What it Takes to Survive Read online

  What it Takes to Survive

  by Megan Prevost

  Copyright © Megan Prevost, 2018

  First Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Ten Seconds

  Voices

  Rich People

  Don’t Blink

  About the Author

  Ten Seconds

  “I knew you were a wimp, but damn, it’s just water,” Ethan said. He stood with his arms crossed, a few feet from the hole in the ice. Ethan had driven the three of them out onto the frozen lake. Noah and Lyle had watched while he cut through the ice. He created a hole big enough for a person to fit through.

  The wind bit at their faces, it was almost midnight and the temperature crept below zero. The three stood to the side of the lake where the ice was the thickest. The only light came from Ethan’s headlights.

  Lyle cowered away from the freshly carved hole. “How cold do you think it’ll be?” Lyle said. He inched closer and peered into the water below.

  “Pretty cold,” Noah put his hand on Lyle’s shoulder. “But it’s safe, we’ve all done it. Just ten seconds and then you can get out. It’s not that bad.”

  “You wanna hang with us, don’t you?” Ethan said. He raised an eyebrow at the boy across from him.

  Lyle nodded. His arms were covered in goosebumps, prickled hair stood on end. He took a step towards the carved-out hole in the ice. Another step. He stood on the edge and looked down into the dark lake.

  He was about to jump before Ethan stepped in.

  “Wait,” Ethan said, he held up his hand.

  Lyle’s chest fell with a sigh of relief.

  “Jumpin’ in clothes on, that’s easy. You gotta do in just your boxers, then it’s really a challenge.” Ethan said. “Besides, that’s what we all had to do. It’s only fair you do it the same way.”

  Lyle turned to Noah for a look of approval. Noah nodded.

  “Just ten seconds,” Noah said. He looked down at his phone, a timer ready.

  Lyle stripped down to just his boxers, he left his shirt and pants in a pile next to him, untied his shoes and kicked those off to the side as well. He put his legs into the water and lowered himself slowly into the icy water. His mouth pursed together and his eyelids slammed shut, the water like pin pricks on every inch of his skin. Lyle fully submerged himself but kept one hand gripped to the edge of the ice just in case.

  Ethan paced around the hole and stopped where Lyle’s hand was. He nudged it over with his boot. His smile was colder than the ice.

  Ethan looked at Noah, “Start the timer.” Ethan stood next to the pile of Lyle’s clothes and watched as the boy before him struggled against the freezing temperature.

  “This is too far man,” Noah said, his voice quiet. “You didn’t make me do shit when I wanted to be your friend.”

  Ethan laughed and shook his head. “I wanted to be your friend. You think we’re really letting this kid anywhere near us at school tomorrow? Nah, no chance in hell.”

  “Guys!” Lyle said, his voice dissipated as his head bobbed underwater. He struggled to reach the surface, “Guys, I can’t feel my legs.”

  Ethan tapped the pause button on Noah’s phone. “You’re doing great, just a few more seconds.”

  Noah looked at Ethan. “Dude, you gotta help him, he’s barely staying above water.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Ethan said.

  Noah turned back to watch Lyle. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You better hope you’re right.”

  Lyle struggled as he tried to reach for the ledge of ice so he could pull himself back out. He latched one hand onto the side. “I’m done,” Lyle said. He held himself up and tried to get out of the water. “It’s been ten seconds. More probably.” His words fell apart. They caught in his throat, interrupted by teeth that wouldn’t stay together.

  Noah moved to help him out of the water. Ethan lifted his arm up to stop Noah from walking any further.

  Ethan walked to the edge of the water and waited for Lyle to get out. “You did good, kid.” He held out his hand to pull him out.

  Lyle grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled himself out of the water. Lyle sat on the edge with his arms wrapped around his legs. “So, I’m in, right?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ethan said. He looked at Noah and then back to Lyle. “We’ll discuss it and get back to you.” The look of disbelief on Lyle’s face brought a smile to Ethan’s. Ethan grabbed the pile of clothes and tossed them to Lyle. He miscalculated just enough so they landed with a splash in the water next to him. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

  Ethan stood up from his crouched position on the ground and walked back to his truck.

  In disbelief, Noah stood statue still.

  “Come on, man,” Ethan said. He slammed the truck door closed. After he waited for Noah (who didn’t move an inch) for a minute, he took off.

  “Thanks, Noah,” Lyle said. His teeth chattered together loud enough to scare away the fish.

  “Don’t thank me. We’re both fucked now,” Noah said.

  Voices

  I hear his voice all the time. It hangs over me, a grand piano dangling by a thread. I’m pretty sure he finds joy in watching me make bad decisions. He’s always quick to point them out. I fall victim to his incessant, condescending attitude each time I slip up.

  You shouldn’t stay out that late.

  Mom would never approve of this.

  That’s too much alcohol, Katy. Even I didn’t drink that much.

  You shouldn’t be at a party on a school night. You do want to get into college, don’t you?

  An F? Last year you never would have gotten an F.

