Chapter 9 #2
“Hey, Kayla.” She gives me a timid glance. “You don’t come here much anymore.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Usually at my place. I come here to see Dr. Collins, though. Are you seeing him too, or one of the other ones?”
“Yeah, I see him.” She bites the inside of her cheek, eyeing me nervously. “He’s okay, I guess.”
I focus on her. She looks younger than she is. More eighteen versus the twenty-five that she is.
“He actually suggested I take on yoga and meditation. Can you imagine me doing that?” I let out a dry laugh, pretending I’m doing a meditation prayer pose and humming to myself.
Her laughter slips free. It’s nice to see her laughing. I don’t ever remember her doing that.
“That’s crazy.” She shakes her head. “No way would I even bother with that mumbo jumbo. Therapy is bullshit anyway. I don’t know why those people think they can help us or something.” Her features tighten, and her voice drops. “How can they help us if they have no idea about any of it?”
I nod. “You’re one hundred percent right.”
I struggle to say the next few words because I don’t really believe them, but if I can make her believe, that’s enough.
“It’s why we need each other. To talk to one another. Because we understand. We know. Because we endured it together.”
She drops her face and stares into her lap. Her chin trembles, and she takes a few seconds before she speaks again.
“I don’t know why I’m still alive.” Her tears shine in her eyes.
“You’re alive because they just happened not to kill you.”
Her eyes burst.
“I don’t believe in God or any of that bullshit,” I tell her honestly.
“Nor do I believe that things are meant to happen as they should or that karma exists. Life is just filled with unfortunate events, and sometimes they happen to some and not others. But what matters is that we’re still here.
” I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “If we’re living, then we have to do whatever we can to live our life to the fullest. You know why? ”
She shakes her head, staring with widened attention.
I drag my chair closer. “Because that’s how we get our revenge. By living. They never wanted that for us. They wanted to use us and make us their victims, but we can’t act like victims anymore.”
This time, her hand squeezes mine.
“We have to fight, and every day we’re living and moving on and healing, we are fighting. We’re telling them to go to hell. And that’s where they are. In hell.”
She sniffles, tears winding down the slopes of her cheeks as she tucks her brown hair behind her ear.
“If you ever need me…” I say. “If you ever need a friend or someone to hear you cry, I’ll be there for you. No questions asked. Because everyone needs someone.”
She lets out a sob, and instantly her arms are around my neck. She cries while I hold her, crying a little too.
I gave Cammie my number, hoping she does use it. I hate to admit it, but Jade was right. That was productive. I liked knowing I got through to her. That I maybe even helped somehow. I hope she does take me up on my offer and calls me.
After therapy, I had some classes in the evening before coming home, and of course Chris followed me in.
He appears half-dead, though, as he enters my living room, looking all over the place, examining my things, my furniture. Like he’s trying to understand me as a person.
“Do you approve of my aesthetic, or do you have something to say?” I flick up a sassy brow.
“Hmm…” A wry smile twists his features. “You don’t seem like the type of woman who takes critiques very well.”
I scoff. “From the likes of you? Never.”
He grins.
“Sit,” I tell him. “I’ll get you water. And maybe you should actually try sleeping tonight.”
I swear he barely sleeps, and I’m sure napping in his car has been hell.
“I don’t trust you enough to sleep,” he teases, his hazel eyes playing.
“I wouldn’t trust me either. But since you don’t have a replacement, you need to get some rest. I have a spare bedroom I can set up for you.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He settles onto it and outstretches his arms across the upholstery as he leans back, his legs spread like the king of the castle.
And I swear this need to sit over his lap and feel those big, strong arms hold me completely overtakes me. A warm current coats my skin, but I shake it off, rushing into the kitchen to grab him a glass of water.
When I bring it out for him, he’s standing, a picture frame of me with my parents in his hand.
Startling, he gently drops it back. “Your parents seem nice.”
“They are.” I hand him the cup. “They’re the best.” Lowering onto the loveseat across from the sofa, I wait for him to sit. “Are you close to yours?”
He finishes his water and settles back down. “I was when they were alive. But they died years ago.”
“Any siblings?” I wonder.
“I’ve got brothers, but they’re not around. Married and all that.”
“No marriage proposals for you? Shocker.”
“You’ve got jokes, huh?” His teasing, tight smirk sends white-hot shame to my cheeks.
I fold my arms over my chest. “You make it so easy.”
He shakes his head with a grin. “Beautiful and funny.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” My cheeks flush.
“You don’t?”
My eyes roll. “You sound like my shrink, turning everything into self-reflection.”
“He sounds like a smart man.” His grin is comforting and warm, like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold day.
“He’s okay.” I shrug.
Thoughtfully, he stares. “Does it help? Therapy?”
He waits for an answer, curious eyes searching mine.
“I honestly don’t know yet. I mean, how much could it have helped if I’ve turned into a murderer?”
He lets out a laugh, his entire body rocking. “Shit, you are something else, aren’t you?”
“If you say so.” I sound unconvinced.
His eyes darken as he drops his elbows over the top of his thighs. “You are, Kayla. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that, like you’re not sure of your worth. I don’t ever want to hear it.”
My heartbeats pound from the intense way he gazes at me, from his words filled with meaning.
“Okay…” I whisper, knowing right now I’d agree to anything he says.
“Damn, that was easier than I thought.”
That tiny, crooked smirk is back, and all it does is make me feel alive, like I’m free-falling. Like maybe there’d be someone to finally catch me on the other side. What a stupid thought.
It’s then that A’s masked face appears, invading my thoughts, reminding me who I truly am. Corrupted and crazed for vengeance. And I don’t know which Kayla I want to be, because when I’m around each one of them, I’m two different people.
Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m deluding myself.
Yet the way I feel around these two men…it’s confusing and terrifying.
But I want them both. What has become of me? Depraved and insatiable.
At least I feel something, though.
At least I know I’m not dead inside.
That they haven’t killed that part of me, no matter how much they’ve tried.