As I lift my body from the bunk, everything groans, including me. The adrenaline and fear coursing through my system yesterday must have masked the pain of my injuries, because I am sure feeling them now. My elbow, knees, head and tailbone sing with torment from where Tucker had thrown and pushed me. Large bruises are forming on the tops of both of my arms where he grabbed me to throw me over his shoulder on the banks of the lake. I don’t know why I threw his drugs. Well, I do know why. I didn’t want to see him in that state; I didn’t want to be stuck with someone who was altering their normal sanity, etc. I just don’t know what compelled me to take such drastic actions. Camp Marsh. Looking around cabin four brings back such vivid memories that I have to press my fingers to the sides of my temples. We’d come here every single summer since we were ten-years-old, stopping around the time when high school starts and teenagers are too cool to go to sleep away camp.
