TWENTY-TWO
Logan
Every time I thought I had known the extent of Kaylan’s situation, I was thrown into an avalanche of despair burying me further down in the coldness.
‘You called me a whore, right?’
I wish I had never called her that. Because she very firmly believed that she was one. Or at least wanted to punish me by reminding me of my horrible judgement.
‘What do you think I sold to him to get the key to your fucking cell?’
I flinched at her words. I had tortured this woman in ways I couldn’t have survived myself. I had ripped her open with words. I didn’t know why she was telling me all this. Maybe she wanted to push me away. She didn’t trust me. And why should she? I had all but eroded any possibility of building it. She didn’t trust herself either. Not with me. And she truly didn’t trust the possibility of us.
“Kaylan,” my voice cracked, “You telling me this won’t change things. You can’t break a broken man. And you damn well can’t push this broken man away anymore.”
She didn’t look at me, she didn’t even acknowledge my words with a sound. She simply untangled her hands from mine and pressed the button to move the wheelchair backwards, out of my reach, severing our link.
When she retreated to her room, I stayed there, crouching, staring at her door, unable to move.
I didn’t know how long I was there, but eventually my legs felt numb and I moved. I walked towards the gym still wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt from dinner and trudged aimlessly around the empty gym.
The gym door creaked open, and in walked Sebastian Blackthorn, the last person I was ready to see.
“I thought I saw you come in here,” he said nonchalantly, his face unreadable.
Anger surged up inside me, and I strode towards him. “You knew,” I accused, my voice low and threatening. “You knew everything she went through and you kept it from me.”
Sebastian met my anger with a calm that only fueled my rage. “I didn’t. And it wasn’t my place to tell you, Logan.”
“The hell it wasn’t!” I roared, the echo bouncing off the gym walls. “She suffered, and you let me keep… hurting her. You just stood by and…” My voice broke, choked by my own turmoil.
“That’s on you,” Sebastian shot back, his cool breaking.
I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and cutting. “You never change, do you?” Without thinking, my fist connected with his face and he staggered back. “Keeping secrets, again !” I swung again, hitting his jaw. “Just watching as my world falls apart, again !”
When I pulled back to hit him once more, Sebastian was ready. He blocked my punch and countered with a swift jab to my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
“Stop!” He bellowed.
“No!” I snarled and shoved him, “he’s dead. Eli is dead because of you.”
This wasn’t how I’d wanted to say it, because as the words left my mouth, I felt it. I felt the pain radiating out from him.
“I thought I was doing the right thing!” He roared, his face twisting with remorse, with the blame–no, responsibility–that I had put on him.
“Bastian—”
He stiffened. This was the first time in almost twenty years he had heard me call him Bastian. He stepped closer to me, his face still seething and hurt, his fists clenched to the side.
I saw the shift in him. Hell, I felt it.
“I was a fucking kid too, Logan! We were all just kids!” His voice shook with exhaustion, and his eyes were unfocused. It was as if he was battling with himself.
“I know—”
“I was using too,” he suddenly confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “That night… we both overdosed. I woke up. Eli didn’t.” His voice was a hollow echo of his usual confidence.
I just stood there, stunned into silence.
“I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed.” He said plainly.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the echoes of my ragged breaths in the empty gym.
???
Apologies were due. Too many. Throughout all the cruel, sometimes kinder words I’d hurled at Kaylan, ‘sorry’ hadn’t been one of them. I hadn’t sought her forgiveness, mainly because deep down, I didn’t believe I deserved it..
A week later, Kaylan no longer needed the wheelchair. I had lost an excuse to be close to her. Every night, I’d been wheeling her back to her room after dinner in silence, relishing that trivial task, that tiny role in her recovery.
She was walking now, she was steady and graceful. Her skin was healthy and smooth. She no longer had those dark smudges she carried from Ravenrock. I’d overheard her telling Delara that her sessions with Dr. Mendoza were helping.
During my recent session, I was told that I needed to apologize too. More for myself than her because guilt was eating me raw. So today, I planned to apologize. I just didn’t know how or what I would say.
Hovering outside her door, I felt a surge of nervous energy. My hands fidgeted; I cracked my knuckles compulsively. After wrestling with my thoughts for what felt like an eternity, I finally knocked.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, perhaps coldness, indifference, or disdain. I braced for it. In my head it was easier to apologize to someone who despised you. But then she opened her door, and my breath caught in my chest. She was so utterly breathtaking. She had just showered but her red-rimmed eyes told me of her recent tears.
I wanted to touch her, hold her, comfort her. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I had no right to.
When her lips wobbled, I nearly lost it. It felt as though she was hanging on by a thread. I was her nightmare, dammit. And I was here, in front of her.
It was silly, because whenever I wheeled her around, she never saw my face. I was behind her, so she didn’t have to face me. Face the hurt I had caused her.
But now I was breaking her.
When the tear broke free from her eyes, she quickly swiped it away from the back of her hand, while still blankly staring at me.
I knew what I had to do at that moment. Hell, I came here for that. I needed to ask for her forgiveness. No.
I needed to beg for it. It felt like I was too late, but I needed to do it. Not because Dr. Mendoza asked me to. Not for myself. But for her.
So, I did it. I dropped to my knees before her, my head bowed, feeling her startled intake of breath.
Good, a reaction other than hurt.
“Kaylan,” I began, my voice slow, “I’ve hurt you. I’ve said things to you that if ever said to me I’d be shattered. I have done things that are unforgivable. But you deserve to bring me to my knees. You deserve an apology.” I raised my eyes to hers, imploring her to see the sincerity. “I’m so, so sorry. But please Kaylan, please don’t forgive me because I will never be worthy of your forgiveness. I do realize that I was reckless with you, when all you’ve done is save me. You’re not my tormentor, baby. You’re my savior.”
For a fleeting moment, something like understanding crossed her face, but it was gone too quickly. She sighed deeply, took a step back, and quietly shut the door in my face.