Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FIVE. SUMMER MEMORIES EAT ME ALIVE
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There's a bitter taste in Lacy's mouth that's lingered ever since she was taken. It's gritty, almost metallic tasting, like blood's filling her mouth but not actually there. She tastes it when she swallows. It makes her gag. Sometimes she smells it. It takes over her life sometimes. She can't sleep because of it. It makes her cry. It appears whenever she thinks of the horrific tragedies she had to endure while being trapped in that room, her mouth sewn and arms shackled, or when she accidentally cuts herself and bleeds, or when she thinks about everything she was forced to leave behind and now forced to face again.
Lacy gets that bitter taste in her mouth when she thinks about volleyball.
She'd been playing the sport since seventh grade. She was tall even for a thirteen-year-old, one of the tallest on the team still yet, and Coach Loren thought she'd be a perfect placement. She was first, Kayla came second, Daphne was third. A perfect group of three. They were the popular girls: kind, good grades, star athletes. Lacy felt like she had the perfect life. She had all her ducks in a row. One day she'll ask God why he didn't answer her prayers in that room. God, it's me again. It's me again. It's me again. It's me again. It's me again. It's me again.
Their photos were put on display in a case in the hallway. Generations of Beacon Hills volleyball players before them. Lacy stares at herself in black and white, her full name written in black font: Lacy Sophia Austin. Sophia was her mom's name. Daphne stood between her and Kayla, their smiles reaching their ears, arms over each other's shoulders. It was a haunting photo. All of them so happy, so youthful. Lacy knew she'd never be that happy again. She'd never see those smiles again or feel those affectionate touches from her friends. All she had left were photos.
"Lacy Austin?"
She turned her head to the side and Lacy's eyes widened in shock. "Erica?"
Erica Reyes was a sweet girl. Always had been. She was quiet, shy, the kind that made her an easy target for mean people. She was an epileptic. She was bullied. Lacy always liked her even though they didn't speak often. Erica kept to herself because it was easier than having to listen to the nasty things people said about her. But now she stood in front of her tall, beautiful, and confident, wearing clothes Lacy never imagined her to wear. "Is that really you?" Erica voiced, looking her up and down.
