Chapter 8 #2
I suck in a sharp breath, willing my voice to steady as I let the memory surge forward like a wave I can’t outrun, one that’s about to take me under. I speak as if I’m reliving it in the present.
“It happens just before my fourteenth birthday,” I whisper, like I’m confessing something sacred and cursed all at once. “It’s late at night. I wake to something crashing, like glass shattering against a wall.”
The impact still echoes in my head.
“The noise came from my mom and dad’s room. I get out of bed and creep down the hall toward their bedroom. My vision’s blurry, so I wipe the sleepy sand from my eyes.
“The door to their bedroom is cracked. I push it open. Marijuana smoke fills the air, and somber music plays low in the background. They’re sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Flickering firelight from the hearth casts shadows on their walls like ghosts.”
Tears form in the corners of my closed eyes. “My mom’s crumpled in my dad’s arms, sobbing like her soul is being scraped raw. She doesn’t even flinch when I enter. Neither does my dad.”
I wipe my face with the side of my hand as if tears were falling, but they’re not. It’s just a memory.
“She pushes herself away from him. Her face is blotched, and her lips tremble. She says, ‘Livianna always takes. She has since the day she entered this world. You know what she did, Greg.’”
My heart stutters. “I remember thinking, ‘What did I do?’ I scan the space around them. There’s an empty bottle of wine on a side table and a blunt smoldering in an ashtray. I have so many questions, like: ‘What in the world is going on?’ and ‘Why is my mom so upset with me?’”
“Lorna, stop.” My dad sits back, his voice much too soft for a demand. He gives my mom some space. “This isn’t productive.”
“She took Lehlani from us.” My mom swipes a tear away. “Livianna killed her, Greg.”
“I can’t make sense of it. I don’t know anyone named Lehlani.” My chest aches. “My dad tries to argue his case.”
“Lorna, that is… Livianna did no such thing.”
“Why do you always defend her? Why can’t you just admit it once? Own what she took from us. What she took from you.”
My dad’s shoulders slump. “I don’t see it that way. Livianna is—”
“The one you’ll always let get away with murder. If it were anyone else with far less of an infraction, you and I both know they would never see another day of light. But her…Lehlani’s twin. She’s her replacement, and you give her anything she wants. Why?”
My dad straightens, tone shifting to something hard and final.
“Because she’s our daughter, my blood, my responsibility, and just like you, she’s someone I’ll always fight for. You knew who I was when you married me, loyal to my core. Why do you think I would change, especially when the person you want me to resent is a product made from deep, fierce love?”
“Livianna killed her.” My mom covers her face with her hands and shatters into pieces again. “It was Livianna’s umbilical cord that strangled Lehlani Rose. She’d be here if not for Livianna. And I’m not sure I can ever fully forgive her for what I lost.”
The memory still stings and slashes my heart as if it’s happening in real time. I had a twin sister I never knew about, and I killed her. My insides hollow out, and my stomach churns with a dark unease.
I swallow my tears and let the rest of the story be heard.
“That’s when it hits me. Not the sobs. Not the scent of smoke, or the wine, or even the crackle of the fire.
It’s the secret my parents carry about me, and how it must be impossible to love me.
My body goes numb, and I lose my breath.
I shut the door before they can see me break, and amble back to my bed. ”
I pause, allowing the gravity of this finally being discussed to sink in. Jaxon remains quiet, so I continue, bringing the weighted blanket up higher on my chest.
“My life changes in that second, and I realize I can never be her. No matter how hard I try, I’m just a substitute, a replica, the second best, just here to be a constant reminder of all the pain I created. I’m the reason Lehlani Rose is dead, and I don’t blame my mom for hating me for it.
“I climb under my covers as if I can hide from what I now know. The truth is, I’m not their second chance. I’m their scar, the hole in their hearts that constantly bleeds. I’m their grief in living form. And from here on out, I’m not a child anymore. I’m a baby murderer.”
I stay in the past for a second before I notice something beautiful. The aroma of roses floats around me. I open my eyes. The lighting is soft green.
There’s a warmth around me. The truth hits me, and I sigh like never before. It’s the first time I’ve ever whispered the words, and the relief is something I’m not expecting.
Jax crawls to my side. “Let me hold you, Livianna. After reliving that, you need deep empathy and comfort. Let me be that for you right now.”
My eyes and nose sting as I take a shaky inhale. “I’d like that very much.”
He adjusts a few pillows, lies on his back, and gestures for me to get into an embrace. “I’ll let you decide how close you want to be. But if you want, you can rest on my chest.”
I roll to my side, tuck myself under his arm, and lay my head where his heart is. It’s pounding—steady, strong, and not too fast. Something about it is soothing.
His muscular arm wraps around my shoulders and he squeezes. I shift closer, placing my palm on his stomach, steadying myself in the rise and fall of his breath.
In any other context, I’d think this was the strangest, most inappropriate interview in the history of the world. But something about it tells me it’s going exactly how it’s meant to.
It’s perfect. And nothing about it is wrong.
He gives me a moment to come back to the here and now.
In the past, before shedding that memory, I’d want to cut and bleed my pain out so Lehlani could be seen. My blood is her blood. And cutting myself lets her out into the world while giving me the release I so desperately crave.
Now, I’m grounded. And tired. Really fucking tired.
The problem is that as I rest in Jax’s hug, I can’t make sense of this strange emotion brewing in my heart. The way I feel is more than physical attraction, more than how I’ve felt about anyone since Callum.
It’s like walking barefoot through fire, thinking it’s water because part of me hopes the burn means this connection I have with Jax is real.
But what if the blisters aren’t proof of anything at all? What if it’s just the same trauma wearing a different face, whispering a new name, pretending it won’t ruin me again?