Family Storms (Storms 1)

“I know, but she might know something,” he said. “Something more. Well?”

I told him all that Ricky had told me about the party. I used his words to describe why Kiera had wanted the drug. I made a special effort not to sound happy or satisfied.

He nodded. “That’s more or less how Deidre described it. She told me the rest, too,” he added.

“What rest?” Mrs. March asked.

“It appears Sasha was telling us the truth about it all. They did a very cruel, sick thing to her at Kiera’s bidding, I’m afraid.” He turned to me. “I’ll look into how we can get that tattoo off you.”

I saw the mixed feelings in Mrs. March’s face. She was happy for me but devastated about Kiera.

“We’ve got changes to make after this is over,” Mr. March said. “Everything got out of hand. It’s my fault. You were always right, Jordan. I’m sorry.”

She started to cry. He went to her and held her. The two of them looked destroyed. Every part of me wanted to feel good, to feel vindicated and happy about their misery, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying, too. Alena was there in me, I thought. I moved over on the sofa and found Mrs. March’s hand. Mr. March looked at me, and then the two of them embraced me.

It was the way the doctor found us.

The three of us looked up at him.

“She took a severe dosage of this crap,” he began. He was a short, stocky man with a dark brown mustache but a nearly bald head. I thought he looked more like one of those professional wrestlers on television, even in his suit and tie.

“What is it, exactly?” Mr. March asked.

“Technically, gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, known on the street as GHB or just G. It looks like plain water, but if you tasted it, you’d immediately know it wasn’t. So there’s no chance it was a mistake unless someone snuck it into a drink. That happens, but I don’t think so this time.”

“No, it didn’t. You’re right, Mat,” Mr. March said.

“Why do they take it?” Mrs. March asked.

Dr. Kindle laughed. “You have a few days to hear the sociological and psychological explanations for the drug culture? Kids are taking it because it makes them feel energetic, sensual, intoxicated. They grow talkative, high. They even call it Liquid Ecstasy. People who take it often pass out. That’s not unusual with this junk. In street talk, that’s ‘carpeting out’ or ‘scooping out.’ It has a dramatic effect on respiration. If they hadn’t gotten Kiera here quickly, she would most surely have died.”

“How is she now?” Mrs. March asked in a soft, frightened voice.

“We have her breathing stabilized. I can’t tell you exactly how much longer she’ll remain in this coma, but it’s usually not for days or weeks. In most cases, it’s hours. We’re moving her to a private room, and I have a private nurse there already, Donald. We’ll need to do a full evaluation of her, of course, and see if there has been any other organ damage. This is one of those drugs there are not enough statistics on, because it leaves the body after twelve hours. More people have probably died from it than has been reported. Young people,” he added.

“Thanks, Mat,” Mr. March said, rising. “What room is she in?”

“Three-forty. I’ll be up in a little while, too,” he said.

Mrs. March stood up and took her husband’s hand. Then she turned to me and held out her other hand for me. I rose quickly, took it, and walked with them to the elevator.

Our lives really do move in circles, I thought as we went up to Kiera’s room. My life with the Marches had begun with my being in a hospital, and there I was again in a hospital with not much more time before my life with them would end.

Although they had both already seen Kiera, the sight of her in the hospital bed with her body connected to the monitors froze them. When I looked at her, I thought she had begun to fade away. Her rich complexion was washed out. Her skin looked grayer. Her hair was still beautiful, but the loose strands on the pillow reflected the havoc that surely had preceded all of this in the ambulance and the emergency room. Caught in the frenzy to save her life, she had been poked and prodded, tossed and turned, and attached to machinery. She seemed more like a doll that had been violently shaken until parts of it were beginning to detach themselves.

I still wanted to harden my heart against her, but Alena was pushing me forward. I could almost hear her pleading, Help her. Help her.

I went to the side of her bed. Her nurse stood back, and the Marches stood at the foot of the bed. I pulled a chair to the bed and sat, and then I reached for her hand.

“I know the truth about you, Kiera,” I said. “I know you are in more pain than anger, and all you did to me and now have done to yourself was your way of covering up that pain. Don’t be afraid of it anymore. It’s there to clean away your guilt so you can live. Live for your parents. Live for the people who are waiting to love you. And live for Alena.”

I let go of her hand, stood up, and put the chair back.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, Mrs. March,” I said. I was sure they wanted to be alone with their daughter.

Neither of them said anything to me. They watched me leave. I fell asleep for a while in the waiting room. Mrs. March woke me, and for a few moments, I really didn’t know where I was.

“She’s coming out of it,” she said, smiling through happy tears. “She has to be fully evaluated yet, but Dr. Kindle thinks the worst might be over.”