13. Kennedy
Kennedy
I barely make it back inside.
Barely manage to slam the door behind me before I slide down to the floor. My hands shake, my vision blurring. There’s a tingle in my fingers that doesn’t stop, spreading down my body.
Something is wrong. Something new.
“Kenz?” I vaguely hear Rick’s voice. “We need to talk.”
I can’t. I can’t move .
Help me.
Rick’s face appears in front of me. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything.
And then I don’t feel anything.
Nothing at all.
***
It’s quiet.
Blinking, I stare up at the ceiling. “Rick?”
My voice comes out as a croak. Every muscle groans in protest when I try to pull myself up on the couch. The inside of my cheek feels sore, and I press it carefully with my tongue. There’s a lump, as if I’ve bitten it. “Rick?”
I frown. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s still dark. My movement is stilted as I slowly stand, my head pounding, and shuffle into the kitchen.
I need water.
It takes me several tries to pour from the jug I put in the refrigerator this morning. Water sloshes over the edges of the glass, and it taps painfully against my teeth on my first try, spilling down my chin.
Seizures , Abrams said.
Seizures, and nosebleeds, and losing myself in a rage I can’t control.
I slam the glass down harder than I meant to. My eyes drop, and I frown at the paper folded up on the side. My name is scrawled on the outside.
My blood turns to ice.
When my voice comes out, it’s an almost silent whisper. “Dad?”
I haven’t called him that since I was five.
He’s not here. I know he’s not. I know well enough what an empty house feels like. But I leave the note alone anyway, shuffling through into his bedroom. It’s barely bigger than my own.
And it’s empty. His battered case is gone from under the bed, the drawers left open to show nothing but bare space. He’s cleaned out, just as he’s done a dozen times before.
He just didn’t take me with him this time.
Gripping the doorframe, I take it in before turning away.
My hand trembles as I unfold the note.
Kid,
I can’t watch this. I’m sorry.
You found your mates. Stay with them. Rent is paid until the end of the month.
Take care of yourself.
Rick.
A crumpled twenty-dollar bill falls out, drifting to the floor.
I always wondered what his last straw would be. What it would take for him to finally admit how much he hated the responsibility of having an omega for a daughter.
I spent my whole life fitting in with his plans to make it easier, and it wasn’t enough.
“Screw you, Rick,” I whisper. A drop lands on the note. Another, blurring his clumsy writing. “You fucking asshole.”
I could have died here. I wonder how long he waited. If I was still shaking on the floor when he started packing.
You found your mates.
But they don’t want me either.
When the tears stop, I slowly move into the bathroom and slap the light on. The tacky white mirror stuck to the back of the door shows me glimpses as I peel my shorts down, carefully pulling off my sweater.
I unwrap the bandages slowly. Inch by inch, baring my skin to the harsh bulb over my head, not looking.
But I have to face reality. There’s no point in hiding from it anymore.
There never was. I never had a chance.
Slowly, I lift my eyes up. My breath catches in my lungs, nothing coming out as I count.
One.
Two.
Four.
Nine.
I twist.
Eleven.
Fourteen.
Seventeen.
Across my body, seventeen distinct, deep bite marks cover my skin in a patchwork of oozing black.
They’re so much worse than I remember. Six months of changing bandages, of not looking , not really. Six months of pain, of every faintest touch making my vision waver with agony.
Six months of being poisoned from the inside out. Of my body changing, warping into something unrecognizable.
I run my finger slowly across one on my right breast, gently touching the ragged skin. My fingers come away tarred with black.
And then I lift my chin.
I’ve fought for every day I’ve had.
To survive. Scraping for every minute and only getting pain for my trouble.
But I think I’m done fighting. I don’t even know what the hell I’m fighting for anymore, only that I’ve been doing it for so long that it feels second nature to me.
I stare at the girl in the reflection for a long minute. “You did good, Kenny.”
I don’t go back to bed. I can sleep when I’m dead, spend an eternity locked in my own nightmares. I can rest when I’m locked in that box again, with no way out, trapped inside my own mind. When I’m in a cage within a cage.
Instead, I carefully dress myself, grabbing a jacket from the hook in the kitchen, and I close the door to the trailer behind me, leaving it open as I trudge across the clearing and into the trees.
The cool morning breeze dances across my feverish skin, the shadows clearing away and making room for the dawn as I slowly trek up the mountain.
I haven’t watched a sunrise for six months.
It takes me longer than it ever used to, but I still reach the small ridge in the minutes before the sunrise and settle myself down.
It’s one hell of a long drop. I let my legs swing over the side, stretching out my arms and leaning back on my hands, and I wait.
I always wanted to watch the sunrise from here, even though the signs say it’s dangerous. I nearly did, once, but Max practically carried me away when I tried to edge my way out onto this particular ridge.
Today, I’m doing what I want to do.
It’s a beautiful morning. The sun rises across the mountain range in front of me, glints of purple and blue making way for pink and orange, yellow and red. A kaleidoscope of color that sets the world on fire, or so it feels up here.
I don’t think I ever appreciated having this on my doorstep. It’s always too easy to take it for granted. To think it’ll always be here.
I hope it will. It’s a comforting thought, even though I won’t be here to see it.
After another hour, when the sky has changed to a deep, clear blue, I start making my way back down.
I stop off at the trailer on the way, my heart clenching when I see the bike. I forgot they did that. That they fixed it, Max and Jake kneeling on the ground with frowns on their faces.
It felt like before, when I opened the door.
