The Sound of Their Presence

Chapter Forty Three: Trauma

Shane's POV

    Back at the motel, Aunt Jillian and I keep watch over Cheyenne. We are letting her sleep off the Rufies.

    "Have anything you want to say to me?" I whisper.

    "Careful, or you will wake Cheyenne up!" Aunt Jill hisses in respomse.

    "I meant about your Russian boyfriend," I do my best to keep from laughing, the moment I have the sentence out.

     She flips me off, then continues, "If I recall correctly, he drugged me. And your girlfriend!"

    "Cheyenne technically isn't my girfriend," I mutter instinctively, but not quiet quietly enough.

    "Whatever. I am going to check the newspapers."

     "Aren't they in Portugese?" I retort.

    "I can still look at the pictures!" Is my aunt's only come back.

     After a few minutes of silence, I start looking through the phonebook in the drawer within the cheap nightstand. First, poeple who I have no clue how to pronounce their names. More impossible to pronounce names. Four hours later, I have decoded some of the names after going through the phonebook several times. 

     "Katrina!" Cheyenne screams. "Catherine!" she screams een louder. Jill drops the newspaper on the cement floor and immediately joins me at Cheyenne's side.

    Cheyenne bolts upright in the hard bed, covered in cold sweat and gasping for air, her blue eyes wide.

    "Are you alright, girly?" Jillian asks.

    Cheyenne just remains in her petrefied state. Moments later, as I am stroking the back of Cheyenne's hand, trying to soother her, Kat rushes in, a mug in her hand. She gives it to Jillian and nods at Cheyenne, giving her a sympathetic look, before running off again.

    "Who are Katrina and Catherine? You mentioned them in your sleep talking before, but I want details this time!"

    "Too harsh, Shane," my aunt shakes her head at me.

    Cheyenne sips the black liquid down, regaining ocntrol of her breath and ceases panting. She shoves the steaming mug in my face, while her own face is contorted and scrunched up comically.

    "It is straight up black coffee," she says, as if this is all the explanation we need. At this, Jill rips it from my hands and chugs it down, a grin spreading across her face when she completes sucking down the brew.

    "Who are Catherine and Katrina?" I insist, but more gently this time.

    "I don't want to talk about them," Is all the response I get.

    "You have to tslk about them sometime," Jillian says softly.

    "If I tell you two about them, will you leav me alone?"

   "Whatever you want, Cheyenne," my aunt offers.

    "Fine," she groans. "They were my sisters." Cheyenne looks between us and starts to sink back under the grey covers, as if this is all the information we wanted from her.

    "Continue, Chey," I press.

    After giving me the dirtiest look ever, Cheyenne sits up and continues. "Katrina was my little sister, Catherine my older. When I was about nine, Katrina was four, and Catherine had just gotten her driver's license. Our parents agreed to let her drive us to a mall that was several hours north of where we lived at the time. We were on our way home when the train went off the tracks." Cheyenne looks distant, pained, like she is reliving the whole experience in her head, again and again. "Catherine was killed on impact."

    "Did Katrina live through it?" Jill asks, redundantly.

    "I wish she hadn't!" Cheyenne shreiks back.

    "Surely you don't mean that-" my aint cuts in.

    "Hear me out! I was in the front with Catherine, so I should have died, too. But Katrina, she was in the hospital longer than me. I just had to get a few stitches from cuts and get glass removed. The car was totalled, but it was hardest to see Katrina. I wish she had immediatley died, for all of our sakes, especially our own.  Her left lung was punctured, as was her liver. They could fix the lung issue, so they thought, because they got to us almost immediately. They were getting  new liver form an organ donor around Katrina's age, but she didn't make it long enough. About three monthes in the hospital on life support. That's how long Katrina lasted! The new liver was going to be ready for her in two days! But the trauma is what killed her." Cheyenne has officially broken down into tears, and I don't know how to respond.

    "Shane," Aunt Jillian starts, "Go to your room."

    "But-"

    "Just go!" She hisses, and wraps an arm around Cheyenne as I back out of the room.