Enjoy the first three chapters of Broken Human by Ash Waters

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Riddled with doubt and fear, Izzy resists the urge to listen to everyone in her life telling her to return home and to status quo after moving to Northern Ontario. Then, when E.P.N., an American Christian nationalist group, unbelievably infiltrates the community she moved to for a fresh start, her fears over her son's safety are challenged again. On this journey of self-discovery and love, Izzy finds missing pieces of herself - but can she find the courage to create the reality she wants for son's future and her own?

“Broken Human is one of those novels that will stay with you long after the cover closes. It will inspire you to treat fellow broken humans with the respect we each deserve so we may heal and grow alongside one another.”

@issawellread

ASH WATERS

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-0697264-0-7

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-0697264-1-4

No part of this publication, either writing or images, may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, artificial intelligence system, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

A note from the author,

If you have made it this far, thank you for checking out my book! This is my first novel but hopefully not my last.

Firstly, I’d like to recognize that the work put into writing this novel took place in Treaty 18 territory, on the land of the Anishinaabeg people. I want to recognize that all people who inhabit Turtle Island are treaty people and that every settler has a responsibility to work towards reconciliation with all First Nations, Metis and Inuit people on this land. My education as a student in the Ontario Education system regarding Indigenous people was likely similar to yours; limited and misinformed. There was no discussion about the Indian Act or Residential Schools. Even in University, while earning a minor in Canadian history, I stumped my very knowledgeable professor by asking “what was happening with Indigenous people during the 1920’s?” It's shameful. As an educator I have dedicated my teaching practice to include diverse voices through a social justice focus. It is not enough. I strongly encourage everyone to read the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report, 21 Things to Know about the Indian Act by Bob Joseph and Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer if you are unfamiliar with this side of Canadian history. Reconciliation is an action and everyone is capable of learning more.

I would like to ensure also that my readers are aware that I identify as a white, cis-gendered, heterosexual woman. While my novel includes Indigenous characters, mention of ceremony and other culturally significant situations and settings; it is important to be aware that I am writing from my basic knowledge of Indigenous people as learned and experienced through Indigenous friends, community members and my own clarifying research. This novel is a reflection of my own understanding of Indigenous culture as I have experienced it as a settler throughout my life. The characters and scenarios are reflections of people I have met and the known history of the colonial violence that Indigenous people have experienced for centuries. Anti-Indigenous hate is built into the fabric of the colonized states existing on Turtle Island known as Canada, United States of America and Mexico. I would argue this is not Indigenous history, but rather this is settler history. The parts of the story that demonstrate love, community, connection to the earth and the stars, resilience, strength and the importance of moving forward in a good way are inspired by Indigenous history and culture. I am not an expert in any way, only a person who has great respect for the diversity of Indigenous identity and history that reflects a stewardship of this land since time immemorial.

As you read, you may notice significant details are missing regarding stories or ceremonies because those are not my stories or experiences to share. If you have questions about the Indigenous influences that inspire my story, I would like to recommend that you do some research and engage with your local Friendship centre for answers. As settlers, making donations is an important way to support the work happening at all Friendship centres across the country. I suggest you also learn how to respectfully seek knowledge from Indigenous people prior to asking questions. For the Anishinaabeg, a gift is presented before knowledge is shared. Red tobacco ties, maple syrup and tea are examples of gifts you can present. If you are Indigenous and have concerns about how individuals or how the culture is presented, I would most appreciate your feedback as a part of the continued discussion I hope to engage in throughout my life. I have tried to explore the various forms of violence and oppression that colonization has created for women, 2SLGBTQIA+ and BIPOC people throughout the book. The Indigenous presence is central to the story and I did my best to express some of the realities of the Indigenous experience. But also, to explore how settlers can participate in reconciliation through their own learning and self-reflection.

I wrote this story as a way to explore my own privilege and how it intersects with my experience as a mother and a woman. I also wanted to explore how we just continue living our capitalist, colonial lives in the face of human tragedy that is literally being live streamed like some kind of reality TV show on our phones. How do we challenge our complacency due to our existing comfort and realize that everything is fleeting? When do we finally act?

Trigger Warnings:

Characters in the book experience vivid anxiety and panic. Mental health challenges are a common discussion throughout the story.

Female characters experience sexual harassment and physical violence in various situations throughout the story.

There is gun violence towards the end of the novel that is not reflective of Indigenous realities but rather fictitious hyperbole that explores the extreme measures families will take to protect one another. I suggest researching the Oka Crisis, as this was what I envisioned in terms of the environment and dangers presented within the story.

The story also focuses on the realities of anti-trans hate and how it impacts children. There are retellings of violence against a trans child and the sentiment of common existing trans hate that currently exists.

There is a hallucination scene that includes a flashback of the trauma experienced by Indigenous children and families at the hands of the Canadian RCMP and the Catholic church resulting in the theft and death of thousands of Indigenous children as a result of the Residential School System.

