Toxic by Nicole Blanchard

Author:Nicole Blanchard [Blanchard, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-21T18:30:00+00:00

"Need any help?"

I heft my bag over my shoulder and squint at the guy in front of me. I'd been asleep since the last stop, and I don't recognize him so he must have gotten on then.

"Thanks. I've got it."

"Some view, huh?"

He isn't wrong. Even through the blacked-out windows of the bus, Los Angeles is stunning. Crowds of people traverse the sidewalks near the bus depot, and I can't wait to lose myself in them. The isolation of Upper Michigan was so complete that having so many people around should debilitate me with anxiety, but it doesn't. I wait impatiently for the others to disembark, and as soon as my feet hit the pavement, I lift my face to the sun and luxuriate in its warmth and imagine myself being bleached clean by the heat. It helps alleviate the suffocating guilt, but only marginally.

I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to, but it doesn't scare me. The overwhelming relief wars with that guilt and the struggle carries me away from the bus depot and toward the increasingly strong scent of salt on the air. I don't know how long I walk or where I'm going, all I care about is losing myself. Maybe if I can do that, I'll somehow find myself, too.

I hear the waves before I see the beach. The sound of them crashing against the shore fills my head, blocking out the replay of warm blood splattering against the tile, of a bullet tearing into the fragile framework of skin. My knees wobble as I come to a red light. Those around me jostle with impatience, but I pay them no mind. I move forward with the crush as the light changes and let it carry me across the road to the boardwalk.

The weight of my bag digs into my shoulder and knocks rhythmically against my thigh as I stumble my way down the weathered stairs to the spill of brown sugar sand. I kick off my shoes, roll up my pants, and shed the light sweater I'd been using to battle the frigid air conditioner on the bus. After I stow the items in my bag, I bee-line for the surf and sink my toes into the sand with a loud sigh of pleasure.

Maybe I'll be okay, and maybe I won't. Either way, I'm going to stop being the victim and start fighting back. No one will ever make me feel like Vic did again, not even Gracin.

I stay at the beach until my toes are blue from the chill and the beach is nearly empty of families and teenagers. The burner phone I picked up is almost dead, but there's enough life left in it for me to track down a cheap hotel to crash in for the night. On the way there, I snag some fries, a hamburger, and a coke from a street vendor, which turns out to be the best food I may have ever eaten in my entire life.

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