Chapter 19 – be able

Guilty. Guilty. Seven times guilty. I can’t argue with popular opinion. Might as well hate myself too. I’ve done a great job of messing up everything. This life. My life. “Courtney Manchester Bites!” Broadcast it to the world for all I care.

I suck in air but it brings no relief.

So much for loving Christians.

My lungs continue to feel empty.

Hypocrites. Daniel gave up his summer vacation to find and then condemn me. All that mess in the church was a trap. He stared and smiled and winked to trick me. For a split second, I believed I could be loved, forgiven even. What a joke.

Water in the creek pushes its way down the mountain. Gravity forces it into a river and then a lake or ocean. It can’t win. I wipe my face and open the book again.

Don’t cry, you idiot, nothing’s changed.

The same old Daniel, the same old trash. They are all a bunch of fakes, Jackson and Mario and Daniel, whatever. A religious gang tearing people down. They want to blame me. But what about them? They aren’t so innocent.

My fingers tighten against the soft page. The Bible lays open in my lap. Through blurry eyes, I stare at the crumpled words of hate. My lungs rise and fall with such force that I give into the rage.

Pride.

Big deal.

Everyone lied.

Who cared? Honestly.

This outdated dribble contains all the hate the critics accused it of. God is a war-monger. I grab the page near the seam and rip it straight down. I crumple the horrible words into a tight fist and chuck it to the ground.

The judgmental brethren can kiss my backside. The hate-mongers and their backward deity that promises love and peace can eat it. I rip out another page and ball it up.

A page. A person.

A page, an injury.

Take that Daniel.

Take that Dad.

Take that GOD!

In rapid fire, I litter the forest. I howl at the birds and rabbits and every living creature who dares approach. “I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you!”

My ankle beeps twice. Rowena joins the game. So what! She can’t do anything, locked in her secure room surrounded by monitors instead of windows. What a sick life.

“You want to watch? Go ahead!”

It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it. The rules. The Center. The guards.

“You want a show?” I shout at the camera. “You want to play?” I throw the next page at the camera and the next. “You get your jollies sitting in a room all day watching us suffer. You want to be God? Pathetic losers. I feel sorry for you.” The pages don’t have enough weight to reach the camera bolted to the high branches so I fling the whole book. “Be God if you want. Do you think I care? Do you think it matters? You watch me and judge me and hate me like the rest of the world.” Fire courses through my veins. My arms stiffen next to my side. With every muscle tight, I scream, “Go ahead!”

My eyes sting.

My lungs hurt for air.

As the sun sets, I vent at the guard and the creek and the world. “I’m tired of this stupid place. I’m done. No more hoop jumping. I’m not some trained dog!” I march in front of the bench. “Go here.” I pace back. “Do this.” I kick a rock. “For what? Has anyone taken a single, solitary second to see what I wanted? What I needed? No! None of you cared.”

I pick up a rock and throw it at the blinking red light. “You hate me? I’ll give you hate.” The first stone bounces off a limb. The second clips the edge of the camera. “You want to destroy me? Go ahead, but I know how to kick back. I know how to defend myself.”

The Shackle on my ankle emits a long buzz. “Shut up!”

The furnace in my blood intensifies. “You don’t scare me.” I grab the device and try to tear it from my ankle, but the Velcro is like steel. A thin line of blood circles my leg, but it doesn’t hurt. I yank it harder, but the device won’t give. “Seriously?” I pick up a stone the size of my fist. 

The first swing at The Shackle sends a vibration through my bones. This time my brain registers the pain and I howl like a wounded animal. An ache throbs with my pulse. Great. I hop on one leg for a moment until I can put my weight on it again. Now, I know why caged animals stalk back and forth.

I grab at limbs and leaves taking out my fury on the surrounding forest until I can breathe without panting. A tree accepts my weight when I’m done. The bark scratches my forehead. I’m ready for calm until I hear the crunch of boots on pine needles.