The story includes sexually explicit scenes that explore body image issues and pleasure for women.

Wow. That’s a lot…

Thank you for reading my book.

Chapter 1

In the Dark

I made it Auntie Cee, we’re parked.

Your cousin was really kind. We’ll

be talking tomorrow to set everything up.

Miigwech.

Billy will take good care

of you. Let me know how

you settle in this week.

Will do, good night.

The glow from my phone screen was the only light on the bus, we were so far away from anything and I was honestly scared. My little love was fast asleep in his seat, and I was glad this journey was over. It could have been one long six hour drive up north, but when you're traveling with an eleven year old, that is not in the cards. So we made it an adventure, just mommy and Tristan heading north to our new home. We stayed overnight at a beautiful provincial park and the next day made the most of Sudbury ensuring we had everything we needed because it looked like there would be nothing until Timmins. As we visited the giant nickel, Tristan squealed in awe of this silly coin and my brain was just stuck on one question; "What are you fucking doing Izzy?"

Running. No, not running. Escaping. Maybe not even that. I had struggled with anxiety and depression since I was a teenager. These conditions challenge everything I do and everything I think in the least supportive way possible. Like a jailer that lives to keep me submissive and small, my brain regularly makes statements of doubt and reminds me that I don’t matter or that I'm an annoying burden. It was exhausting, really. Usually it would keep me stuck on the hamster wheel, just running and never moving; wanting to have the courage to act but always sticking to the sidelines, naive and feeling insignificant. But the world changed, and in a way that was now more than a headline happening far away.

Now the threat was a reality impacting my kid and it felt like there was no other choice. Privilege is a funny thing. Prior to this wild move up north, there was a series of events that added up to be just enough that I felt I had to do something, or risk losing everything. And I made the decision to do something; and I did it all while hearing that jailer telling me I was crazy, overdramatic, stupid and impulsive.

The untouched forestry as we drove north seemed to turn from picturesque to darkness in a hurry after taking longer than planned with pit stops and moose sightings.

“Look Tee, look in the distance… a freakin’ moose! Can you believe it? It's so big!”

“Whoa! It better not come over here mom,” he’d say back.

“Don’t worry my baby love, mommy is here to protect you.”

He’d roll his eyes and the drive would continue. It also didn’t help that I was unaware we were another 30 mins out of Timmins before we arrived at Billy’s Snow Park and RV Stop.

I was grateful when I pulled up and Billy came out right away. She was short and stout and strong, but her presence was welcoming and calm. Not a word was said about our late arrival. Just a quick hello and a guided tour of the grounds to my parking space. I followed slowly behind Billy on her ATV.

“I’ll come back in the morning to show you all the hookups. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like,” Billy said as she hopped back on the ATV and started it up.

“Miigwech, honestly. I’m really grateful to you and Auntie Cee,” I said with my hands over my heart. I did my best to stop my warbling voice, trying not to cry right then and there.

“Auntie who?” Billy said, fully confused. “Oh sorry, Cherry. She’s Auntie Cee at work, she’s good people, just like you,” I smiled, feeling lifted by the expression on Billy’s face until she started to laugh. “Auntie Cee huh? I’m never letting her live that down, never. See you in the morning, Sassenach.”

“Watching Outlander are we?” I said with a smirk.

“Oh ya, rewatching. That Jamie, phew.” She fanned her face as she drove away. I thought to myself, “I might be in love with Billy.”

Alone on the bus, I used the little light on my phone to see while I unbuckled Tristan and moved him to his bed. He was getting so big, he was going to be tall like his dad and I was already feeling the effects as I tried to put the lanky kid up in his bunk for the night. My bed was already set, the warm summer air made the bus a comfy temperature and I let myself fall asleep. I could worry about the chaos tomorrow.

Chapter 2

All the Things…

The early morning sun woke me, shining in my eyes. I could not get enough sun in my life. Ironic, I guess, that we moved north where it was winter more often than not. It was seven in the morning and my brain told me it was time to start worrying and thinking about every scary detail that brought me to Kamiskotia Lake. I knew better than to let this happen, so I hopped out of bed and slipped into my sweats, hoodie and boots to take a look outside.

Last night I had no idea what I was driving into. Now in the light of day I could see that the bus needed to be turned around and positioned differently, but other than that, nothing jumped out at me. There were two parked mobile homes to my left. One was nicely kept with a little garden and wind chimes. The other one, closest to me, looked empty and the tall grass around the outside could have been given a little haircut. The trees were tall, and the air was warm and fresh in the sunshine. And it was completely silent for a short moment. I closed my eyes and took in a big breath, just standing there. I asked myself for permission to just be for a short moment. The sunlight on my face, I could hear the birds singing their morning songs in the trees and then a slight breeze of cool air. The breeze brought along a smell I could not forget if I tried; sweet grass. I thought to myself that I absolutely needed to find out where the smell came from. On the drive up I had a great deal of time to think. To distract my thoughts of fear and worry, I imagined what it would be like to live in our new home. I pictured a small garden with strawberries and lots of veggies. Smelling this sweet grass, I wanted to learn how to grow it as well. I wondered if maybe a tobacco plant could be planted as well, and sage. The cedar was all around us and I was grateful at this moment to have been invited to stay.

