about the trip, not because her parents didn’t have the money, but because her father rarely took days off of work, much less two full weeks.

“Hey Livie, do you think your parents would mind if we still swam in your pool when you were away?” Matt asked as he rotated a golden weed between his fingers, rocking back and forth on his bike casually. The sun caught the red tones in his brown hair and made him squint his light blue eyes.

“I’m not sure. I can ask.”

“No!” Brian exclaimed. “Don’t ask. If you don’t ask, they can’t say no.”

“True,” Joel said. “We can just sneak in and pretend we didn’t know it wasn’t okay until someone catches us.”

Everyone started nodding their heads.

“Okay, just remember—the pool guy comes on Tuesdays and don’t leave any evidence behind,” Olivia said.

“What’s in Italy anyway?” Hannah asked. “Isn’t the Pope in Italy?”

“Shut up. Olivia’s not Catholic and her parents wouldn’t make her do something so stupid,” Matt said.

“Um, I don’t know. My mom said we’ll shop and sig
htsee, probably eat lots of interesting food. I guess I’ll have to let you know.”

“You’ll come back all fat and stuff,” Joel joked.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Olivia said. “I’ll race you to the back of the cemetery.”

Everyone took off on their bikes with Olivia in the lead, heading for the cemetery. The volunteer from the church had just cut the grass two weeks ago and it was still low enough to ride bikes through.

The group rode between the headstones, chasing and dodging one another. Matt watched Olivia’s back tire because he rode so close behind her. Hannah swerved out of the riding loop and paused under the shade of the trees and watched. All of the boys were chasing Olivia, and she understood why; she looked like a doll, or an angel—maybe an angel doll.

“Did your fatty legs get too tired?” Matt shouted at Hannah. Her cheeks fired red and she kicked off after him.

“Hey! Don’t say that,” Olivia said, pulling out from the circle, with the other boys stopping behind her.

Matt raced faster than Hannah, pulling ahead of her, laughing. She knew she didn’t have a chance to catch him, so she slowed to a stop.

“I gotta head home. It’s almost dinner time,” Joel said.

“Yeah, me too,” Brian said, following Joel.

Hannah didn’t say anything, but followed the boys out, cycling down the road. She paused and looked back. Matt got off of his bike and was standing, talking to Olivia. His head hung down and he kicked some rocks with his sneaker. His shoes had been duct taped together since springtime and his toes were beginning to stick out again. Hannah lagged behind, waiting for Olivia. She wondered if Matt was apologizing to Olivia for his behavior. All of the boys offered their apologies to Olivia when they made fun of Hannah—not because they were sorry, but because they wanted her approval.

Hannah was almost home when she heard someone peddling furiously behind her. Before she had a chance to turn around and look, Matt whizzed past her, kicking up dust and rocks behind him. Hannah stopped to avoid the la
rge dust cloud and peered over her shoulder. Olivia steadily pedaled towards Hannah.

“What was that about?” Hannah asked.

“Nothing, he’s just upset.”

“Upset about what?”

“He asked me to go out with him and I turned him down.”

“Oh,” Hannah said, looking at the ground. It was another thing Olivia experienced first.

“Hannah, don’t tell anyone. He’s so embarrassed. Plus I think he’s mad at you.”

“Why me?”

“Because I told him I wouldn’t go out with someone who calls my best friend names.”

“You said that?”