Atonement

{Thirteen} Fall to Pieces in 3...2...

“My mouth is dry with words I cannot verbalize.”

-We Are Broken,

Paramore

   We rode for hours, stopped a few times to rest the horses, and then camped for the night. For three days we did this. Three days. Within those three times we had attempted to go home zero times. It certainly wasn’t because we were never alone. Cap hardly slept—you could see the weary in his eyes—but even so there were times we could be alone to try. Did I suggest thing to Russ? Yes. Did he ever listen to me? Negatory.

  “It’s too risky,” he’d say tiredly.

  It wasn’t that risky. Besides, even if it was, I was tired of this. I was tired of these itchy pants I was clearly allergic to and I was tired of sleeping on a damp floor. The late September nights were getting unforgiving. Soon it’d be October and we’d still be headed for Tennessee. I was getting impatient with Russ.

  Clearly, for whatever reason, he wanted to stay. He could say all day long, ‘til he was blue in the face, how it was risky and how he was afraid of getting stuck, but I knew when he was lying. His power wasn’t that unpredictable. It was worth the risk! Couldn’t he see I was dying here? I just wanted to go home and be with my family again.

  My brother, the budding historian, was finally seeing his ability as a gift. I was happy for him, of course, to be able to appreciate history. However, he could appreciate it later. Perhaps we could revisit a different state with different people? I could guarantee I would not be getting attached anymore. Honestly, though, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be traveling back in time again. It was too personal for me. I couldn’t be detached. Clearly. I just couldn’t force myself to stand back and let history unfold. It didn’t seem fair. Why have this amazing gift and only stand back and watch? Major rip-off.

  And then there was Cap. Silent, stoic Cap. We barely spoke. If we did, it was awkward small talk and only out of necessity. Cap and Russ, on the other hand, seemed to be best buddies now. I usually ignored them, wishing I had my cell phone; wishing I had anything to occupy my time.

  Really, it was so unnecessary to pay attention to anything that was going on lately. I could feel myself changing—and not in a good way. My heart was feeling the beginning stings of ice circling around its outer edges. I let it creep closer and closer, letting it block out the hurt I was feeling. I hardly thought about things like a future or love or whatever. If anyone bothered to pay me any heed, they’d see I was a bit depressed. And why shouldn’t I be? I was in a strange land, in a strange time, and away from my family and future—also that family had lied for me for eighteen years of my life. And the only thing that’s kept that panic and depression away wanted nothing to do with me.

  Who the hell wouldn’t be depressed?

  So I decided to brood. For three days I sat behind Russ when we rode in the daytime and slept far away from them both when it was time to rest—never saying a word. The first day, Russ asked me constantly what was wrong and if I was mad at him. The second day he asked me about every three hours or so. By the third day, however, he was sick of my attitude and decided to put on one of his own. So it’d been a great three days of silent brooding from the three of us.