Indigo

To my Literary Soul Mate Katerina Begetis.

I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to edit this book, and not just because you’re the only other person I know who wants to ride neck or nothing across the hills and vales of Scotland.

Thank you, and I love you.

Prologue

You never really know how brave you are.

Until you’re in the heat of the moment, on top of the fire, do you find out what you’re truly capable of. Courage isn’t something your mind can decide on its own. The decision to act lies deep within you, an instinct, and it’s not until you’re left with no other choice, do you find out whether you’ll fight…or fly.

“Do you need anything?” she asks, turning around toward me from the passenger seat. Her red hair is wild, falling into her eyes.

I don’t reply. I haven’t spoken a word in months. She doesn’t seem to notice.

After flicking the last of her cigarette out the open window, she unbuckles her seatbelt amidst a plume of smoke and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll get you a slushy, you love slushies.”

She lets the door close without telling me to stay put. The warnings stopped after the first month or so when they realized that I was too weak, or scared, to try and escape again. They’re right.

I shift slightly in my seat, trying to ease the uncomfortable position. How long have I been sitting? My forehead presses gently against the window as I take in the people coming in and out of the convenience store, some with bags, others on the phone, some in a rush, some not.

I think about jumping out and shouting,
Help Me! Are you still looking for me?! I’m in here!
But I don’t, because I’m numb, and I don’t because I know that he’s watching. I hear a beep and listen as he screws the gas cap back on. A moment later, he’s passing the hood of the car on his way into the store. He glances back for a second, seeking me out with a blank look before turning back around. But just like her, he gives me no warning.

The bottom of my stomach burns like acid at the quick gaze, and my hand instinctively moves to my cheek. My fingers tremble as they run over the rough, scarred skin, and for the thousandth time I swallow back angry tears. I may be a coward, but I won’t cry. If I do, I’ll drown completely.

A mini-van pulls up to the pump behind our car, and I immediately hear giggling when the sliding door pulls open. From the side mirror, I’m able to see a small girl jump out, a purple rabbit clasped to her chest. A teenage boy hops out a second later and goes running for her hand before she can go flying into traffic

“Claire you can’t just run off like that!” the boy scolds, pushing his glasses up his nose as the girl snickers into the rabbit’s fur.

“Listen to your brother honey,” a woman calls, fumbling with her wallet. She grabs a credit card and disappears to the other side of the car. The back of my throat gets thick and my eyes snap shut as a vision of my mother flashes through my mind. I wonder what she’s doing now. I wonder if she’s okay.
Mom
,
mom, mom
, my thoughts scream on repeat.

I watch the boy and his sister, hand in hand, walking to the door. My fingertips move from my face to press against the glass. They have no idea what, or who is inside. That there’s danger. I smother the urge to call out to them, to warn them, but my voice is long gone. Besides, they already have me, and they couldn’t possibly take anyone else here. Not in so public a place.

Closing my eyes, I slump back into the seat. I have to go to the bathroom, but I’ve learned to hold it for hours. The ache comforts me, gives me something else to concentrate on. A rumble of thunder sounds off in the distance, and I open my eyes to see dark blue clouds moving in quickly overhead. A few people pick up their pace to get to their cars before the storm hits. After being secluded for so long, their quick movements jar my senses and knot my stomach.

At the first crack of thunder, a bell chimes above the door, and the little girl and her brother are hurrying back towards the safety of the minivan, the shelter of their mother. Her little legs are working double time to keep up with his larger strides and as if in slow motion, I watch the purple rabbit fall from her hands. She immediately squirms out of her brother’s hold to run back and retrieve it.

“Claire!” her mother cries.

Panic floods through me as I watch a pair of headlights swerving out of the way to avoid hitting her and suddenly, my body is working again. I hop out of the car, tense and quick, like a coil released into a spring, just in time to see the sky flash with lightning and to hear the little girl scream. Her brother snatches her up just in time and swings her out of harm’s way, but she doesn’t stop shouting. It’s a sound of pure terror, and the intensity of emotion wakes up the dormant blood in my veins.

A car door slams, and I hear someone call out.  I can’t stop watching the girl shake in her brother’s arms.
She’s okay, she’s going to be okay,
I chant to myself. The bell on the door chimes again, and as if sensing trouble,
they
spot me right away and start making their way toward me. I realize I’m out of the car, and I internally collapse in on myself, horror filling my belly. I take a few steps back, but it’s too late. They’re coming for me. I’m going to be in so much trouble.

My back hits the car door and I scramble to grab the handle. The little girl is still crying, and I see the three of them making their way back to the van, the girl clutched in her mother’s embrace. They’re only a few feet away now. I want to run to their van, run anywhere, but I’m so frightened, I can’t think rationally. Adrenaline is still racing through my system, at war with the stark fear I’ve felt for months.

“Get in the car,” He growls the words as he makes his way to me. “Get in the car, now.”

I can feel his fury, radiating off him in pulsing red waves. He wants to punish me, but he can’t in front of so many witnesses. My fingers finally clutch the cool metal of the handle, and I pull it open. Before I can I duck into the car, I hear the little girl’s voice.

“Look at her face, mama.”

I feel the woman’s gaze turn to me, her eyes burning into the roughened gnarled skin on one side of my cheek. I take a chance and peek over at her. Her expression has it all, shock, revulsion, pity. She quickly averts her eyes, but something in mine must have struck her, because she glances back with a narrowed gaze.