I took in one more deep breath before I opened my eyes and stepped back into reality allowing the intrusive thoughts to stream in.

This is madness, I screamed in my head, Is this your life? Living on an unfinished Skoolie in a lonely trailer park a million miles away from everyone you know?

And with that my heart started to race.

I never knew why my brain had to be so cruel. In these singular thoughts, I convinced myself that I couldn't do much of anything and shouldn't do anything that centered my needs because, "things can always be worse," the Jailer said. But the world was not what it once was, or perhaps it was exactly what it once was, which was maybe an even more terrifying thought. And as a mother, I was not going to send my child to a space where he wasn't safe, and he was no longer safe.

When the opportunity presented itself to move up north, I jumped on it. Pounced with enthusiasm, actually. Some of my friends and family thought I was panic planning again, trying too dramatically to take control of my life. Others, who knew Tristan's story and loved him with all their heart, acknowledged this move would be challenging but it was one they supported; considering how quickly things were accelerating south of the Canadian border and the western provinces. They worried about his safety as much as I did. So, I continued to breathe and calm my thoughts so I could stay focused on my goals; providing safety and a full, meaningful life for my kid.

I checked my phone, 7:15am. Today was going to take forever and I really just wanted to get it over with. Everything felt unfamiliar and lonely. It was so quiet; there was no traffic or airplanes or music playing or noise from the Nottawasaga River or the South Georgian Bay waters and wind. I wondered what I should do first. Making lists was a coping strategy for me, I made so many lists. Usually I referred to them as tomorrow journals where I set my intentions for the following day.

I needed a plan for right that minute though. Or a newer plan. I was certain I wrote a to-do list in Sudbury after Tristan had fallen asleep, but it needed some revisions. If only I could find it in my pile of partially filled lined paper notebooks from the dollar store. I had always loved the emptiness of the pages and how smoothly a new gel ink pen felt on the paper. I found an old picnic table and pulled out one of my many reusable grocery bags containing my notebooks among other kitchen drawer items I grabbed while packing.

Searching through the random bits in the bag, my brain started to wonder and worry about where I put everything and how we would function full time on the bus. I was grateful when I finally came across my favourite pen and the to-do list. This little moment gave me a win to record for the day, no matter how small. I needed to acknowledge finding what I needed to give my brain the evidence it needed to be convinced that everything wasn't going to be shit all of the time.

The list felt daunting, like nothing on it could just be checked off. Each item was layered with things to follow up on, except maybe groceries. So I added a couple of things I knew I could check off right away.

I decided to go back to bed and relax until Tristain woke up. We'd go into town after some breakfast to get what we needed and maybe find some places to visit to keep us busy for the day.

My plan once we arrived and settled was to homeschool Tristan and continue to teach online for a bit of cash. Our new living expenses were going to be so low, I figured out I didn't need to work much to get by comfortably. That was the thing about living in 275 sqft on a parking spot a million miles from the bustle of southern Ontario, you really didn't need much and I had been making a single mom salary work for years before. I knew financially we would be just fine.

But the rest, I was not so confident about. Was this it? Were we just going to be here finding ways to fill our days on a school bus? What were we doing here again? 7:30 now, I thought as I closed my eyes in an attempt to drift back to sleep.

Chapter 3

Just stay kind.

Tristan never slept in. The trip must have been a bit much, because when his attempts to climb down his bunk ladder woke me up, I checked my phone and it was 10 am. I was grateful for the rest. Tristan, or Tee as I lovingly referred to him, crawled into bed with me for morning snuggles. When he was six, he went through a phase where he wanted to be a cool teenager like my students, and so Tee was born. Obviously, a cool nickname for a cool teenager. I hoped at that moment that morning snuggles would last forever, but as all mothers know, they wouldn't, so I cherished every moment.

"Hey Tee, want to go into town today and check it out? We need to get some groceries and stuff. Maybe you can find some new books?"

"Sure Mom, kinda have to. It's not like I can stay home when we need to drive it to get groceries."

"Oh my goodness, was that… sass?" I said with a pretend look of shock on my face.

“Nope, just the truth, and maybe some sass," he said as he jumped out of bed, "What's for breakfast?"