I leave my bike where it is with a small stab of regret. I doubt I’d get back up the mountain with it, not when my legs still feel like jelly thanks to my eventful night and morning hike. I make my way down slowly into Widow’s Peak, stopping off at the bakery.
The owner, an older beta in her sixties, sniffs at me disapprovingly. But she serves me, torn between her integrity and her desire to make a living as she hands over a bag of fresh pastries with a glare.
I hand over the twenty dollars Rick left me, offering her a sunny smile that makes her blanch. “Can I get the change in coins, please?”
I don’t keep my head down. Not today. I meet every gawking gaze, smile in response to every glare.
It’s surprisingly freeing. The only time I duck my head is walking past Brett’s statue. He doesn’t get to ruin today for me.
Although the call I’m about to make just might. Nausea surges up my throat as I step into the call box, pulling the door closed behind me in an attempt at privacy.
“Hello. This is Springfields Residential Center.”
I have to clear my throat. “Hi. My name is Kennedy Traylor. I… I have a key worker with you, Joanne, and I wondered if I could speak to her please?”
“Sure, hon.” Rapid tapping in the background. “Puttin’ you through.”
My Center key worker is a brisk-sounding beta. I’ve only met her once, at Abram’s office, but she seems competent enough, if a little cold. But then, I guess she has to be. “Kennedy Traylor. I’ve been trying to track you down for quite a while, you know.”
My cheeks burn. “Sorry.”
Joanne sighs. “I’m glad to hear from you. You’re an unusual case for us, I’ll admit. How are you feeling?”
Breathe . “I… I think I’m ready for pick-up.”
It feels like I’ve signed my own death warrant. But Eric was first. Who’ll be next?
Joanne is silent for a moment. “Has something happened?”
“Not… not really.” I stare down at the ground, blinking away the mist in my eyes. “But I think it would be better. Am I able to arrange it like that? For maybe… the day after tomorrow?”
“We can pick-up in forty-eight hours. It’ll be around ten on Tuesday morning.”
It sounds so cold. As though I’m a parcel, to be collected and dumped in a room. “Okay. Thank you.”
The logistics are over and done, agreed in the space of a few short minutes. I still have plenty of change left in my pocket when the end of my life has been wrapped up in a neat little bow.
By the time I get back to the trailer, my legs are shaking. I only have a few hours before I need to leave again for the diner.
I debate not showing up, but… it’s not like I have anything better to do, really. It might be nice to be around people.
The unfamiliar car parked outside has me pausing. It’s fancy – sleek metallic blue and completely unsuitable for the road leading up here. The sides are covered in dust. The alpha that climbs out isn’t a surprise. He surveys me, not smiling, in his equally fancy suit and shiny black leather shoes. “Hello, Kennedy.”
I move past him, slotting my key into the lock and kicking the bottom of the door when it sticks. “You’d better come in.”
Charles Rivers strolls into my home with a sneer on his face. He takes in the small space, his lip curling. “Is Rick home?”
Folding my arms, I lean against the counter. My voice is cool. “No. What can I help you with?”
Brett and Theo’s dad turns to me, and I tense instinctively.
I’ve been on the receiving end of his rage before, in the hospital. I have no desire to experience it again.
“I had a call,” he says finally. “From the Center.”
That was fast. I keep my expression even. “I see.”
“They advised me that you would be taking up residency in forty-eight hours.” His eyes narrow. He looks so much like Brett that it makes my stomach turn. And yet, weirdly, I don’t see much of Theo in him at all, despite the two of them being identical. “I thought I would confirm the arrangements.”
In case I opened my mouth before I left. “That’s correct.”
He nods, glancing out of the window. “Your care is paid for three months, although I doubt it will take that long.”
If he expects a thank you, he’s not getting one from me. His face darkens enough to show his annoyance. “I believe it was highly generous, considering.”
Considering that his son is the reason I need end-of-life care at all. “If you’re here to ask if I plan to tell anyone, the answer is still no. I have no intention of breaking the agreement.”
Layers upon layers of lies.
Charles doesn’t want anyone to know the truth about his golden boy.
All I care about is protecting the pack he left behind.
Even now.
Especially now. My stomach turns over.
“Good,” he says shortly. “I understand you’re Theo’s… mate.”
The thought sends a stab of pain through my stomach. “Not for long, so try not to lose your shit over it too much.”
“That’s for the best.” He tugs at the end of his sleeve. “You certainly weren’t good enough for Brett, and Theo deserves better than a dragged-up omega who can’t mind her manners.”
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before from him. But it hurts, nonetheless. As though his words poke holes in my own insecurities. “Are you done? I have a lot to do before they pick me up.”
Charles straightens his tie. “I believe so.”
I see him to the door. “Theo deserves better than to live in Brett’s shadow, you know. He’s going to be a fantastic lawyer.”
The boy I knew wanted to fight injustice, not slide into his father’s polished shoes and pick up the reins of a business whose sole aim is making money.
“I know my son.” Charles rolls his eyes. “I see his potential far better than you do.”
My smile is sugary sweet. “You don’t see a fucking thing. But he won’t be controlled by you.”
Not with the others there.
Charles scoffs. “I’d wish you well, Kennedy. But honestly, my son’s life will be far better when you’re no longer in it.”
I study my nails, feigning boredom. “If I make it to hell, I’ll be sure to say hi to Brett for you, shall I? Although I’m sure you’ll see him yourself at some point. Try not to let the thought keep you up at night.”
The color in his face deepens. But he spins on his heel and gets into his flashy blue car, spraying dirt everywhere as he reverses haphazardly before peeling out of the clearing.