M.A. Kleen

Twenty-five years ago, I self-published The River of Rain, a philosophical exploration of freedom, human nature, and the modern world. To mark its anniversary, I’m releasing a fully revised edition, one chapter every Wednesday. This is the novel as it was meant to be. Continued from Chapter 19.

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Ariana found herself smothered by people on every side. Reporters jostled for photographs of the girl who had been held captive by a wild man for months. Her parents hugged her so tightly she could barely breathe, repeating how much they loved her and how happy they were to have her back as police escorted them to the car. Riding away felt strange. She had grown so used to walking that the speed of the traffic frightened her. More than anything, she wished she were back in Victor’s arms.

Jenny had apologized for kissing him, but it seemed so silly now. Ariana didn’t own Victor. She never had. No one could ever possess him except the wind that wandered through the forest.

As row after row of houses slipped past, Ariana gazed out the window, quietly watching the people outside. Her mother drove while her father sat in the front passenger seat. They passed a group of children laughing as they threw snowballs across their front yard, the fresh snow piled just beyond a white picket fence. Ariana smiled. The smile vanished when the children’s mother burst through the front door, shouting at them with a finger pointed angrily into the air. She looked genuinely upset, though Ariana couldn’t imagine why.

The car suddenly screeched, nearly stopping. Ariana looked up just in time to see another car turn in front of them.

“Asshole!” her mother shouted. “Doesn’t anyone know how to drive?”

Ariana said nothing. They had probably been going too fast anyway.

A little later they pulled into the driveway. Every house on the block looked nearly identical except for the color. Each had the same snow-covered lawn, the same style of garage. A few people shoveled their sidewalks, but otherwise the neighborhood was still.

Ariana’s shoulders sagged. Everything looked so orderly, so much the same, yet she knew it was only a fragile illusion. Behind those walls were fathers drinking too much, parents screaming at each other, children being beaten, kids experimenting with drugs. Before, all of it had seemed terrible but beyond her control. Now it felt strangely distant, like a world she no longer understood.

They stepped out of the car just as the church bell began to ring. Each deep note echoed through the cold air and lingered in her mind.

Everything around her looked familiar, yet she felt no connection to it. As Ariana stepped into the house she had lived in her entire life, it seemed as though she no longer belonged there. The scent that had once meant home now felt foreign. Warm aromas drifted from the kitchen, filling the air with the smell of a home-cooked meal. Bread, cheese, milk, butter, salt… things she hadn’t tasted in more than two months. Her stomach tightened with hunger.

Her parents gave her a few hours alone before unleashing the barrage of questions they had been holding back. Ariana climbed the familiar staircase as though she were walking through a dream and made her way to the bathroom. She turned the faucet, watching the bathtub slowly fill. The trickling water reminded her of the waterfall and the bathing pool she had built in the cave. But this required no effort. There was no satisfaction in simply turning a handle.

She undressed and eased herself into the lukewarm water. It, too, disappointed her. The temperature never changed. The water never surged or fought against her. There was no current, no stone beneath her feet, no scent of pine or damp earth. The wilderness was absent. Only then did Ariana realize how unnaturally quiet the house was. Before, she had never noticed the silence. Now it pressed against her until it became almost unbearable.

Her thoughts drifted back to the questions the police had asked about Victor. She had told them she killed him to escape. It was a blatant lie, but they would never have understood the truth.

“You were very brave,” they had told her. “The ordeal must have been horrible.”

Others wanted to know how she had survived or whether Victor had abused her. She simply shook her head.

To them she was the helpless girl rescued from a savage. A victim. A headline. She realized that very few of them truly cared who she was or what she had experienced. They cared about appearing concerned because that was what decent people were expected to do. Everything was about perception.

When she was finally clean, Ariana stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection. She had never felt so exposed. The girl looking back at her was little more than skin and muscle stretched over bone. Shame washed over her.

It wasn’t just the dirt that had disappeared down the drain. Somewhere between the cave and this bathroom, everything she had become seemed to have been washed away as well. She was Ariana again, the American girl who had gone missing, folded back into a world of people who all looked, dressed, and acted the same. She felt alone in a sea of smiling faces. Everyone treated her like an exhibit at a zoo or a frightened child who needed constant reassurance. She wondered if this was how people had made Victor feel before he disappeared into the forest.

