38. Kinsley
38
KINSLEY
Present—1989.
M y first reaction is to scream. But I can’t. I can’t seem to force my mouth to form a single syllable that could pass as a word through my dry throat. My limbs feel as though they’ve been filled with lead, the heaviness running through my veins and keeping me glued to the spot where I sit.
Memories I have spent far too long suppressing of that godforsaken man come rushing back to me like a tidal wave, nearly knocking me off my feet.
It suddenly feels like I’m drowning, unable to reach the surface to take a breath and fill my lungs with fresh air. An audible gasp escapes my lips as my chest tightens to the point I fear my rib cage is going to snap in on itself and pierce my heart with shards of bone.
I never wanted to feel like I was drowning again. And yet here I am having to relive that immense pain all over again.
All because of that man.
The same man who gave me my first big role in the industry, but also stripped me of my innocence. The same man who helped my family move to Los Angeles without expecting anything in return, but also made me grow up too fast by seeing the horrors of this world. He is the same man who would praise me on my acting skills and tell me I would be the next best actress in Hollywood while simultaneously calling me his good girl in the privacy of my dressing room.
He’s a goddamn monster. I thought I had escaped him for good, but it just goes to show you can never escape the demons nipping at your heels. They will always fucking be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike.
And that time is now.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I do my best to block out the blood rushing in my ears. I’m painfully aware of my nails digging into the palms of my hands and the droplet of blood rushing down my wrist, but I don’t care. It’s a welcome distraction as I try to find my voice.
I’ve been silenced by that man for far too long, so now is my chance to finally stand up for myself.
“Kin?” Adam prompts after a moment of silence. “Are you still there?”
“Y-yeah.” I clear my throat and swallow thickly. “I’m still here.”
“Okay,” Adam says, continuing as if he can’t sense I’m trying so hard to not start spiraling. Good. I don’t want him to know . “I have spoken with Reggie Black and we’re going to organize a time for you to get together. He anticipates filming will start in the coming months, but he wants to get the cast and crew together to get a jump start on reading through the script and whatnot. Until then, you’ll just have to sit tight until we finalize a date to meet.”
The mention of the cast has my ears perking up and my heart hammering in my chest. “The cast? Do you know if he has contacted Travis Mayers? He was my co-star on the show.”
The shuffling of papers indicates Adam is searching for something. Silence suffocates me as I await his response, settling heavily on my shoulders. If I wasn’t already sitting, I would be struggling to stand.
“Okay, here,” Adam finally replies. “Uh… yes, it does seem that Travis has already been contacted. However, I’m unsure of his response to the reunion as of yet. But as soon as I hear something, you’ll be the first to know.”
My teeth drag my bottom lip between them as I stare at the planks of wood beneath me. My free hand twists the beaded friendship bracelet on my wrist as images of soft blue eyes and blonde curls flash before my eyes.
Travis Mayers.
I can’t remember the last time I spoke with him. It was three months ago at least. Before I agreed to date Nash.
We’re both so busy in our careers that it’s hard to keep in contact. I find it hard enough to make time to see Sadie and Matt, let alone Travis who has a similar schedule to myself.
He’s been my longest friend since we were ten years old. We’ve been through so much together that guilt tends to eat at me when I don’t make the time to call and check in on him because I’m too tired after a long day on set. But I know he feels the same.
Even if we don’t talk all the time, we still have a lot of love for each other and I only want the best for him. I’m his number one supporter and he’s mine. Nothing will change that.
The resurgence of that monster has me worried about Travis. The secrets we share could shake this industry to its core with the potential to take down a lot of well-known people.
We promised we would never speak a word of it because we knew no one would believe us. We knew if that information were to ever get out… well, it would be a shit show. And we didn’t want to ever relive the events of what happened to us, so we agreed to bury the memories deep within ourselves and continue on with our lives.
We may have buried the truth, but we will never forget it.
“Thanks, Adam,” I finally say. My lip is tender from how hard I’ve been chewing on it, but I welcome the pain. “I’ll, um…I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Wait, Kin,” Adam calls hurriedly, his voice filled with concern. He clears his throat “Are you okay? You sound… off.”
“I’m fine.” It’s an automated response. I’ve already checked out of the conversation. All my attention is focused on getting in contact with Travis to check in on him. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I have something I need to go do.”
“Okay, yeah,” he says and blows out a long breath. “I’ll talk to you soon. Make sure you get some rest and drink lots of water.”
I manage to mumble a quick, “Okay,” before hanging up the phone. Without so much as taking a breath, I’m already dialing Travis’s home phone number and pressing the hard plastic to my ear.
After the repeated ringing, I’m met with his dial tone. Slamming the phone down on the table, I jump to my feet and pace the patio.
Should I go to his house and see him in person? Maybe he’s just not answering because he’s cooking dinner or working in his office. He’s a busy man, so it would make sense. I don’t want to disturb him at this hour, but after the news I just got, I need to see my oldest best friend.