  He talks to me now more than he ever used to. I like to pretend I’m over his death. I like to believe that I have moved on. I’ll wake up in the fresh fog of a new day, only to be greeted by the same words, a gentle reminder that I’ll never be over it.

  You still miss me, don’t you?

  I can’t get him out of my head. No matter how hard I try, he’s always there. When I wake up, when I go to bed, and every moment in between.

  The start of my day always comes with a groan and the sound of his voice dragging me out of bed and into the kitchen.

  Mom is probably already waiting for you. You’re going to be late for school if you don’t get up now.

  I move through the world in a haze. My mind is static on a television screen, rocks in a blender set to high. I find myself in new places, yet I never remember how I got there. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe my fucked-up mind has taken away the pieces of my life it doesn’t consider important.

  I sit at the table in different clothes. My hair has not been brushed and instead is pulled back in a ratty ponytail. I don’t care.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom says.

  She hands me a cup of coffee and kisses me on the forehead.

  I nod, a smile appears on my lips uninvited.

  You should talk to her, she misses you. You’re not even making an effort.

  I want to reply. I wonder if he would listen. I’ve thought about arguing the voice away, but maybe that would make me look crazy. I’m not crazy.
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  My eyes shift around the room, they fall on the pictures of him from the war. He wears a camouflage jacket and a smile that I don’t recognize.

  Mom hums faintly in the kitchen, she smiles too. I can’t figure out her secret. I don’t understand the happiness of others, how they can move on so quickly, act happy so fast. Especially Mom, humming over a lost son isn’t something I can wrap my head around.

  She’s moved on. You should too.

  I dig my nails into my palms, leaving half-moons behind. I try to think of a way to rid my body of this anger. The train in my mind derails into a forest of dark thought. I let it.

  The thoughts stop spiraling when Mom opens her mouth again.

  “Something came in the mail this morning,” she says. Her voice is a silhouette of what it used to be. I don’t look her in the eyes, I’m afraid of what I might find there. She’s worn. I don’t know how she keeps herself going. I certainly stopped trying, or maybe I never started in the first place.

  She places her hand on my shoulder and I flinch under her touch.

  “What is it?” I ask. My voice is soft, it doesn’t match the fire under my skin.

  “Just look.”

  Mom slides a box across the table. Camouflage pokes over the top.

  I stand up. “What is that?” I pull the box close to me and suck in a breath at the sight of his name embroidered on the coat. My fingers run over the stitching.

  “I think he would have wanted you to have it.”

  I rip the jacket out of its box and hold it close to my chest.

  Looks like you don’t need me anymore.

  It smells of him, a scent I thought I had long forgotten.

  Rich People

  “It’s locked.” Grant jiggled the doorknob. With a groan, he dropped his hands in defeat. “I thought you said this was going to be easy.”

  “No shit, it’s locked.” Terra stood behind him with her arms crossed over her chest. She tapped her foot and checked her watch. “It wouldn’t be called breaking and entering if the door was unlocked. We shouldn’t even be doing this.”

  Grant glared at her. “We have to do it.”

  Terra and Grant stood on the front porch of a grand house. The driveway was lined with stones and lamp posts. The lights inside the house were off and there were no cars in the driveway. Everything was silent, except Terra, all scoffs and complaints.

  Terra shoved Grant out of the way. He knocked into the porch railing and scowled.

  Kneeled to the ground, Terra pulled a pin out of her hair. When Grant looked at her with disapproval she returned his scowl. “I’m trying.”

  “Will you kids stop fighting already?” Angelica said. She stood a few feet behind them, at the foot of the porch. With a stone in her hand and a grimace on her lips, she took a few steps forward. “You guys really want to get into this house?”

  Grant and Terra nodded. Terra had given up trying to use the bobby pin on the lock.

  “Alright, remember you agreed to this.” Angelica tightened her grip on the stone and then threw it. The stone spiraled out of her hand. Glass exploded from the window with a crash. Shards scatted onto the floor inside. The three looked up to see if any lights turned on. They exchanged worried glances. Nothing happened.

  “Someone give me a leg up.” Angelica walked over to the shattered window, just out of her reach.

  Grant jumped off the side of the porch and landed with a soft thud on the ground next to Angelica. He kneeled in the dirt while Angelica placed her heavy boot on his shoulder. One and then the other.

  “Higher!” Angelica said as she grasped for ledge of the window.

  Grant pushed her up higher.

  Angelica grabbed the ledge and pulled herself up. A piece of stray glass sliced through the palm of her hand and a few drops fell onto the floor. She walked around to the front door and unlocked it. Grant and Terra slid inside.

  Their eyes took in the giant house, all grace and glory.

  “It’s even bigger on the inside. How is that even possible?” Grant asked. He ran his fingers along the countertops.

  “Fuck rich people, honestly.” Angelica had already made her way into the kitchen. She opened cabinets, pulled food down on the counter. She took her backpack off and began to fill it with loaves of bread and cans of soup. “I bet their housekeeper makes all their food for them.”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Terra said. She looked at all the food, her stomach grumbled in respond.

