The Summer Camp Diaries

• Braden •

Implied Triggery Content in the first couple paragraphs.

6.11.16
5:43 am

Braden.
Braden.
Answer me right now.
I swear. Please answer me. Please I'm worried.
I swear to God, I'm telling your parents if you don't answer me.
I knew this wasn't a good idea.
Please.
Please please please
Just answer me.
Let me know you're alive.

Life is a bitch, and then you die.

    Somebody said that, or some variation of that at some point. Frankly, I wasn't too pleased with any part of the sentiment. I woke up the next morning realizing that I hadn't woken up, because for one to be able to wake up, one first has to be asleep. Instead, I spent the remainder of the night hunched forward with my back against the wall, all the while trying to keep the blood off my sheets.

    I switched off the lights when I heard voices approaching the cabin, some couple hours later. None of the guys looked up in my direction, blatantly not caring that I wasn't asleep. Even if they did care about the vacant expression in my eyes or the faint shadow of rubbed away  blood on my hands, I wouldn't have laid down. I wouldn't have pretended to sleep.

    Instead I just sat there in the deepest corner of the bottom bunk farthest away from the door, leaning against a dark towel with my back against the wall, finding eternal gratefulness that the bear cabin t-shirts were black.

    The smoke eventually cleared around six the next morning, but I still wasn't in the best mood to text Ria back. I sent her a quick something to let her know I was alive, although with what words I couldn't remember. In fact, for all I did remember, it could have been a meme of a turtle playing the trumpet.

    It was around the same time that I finally drifted off to sleep. Six in the morning. Yes my sleeping schedule is amazing, I know. No sooner was I asleep, did I find myself getting smacked in the face with a t-shirt. "Yo! You're oversleeping! C'mon, get up before Travis gets in here and makes you get up!"

    I cracked my eyes open to find the same kid from yesterday who had made me sign the poster, staring back down at me. I turned over, pulled the pillow over my head and muttered something along the lines of, "get outta here before I shank ya with a candle."

    Tirrel scoffed. "Don't get fresh with me, beachboy --"

    "Beachboy?" I opened my eyes one by one. "I'm from Traverse City, Michigan."

    "Michigan has beaches," he rolled his eyes...well it was true. "I'm trying to save your ass before Travis rounds you up and makes sure Rosie gives you a lecture about staying out late -- trust me, he'll do it."

    "I'd like to see him try. I've got a..." I lifted my head to find my nearest murder weapon. "Pillow," I decided. "Yeah, I've got a pillow and I know how to use it. " I pointed a two fingered gun at Tirrel. "They're not just for killing girls, you know."

    "Are you gonna get up or what?"

    "I'm up," I sighed and threw the pillow aside. "Happy?"

    "Sure," he nodded. Tirrel looked over his shoulder at the call of his name. "See you later...."

    "Braden," I supply.

    "Yeah, bad with names," he pointed at his head. "Well see you later, Braden."

    "Later," I lifted my hand then let it fall back onto my knee. A low moan cut into my breath as I flexed my shoulders, and again when I forced myself to my feet. The rest of the cabin was out going to breakfast, taking showers, sneaking into the girl cabin, and whatever else normal people do in the morning. With no regard to what normal people did, I grabbed my duffle bag out from under my bunk, laced up my sneakers and made my way to the back of the cabin, where, for the past couple days or so, I found that I could have a couple hours to myself, mentally choreographing a guard feature that I could present to the instructor in August (after I escaped from this place), and still somehow hear the announcements being said over breakfast.