Honestly, nothing special. We had some of those little cereal boxes left and a couple muffins. He ended up eating one of each and grabbing an apple for the drive. The kid was a stringbean, but he would eat like it was his business. I enjoyed a giant travel mug of hot tea, but all the stress was making my stomach tight and the thought of eating made it feel worse. I started up the bus and pulled out as our neighbour in the tidy trailer came out on her porch to say hello. To me, she looked a little perturbedly curious about the bus while at the same time maybe not wanting to seem rude, so she waved us hello and goodbye as we pulled out of our space. She was an elderly woman, and I felt bad that I kept going on our way to town instead of stopping briefly to say hello. Sometimes when I got an idea in my head and made a plan, there was just no changing it. Even when a sweet old lady stepped out to say hello. I made a note to get her and Billy a little something to say thanks for letting us be their new neighbours

Timmins was exactly as I expected. There were many of the same amenities and shops from home, but it still had a small town feel. When I say small town feel, I don't mean quaint and friendly like a Hallmark movie. I mean people smiling to your face, talking behind your back and never agreeing to let anyone new feel welcome. It was a distinctly Canadian experience. I could feel the eyes on us as we rolled into the parking lot of a grocery store near the downtown area. Some people had just stopped what they were doing to stare at us.

"It's like these people have never seen a school bus with solar panels before!" I retorted sarcastically to Tee and to the judgment of everyone who still looked on to see who would get out of the bus. We grabbed our grocery bags and locked up the bus. Our plan was to check out the shops that we could walk to before we got groceries. Unfortunately, we didn't have a lot of space on the Skoolie, so I realized that this uncomfortable exchange would likely be a recurring event for us.

"Hello, how are you?" I said to a gawker as we passed. Not even a smile. My brain was having a hay day with this experience. It took everything I had to smile kindly and keep walking.

"Geez mom, that was weird."

"Yeah kiddo, we're new and different I guess. So we'll just stay kind, ok?"

"Ok Mom."

Downtown was like so many other downtown areas in Ontario. A homestyle restaurant, a pharmacy, gift shops, and, luckily for Tristan and me, a bookshop. Tristan and I loved to read. I assumed we would spend much of our time reading quietly. Seeing the shop, I decided that we needed to find the library and get a card as soon as possible. A project for another day. Tristan found a few books, and I picked up some novels and a book with local history for Tristan and me to read together. First lesson as a homeschooling mom, where were we? Seriously, other than the mines and the obvious Indigenous history that existed here, I didn't know much at all. Before I scared myself with this realization, I told myself that all adventures included a journey to unfamiliar places, and we were no different. As we made our way back to the bus, it seemed the crowd had moved on and were either gone or inside shopping like we were about to. We made the trip a quick one, just picking up what we needed and whatever dry goods we could store. And water, we were going to go through a lot of water.

"Hey kiddo, I know we just bought groceries… but I'm hungry. Want to see if we can find a chip truck for some junk food?" I said, wild-eyed and rubbing my hands together like I was concocting a devious plan.

"Yes!" he said, with the enthusiasm only a hungry kid can have as he buckled in.

We took our time driving around town, passing places like the library, a sports field, a town park, and a school. I checked my phone for any possible places to stop with the bus and found a little chip truck in the wrong direction. We had nothing but time, I thought to myself. When we arrived, we were hungry and tired. We got some food and sat quietly in the shade.

"So, what are your thoughts about all of this so far?" I asked Tristan.

"I'm not sure. I already miss my friends."

"Oh buddy, I know. This isn't easy. I want you to keep sharing these things with me. This is a big change."

"Why are we doing this Mom? I still don't get it."

"Things have changed Tristan. I want us to be safe from all those issues that were happening at school with the kids."

"But this far away? It felt like we were driving forever! Why couldn't we just change schools or something?"

"I don't think this is permanent. Going to a new school closer to home in a few years might be possible. Right now though, it wouldn't have made a difference. The rules changed and just like at your old school, the teachers won't be safe supporting your preferred name or pronouns. It's not fair at all. But it's my job to keep you safe, and here I can keep you safe."

"I know Mom."

We ate the rest of our lunch in silence.

"Come on Tee, let's go back to our new spot and figure out how to make it home. Sound good?"

"Sure Mom."

We drove home in silence, too.

Tristan was quiet the rest of the day. He helped where he could but spent time reading and riding his bike up and down the road. It took all my strength not to immediately drive home. I felt sick with guilt. This beautiful child had faced more than his fair share of harm at the hands of our broken, bigoted society, and he deserved to feel safe, but this was the only way I could afford to. How did a mother explain to her child that people wanted to hurt him or worse, didn't want him to exist? It was crushing. My mind wandered the rest of the afternoon as I attempted to get things organized. This new space was going to be a daily reminder of what we'd left behind and the violent reasons why. How could it ever feel like home, I wondered.

Want to find out if Izzy and Tristan
find the home they are looking for?

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