  Grant was emptying cabinets as well.

  “Come on, Terra. Get the good stuff from the fridge,” Angelica said.

  Terra rocked back and forth on her heels for a few seconds before she stepped foot in the kitchen. She found herself unable to concentrate, her eyes wandering instead, so much to look at.

  Angelica snapped her fingers. “Come on.”

  The fridge was full of food. Terra stood in the open door, dumfounded. She began to shove things into her bag. Eggs, salads, milk, everything she could fit inside. Her stomach wouldn’t stop gurgling.

  At the sound of sirens, the three looked up from their bags.

  “We gotta go.” Angelica zipped her bag and threw it on her back. The others did the same.

  They bolted toward the door together, on each other’s heels. Angelica noticed the blood speckled on the ground but kept running. They slammed the door behind them and made their way down the street.

  The sirens faded into the background. Terra tried to stop to collect her breath but Angelica grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her along.

  “Don’t stop,” Angelica said through ragged breaths.

  Just as a police car whizzed by, the three slid behind a diner that had been closed for years. They all slunk to the ground and tried to catch their breath.

  “I knew we shouldn’t have done it,” Terra said.

  “We didn’t get caught.” Angelica put her bag on the ground in front of her. She passed around portions of bread to Terra and Grant. They all inhaled it, like they had never tasted something so delicious before.

  The gurgling of Terra’s stomach stopped.

  “Same time next week?” Angelica asked. She pushed her backpack behind a dumpster and pulled out some raggedy pillows and blankets. She handed a set to each of them. She wrapped an old sheet around her bloody hand.

  “Same time next week,” Grant agreed.

  Angelica peered over her pillow at Terra. “You in?”

  “Guess so.”

  Don’t Blink

  Mac hummed as he entered the small house. He tossed his bag onto the couch and walked into the hall. The soft melody dropped from the air when he spotted his sister.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Mac kneeled at the side of the girl. “What did you see, Lora?” He placed his hand on her shoulder. The girl stood still, not a muscle in her threatened to shake. Mac looked into her eyes.

  She raised her arm, slow and calculated like it was the only thing her body was ever meant to do. After a beat her arm fall drowsily back to her side.

  Behind a thick mahogany door, cracked with a sliver of light streaming into the hall, a woman sat crumpled in a ball. Mac looked at the beam of light, the only half visible woman, then looked back to Lora.

  “Fighting. Again,” Lora said. The nails on her right hand were torn, peeled apart at the seams. They bled at the stubs, not much left to toy with.

  The older boy got to his feet. He turned from Lora and pushed his way through the large door.

  “Mom.” Mac stood with his arms crossed. His glance flicked from Lora back to his mother’s eyes. Blood spilled from a gash on her jaw, dripped down her neck. Her white blouse had turned an ugly shade of pink.

  When she didn’t respond, Max let out a long sigh. “What happened?” His voice was hushed, just soft enough that Lora couldn’t hear him from the hall.

  She ignored his question. Words fell out of her mouth, fell to the ground heavy and flat. “Montgomery’s still here, out there.” Her hands ran u
p and down her arms in attempt to stop herself from shaking. It didn’t help.

  “With Lora? Fuck. Fuck.” Mac paced back and forth. “He can’t be here.” His hands tightened into fists and then relaxed again. “I can’t deal with this, I don’t know how to handle him when he’s like this.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes as a response.

  He left her behind and slipped out of the room. “Lora?” he said. His voice was hushed at first, terror in his eyes as he turned each corner. Faced with an empty hall, he checked behind doors, called her name again and again, louder each time.

  He stopped in his tracks at her voice. He took a few steps back and watched from behind the door frame, careful to stay out of sight.

  “Let go of me!” Lora said. Her voice was wet with tears that fell from her eyes. They fell hard and fast and splashed onto the tile. “Dad, please!”

  Mac took quiet steps into the kitchen. He pulled a drawer open and rummaged around inside, careful not to make too much noise. His hand found a solid metal handle, a heavy knife with a long sharp edge.

  He looked up as Montgomery shoved Lora to the ground. “You’re all worthless. I slave away every single god damn day for the three of you.” Montgomery gestured wildly around the kitchen. “For what?” His eyes reflected the wild light of the moon. His words slurred, sloshed around in the air. “For nothing. You’re ungrateful scum.” He lifted his boot high into the air.

  “Stop!” the crying woman yelled. She had inserted herself between Montgomery and Lora. “Get out.” Her voice shook, fear coated with a strength that wasn’t quite strong enough.

  Montgomery stepped close to the woman. “You fucking bitch. You ruin everything.”

  Lora squirmed, stood up off the floor and backed away into the hall behind Mac. Montgomery turned his focus from their mother and looked dead into Mac’s eyes. “And you.” His voice was a snarl taken over by the thick scent of alcohol. He glanced at the knife. “You don’t have the guts.”