Without giving it much thought, I run through the house to the front door and slip on my black flats. My heart is racing in my chest as I snatch my handbag off the entryway table and swing open the front door.
As I’m rushing down the front steps to my car in the driveway, taking two at a time, I barely manage a wave to Mrs. Jones raking her front yard before I’m in the car and racing across the city to Travis’s house.
My knuckles are white from the grip on the steering wheel and my heart is beating so hard I feel it thumping in my temples.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous to see Travis. Maybe it’s the fact that the fucking Devil has just showed up on our doorsteps after many years and now we’re going to have to face him again.
We spent far too long healing to be thrown back into the den with that man.
I just want to know if Travis is okay. Because if he’s okay, then I know we’ll be okay together.
After being stuck in the evening traffic rush, I finally see Travis’s large mansion at the end of the street. Every house I pass is beautiful with lush gardens and many expensive cars in the driveway. Just like Nash’s house. But Travis’s is by far the biggest and most stunning.
As I pull into the driveway behind his black Range Rover, I gaze up at the two-storey house. It’s a mixture of white bricks and panels with half-hexagon bay windows on both levels. The lawn has been mowed recently because the smell of freshly cut grass reaches my nose as I walk up the cobblestone pathway to the front door.The humidity in the air forms a layer of moisture on the back of my neck, adding to the cold sweat spreading across my skin
As I approach the front door, light raindrops hitting my exposed skin, I realize the house is dark. There should be at least one or two lights on inside, especially if his car is in the driveway.
A sense of dread washes over me as I ring the doorbell. The sound is eerie as it echoes throughout the large home. Peeking through the windows by the front door, I can’t see a thing because it’s so dark inside.
After ringing the bell a few more times, I try the door handle. To my surprise, it turns easily. The door creaks as I push it open slowly, ignoring the sense that something is wrong.
Everything is fine , I tell myself in the hopes it’ll ease the nerves coursing through my veins at the situation. Travis is fine .
“Hello?” I call out into the calm, dark house. No movement follows. Not even the sound of his voice telling me he’s busy or is coming. Nothing. “Travis? Are you home?”
Again, silence follows.
My subconscious forces me to step over the threshold and walk further into the house. If his car is in the driveway, then he must be home.
Maybe he’s just taking a nap after a long day and didn’t hear the doorbell the five times I pressed it.
Instead of checking downstairs, I head up the staircase to my right where his bedroom is located. Muscle memory helps me take each step, the floorboards creaking under my feet as I climb slowly.
Breathing is painful as I take my time walking to the second floor. I don’t know why my chest is twisting painfully, and I don’t have time to figure it out before I step onto the landing and make my way down the dark hallway to his room at the far end.
As I get closer, each step makes me feel like I’m in a horror movie and at any moment someone is going to jump out and scare me. It wouldn’t surprise me if Travis saw my car in the driveway from his bedroom window and decided to scare the shit out of me because he knew it would make me laugh.
At least, I’m hoping that’s the case.
“Trav, I swear to God, if you’re trying to scare me then you’re doing a great job.”
I’m met with silence. Not even a huff of breath as if he were holding back a laugh from wherever he could be hiding.
Nothing .
The door to his bedroom is closed. I know I should probably knock in case he is sleeping, but the logical part of my brain isn’t focused right now. Instead, I turn the knob and push the door open. It creaks on its hinges as it slowly swings open to reveal the vast room.
Before I can take a step inside, a bolt of lightning shoots across the sky. Its visibility through the window illuminates the room long enough for me to gaze at the outline of a body hanging from the ceiling fan. Unmoving .
It’s almost as if time itself stands still. My lungs deflate of any air, and my vision zeros in like target. All the air in the room settles at my feet, leaving me gasping as my fingers twitch at my sides.
That can’t be him. My best friend.
It can’t be…
A cold shiver sweeps across me as I rush toward the body with my heart in my throat. “No, no, no .” My fingers graze his arm and I’m met with lukewarm skin.
I was too late .
I hear something jingle and look at his wrist. The colorful beaded friendship bracelet I gave him when we were twelve hangs limp around his wrist, standing the test of time.
A strangled sob slips past my lips as I drop to my knees and stare up at my best friend, his face hidden in the shadows of the night. I barely register myself screaming his name until my voice grows hoarse and my throat dries out.
He doesn’t answer.
He never will.
His messy curls are limp and lifeless over his forehead, a stark contrast to how bouncy they always were on set. I used to love touching them—they were soft between my fingers and smelled like citrus.
But now, I can’t smell anything.
Nothing.
Another bolt of lightning strikes in the darkened sky, allowing me to meet his once bright green eyes that were always full of love and a zest for life. They were a constant reminder I had to keep pushing forward, that I had to keep fighting the demons to the very end if I wanted to continue to feel the love and support he gave with just one look.
One look that would turn my frown into a smile, and take away some of the pain I had cursing my heart.
Those same eyes are now dull and… empty .
With tears streaming down my face, and my body numb, I feel just as empty.