This is it. This is my moment. My brain is screaming at me to speak up, to tell her who I am, and that I am in desperate need of someone’s help. The words claw at my throat, and in my mind I am screaming at her from the top of my lungs. Terror rushes through me as my body fights itself to say anything.

But I’ve run out of time. Angry fingers press into my arm and I’m shoved towards the car like a criminal.

The mother is still staring at me in confusion, and right before I’m shoved into the backseat, the words find their way out.

“I’m Indigo.”

His sweaty hands press on top of my head as I’m flung back into the car. All I can think of is that she didn’t hear me. Words that were ripped from the bottom of my soul, but not delivered in time. The passenger side door opens and she sits down, automatically turning to me with her familiar snarl. “You stupid bitch,” she hisses. “You stupid, stupid, bitch. You’ve really done it now.”

The sky opens and a sheet of rain hits the car, the sound deafening. I pull my knees up to hide my face, because I know they’re going to kill me this time, I went too far. The driver sides opens and he has the keys in the ignition before his door closes.

And like shelter from a storm, I hear a panicked voice by my window. “Wait!” I hear the mother cry, the sound almost lost in the rain. “Wait!” Her hand bangs on my window, but we’re already rolling through the lot. My whole body quivers violently, and I can’t breathe. A sharp crack of thunder jerks my body, the sound tearing my head from knees just in time to see a peal of lightning so strong it makes the sky look white. The whole lot is immediately plunged into darkness, the electricity a prisoner to the weather.

“God damnit!” he yells over the rain, his arms roughly yanking the wheel. But he loses control and we’re going too fast. We slam into the back of another car and their alarm starts blaring.

The pounding on my window starts up again as if the mother had been chasing our car through the rain. I don’t react, frozen again, because it’s all too much. Hope is too overwhelming and I’ve given up on it long ago. It’s so dark, now, and I can barely hear anything over the crushing pound of my heart. My door flies open and then the mother is there, a foreign presence, grabbing my hand in an attempt to pull me out of the car.

“Don’t touch her!” he yells, his body twists over the driver’s seat, and his meaty hand reaches out to grab at my shirt. “Get the fuck out of my car lady!”

“Oh my god.” the mother screams as she peers into my face. “It is you.”

The mother is much stronger than she looks and I’m wrenched out of my seat. Purple fur fills my vision, and I realize she still has her daughter slung on her hip. Through the darkness, I look beyond and see that a few people have gathered around our car and the one it smashed into. I see another man peering at me, studying my face, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Chaos surrounds me, fills me.

“Are you okay?” a man shouts, his eyes in a horrified squint as he gets a good look at my face. The mother is shouting something at me, but I can’t concentrate on her words.

“He has a gun!” a voice calls out.

I look into the car and see
him
pointing a gun at me, and I know I’m going to die. My breathing slows and I grab the mother’s arm, wishing more than anything in that moment for my own. My head tilts back as a shot cracks through the night.

And I scream.

INDIGO

2.5 years later

“Wait!” I rush out, readjusting the oversized bag on my shoulder. My steps are quick as I hold up a hand to keep the door from closing.

The professor glances up at me, recognition filling his face as he releases the knob. “Indigo,” he smiles warmly. “I was so happy to hear you’d be joining us this semester.”

I suppress my irritation, halting in front of the door. “Sorry I’m late, I got lost.”

Despite it being the truth, the excuse sounds lame, even to me. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he studies me with kind wrinkled eyes through squared red-framed spectacles. Wearing a multicolored tie, orange pants and old running sneakers, he doesn’t look like a typical college professor, but he’s already proved to be the same as everyone else. He feels like he knows me. 

I wait for his eyes to flick to my scar, but he holds them steady. When it comes to the uneven line of crooked, damaged skin running from the top of my left ear to the side of my bottom lip, there are only two reactions. The first is violent shock, aggressive disgust that quickly gets masked by pity. The second is to pretend like it’s not even there, to just ignore the ravaged skin in an attempt to spare my feelings, which ends up making us both uncomfortable. I can immediately tell he’s the latter.

“No harm done,” he says jovially. “It’s the first day, and I’m just getting started. You haven’t missed anything.”

He starts to walk through the door, but stops suddenly, and as if he can’t help himself, he lowers his voice to say, “Let me know if you need anything.”

My lips press together in frustration, “I’m fine.”

He nods imperceptibly, and sweeps his hand in a gesture for me to walk before him.

I chose Fairbanks College because of its small student population and the accredited dance program. It has old New England charm, four distinct seasons, and most importantly, it’s private with barely 2,000 students in attendance at any time. It’s tucked away in upstate New York, a small gem that felt perfect when I found it. But now, as I step over the threshold into the first classroom I’ve entered in over two years, nerves flutter around my stomach and race up my throat, halting me in place. I repress the urge to turn around and run back to my dorm.

No. No running this time. Get it together Olsen.

There are few people in the class, and they collectively turn their heads as I enter. I am late after all, but it feels as if they’re staring because
They
Know
, as if everyone was forewarned that Indigo Olsen was on her way to Fairbanks this year. Wanting to get the worst over with right away, I take a deep breath, lift my face, and steel myself for their reaction.

Someone gasps, and from the corner of my eye I see a girl cover her mouth with her hand. When someone else mutters a curse, I curb the instinctive reaction to cover my cheek and hide away from their prying gazes, but I stop my arm in mid-air. Instead, I force my hand to lift my hair and tuck the long black strands behind my ear, letting each one of them look their fill. There are a couple beats of heavy silence before the Professor clears his throat, and I force my legs to walk toward an empty seat.