She went to her bedroom and rummaged through the dresser for something to wear. Outfit after outfit emerged from the drawers, and she could hardly believe she had ever dressed that way. She held up a tiny tank top and winced. Had she really needed so much attention? Nearly every piece of clothing seemed designed to show off her body, demanding to be noticed. Bright colors. Empty slogans. One shirt read, I’m a naughty girl. She frowned at it. She wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to mean anymore.

At last she settled on the plainest clothes she could find and went downstairs to face her family.

Her mother, father, and little brother sat waiting on the far side of the round kitchen table. There was an empty chair across from them. Even before she sat down, Ariana felt like the outsider.

“We’re so glad you’re back,” her mother said for what had to be the hundredth time that day.

“We all are,” her father added. “If you’re feeling up to it, you can go back to school tomorrow. If not, stay home as long as you need.”

Ariana said nothing.

“Well…” he muttered, clearing his throat.

“How are you feeling?” her mother asked. Her face pleaded for an answer.

“Fine.”

The silence that followed seemed to bother her parents more than the answer itself. It was as though a conversation couldn’t exist unless everyone kept talking.

“Honey,” her mother said, her smile fading, “we think you should see a doctor. Just to make sure you’re all right.”

“Like a shrink?” Ariana snapped.

“No, a psychologist,” her father corrected gently. “We’re worried you might have some things to work through after everything you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated flatly.

Her parents exchanged uneasy glances, but their strained smiles never quite disappeared.

“Well… you don’t seem very happy,” her mother said. “I know you’re tired and you’ve been through a lot…”

“Yes,” Ariana interrupted. “I am tired. I’m going to bed.”

Her mother started to speak, but her father caught her eye and gave a slight shake of his head. She shot him an irritated glance, then let Ariana go.

Ariana rose from the lonely chair and climbed the carpeted stairs to her room. It no longer felt like hers. It belonged to another girl, one she barely recognized anymore. Everything seemed childish: the stuffed animals, the oversized plush toys, the bright decorations. If she had wandered in without knowing better, she would have thought a little girl lived there.

The more she thought about it, the more childish everyone around her seemed. Her parents deceived themselves every day. Who was her mother trying to fool, spending her life behind an office desk? Didn’t she realize her family needed her more than strangers ever could? And her father… what a hollow, spineless man he was. He let her mother make every decision. No wonder she had grown up so misguided only three months earlier. He could never have survived the life Victor had lived.

The thoughts gathered into an angry storm she couldn’t quiet.

At last she slipped beneath the soft pink blankets and lay perfectly still, staring into the darkness.

Her mind wandered back over the past weeks, from the moment Victor had found her beside the wrecked bus to that final day when she killed him in a burst of emotion. She no longer felt guilty for what she had done. If anything, she believed Victor would have understood. Perhaps he would even have welcomed it. Returning to society would have destroyed him far more cruelly than death ever could.

There had been hunger, fear, and hardship, but if someone had offered her the chance to live those months again, she would have accepted without hesitation.

Victor was still alive inside her memories. She carried him with her wherever she went.

That night, Ariana fell asleep with him in her arms once more.

*         *         *

The pale glow of the television cast an eerie light across the living room, reflected in the watcher’s eyes. Beside the smiling news anchor, images flashed across the screen: police loading a body bag into a vehicle, two young women wrapped in blankets in the middle of the forest, flashing cameras, yellow crime-scene tape.

The anchor smiled reassuringly, her blonde hair stiff with hairspray, her flawless white teeth gleaming beneath the studio lights.

“Today marks the end of an extraordinary drama that began with a bus crash along a lonely stretch of road. Ariana Nickleson, an eighteen-year-old high school cheerleader, was kidnapped by what authorities have described as a wild man and held captive for more than two months. During that time, investigators believe she endured starvation, abuse, and unimaginable hardship. Authorities say only her courage and determination saved her from certain death at the hands of the savage responsible for…”

The End!