Kasien #2
I turn off my Bluetooth so Adrien won’t hear me as I let the tears spill out of the corners of my eyes, silently swearing and breathing in sharp bursts.
I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. Seeing Adrien like this. I need to get him out too.
There’s so much on my plate, I can’t. I don’t know how to save one of them without putting the other one in danger. I can’t do it all. I’m fucking useless.
They should’ve never adopted me. They should’ve never found me and my sister.
?
We haven’t said a word to each other since we parked our bikes in the garage. We’re sitting in the lobby while I face the main door for my own peace of mind, downing a second glass of whisky.
It’s disgusting.
Both of us are sweating like pigs, slouched back in the chairs, exhausted and ruined. Adrien didn’t wash the blood off, his white shirt completely soaked, the blood on his hands dried, turning into flakes and falling onto the ground.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says quietly, his expression still hollow.
He takes off, and I stay, staring into blank space.
I don’t know how long I sit there. I strip off the suit jacket with the tie and drink—what, five more glasses of that disgusting poison.
My throat and insides burn. My head is slumped back against the backrest, the ceiling spinning above me.
I let my eyes close, ready to fall asleep and never wake up into this life again.
But there’s nowhere to go in my dreams. There hasn’t been a single moment in my life that wasn’t pitch-black and full of pain.
The only place I ever had was her—and that’s just a memory now, which somehow hurts even worse. I can’t go back there.
Going back means remembering that whatever I had, whatever I felt, was temporary. Something I was never meant to keep. If I’d never had it, she wouldn’t be here now.
I shut my eyes, sliding into the darkness.
Kasien.
I hear her screaming.
No.
The muffled scream sharpens, growing louder.
That’s not a dream.
My eyes fly open. I shoot upright, my head spinning.
“Kasien!” Her voice ricochets through the manor.
Pure panic. Pure terror.
I run toward it, chest tightening, lungs burning. Her scream turns into a sob.
Holy shit. What’s happening?
I tear through hallways, yelling back for her, checking every door. Who the fuck made this house so big?
Then I hear her voice closer, frantic, coming from one of the downstairs bathrooms. I crash through the door.
And then I see it.
She’s on the floor, scattered and shaking. Adrien lying in her lap, motionless. She’s holding him, sobbing, mascara smeared, eyes wild and red. She looks up at me—wrecked.
“I don’t know how much he took, Kasien,” she chokes, voice breaking.
Then I see it. The bag of pills spilled beside his body.
No. Please no.
I drop to my knees, Adrien a dead weight in my arms.
God, please no. Don’t take him away from me.
Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.
I’m supposed to go first.
I shake his body, searching for his pulse. I don’t feel it. Bile is rising in my throat.
“No.” My eyes sting and I can’t hold back the gulp and silent whimper. “No. Please no.” I sob.
And then I feel it. The pulse. It’s there. But it’s too slow, it’s fading.
Okay. Act. Now. He’s not going anywhere.
I get up, take him under his armpits, and move his body into the big marble shower right next to us. I sit on the shower floor, his body in my lap, trying to turn him around.
Kiara runs to us, understands what I’m trying to do, and while I hold his head, she sticks her fingers down his throat. She’s panicking when it doesn’t work, same as me, but I try to hide it.
“Kasien, it’s not working!” she cries.
I need to hold him. I can’t try it myself—he would smash his head on the shower floor.
“Push deeper, it’ll work,” I assure her.
And finally, it works.
He wakes up, his body reacting to the gag reflex, retching and letting it all out. Relief slams into me so hard that my arms give out for a second. I drop my forehead against the back of his neck, shaking without meaning to.
He’s alive.
He keeps vomiting, but he can hold himself up now—palms braced against the shower floor, shoulders shaking as his body forces out whatever he swallowed.
I stay behind him, arms hooked under his, steadying him when the spasms hit.
My forehead rests against his damp curls, breathing in the only thing that matters right now.
I’m not leaving him. I’m not letting go.
He keeps gagging, throwing up. His body tensing in my hold every time it pushes the drugs out.
I’m not letting you go.
We’re all scattered on the shower floor, water still off, marble cold beneath us. Kiara kneels in front of him, gently sweeping his curls off his forehead so she can check his temperature, her fingers trembling.
Adrien finally stops vomiting, but neither of us moves. I’m still holding him upright, while he’s leaning into me like the last thing keeping him conscious.
We just stay there, all three of us, until his breathing evens out.
Kiara stands up and turns on the shower. Warm, heavy droplets finally fall onto us, waking us up.
I slowly lift my head, not letting go of Adrien, his body still limp in my hold.
But he’s awake. Alive.
I rest my back against the other shower wall, taking Adrien with me so he’s resting his back against my chest, the water now falling onto him. Kiara kneels next to us and starts unbuttoning his shirt that is still completely soaked with blood.
I’m not sure if she’s checking for wounds or if she knows that the blood isn’t his. But as soon as she sees his body is clean of wounds, she just gives him a quick look and then continues to take the shirt off.
I stare at her, frozen and confused.
Why is she helping us? She called for me. Why was she crying? Who are we to her?
I can’t take my eyes off her. They sting but I don’t let the tears slip out. Her eyes are red from her own tears, dried salty drops cling to her cheeks. Her face is all shades of pink now. She’s so tender.
The way she was touching his forehead and the way she’s pulling the sleeves of his shirt off his arms, as if he was a little child.
She was always so tender, innocent, so fragile.
She’s too pure for all of this. She’s not supposed to be here. She was not supposed to be there that night six years ago. She was never supposed to meet me.
I’m a fucking curse to her, to Adrien and to my sister.
“Hold him like this,” her soft voice snaps me out of my self-destructive thoughts again as she signals me to hold him differently so she can pull his shirt off his arms.
She takes it off, leaving him in his suit pants. She stands up and comes back with a towel, soaking it under the water and cleaning his neck and chest of the vomit and blood. I keep holding him, not taking my eyes off her.
Her eyes flick to mine only for a second and I don’t catch the emotion in there.
Adrien is awake, but not really responding.
We clean him completely under the shower, and he cooperates even as we force water down his throat.
After it’s done, I take him, placing one of his hands around my shoulders, holding him upright while Kiara does the same on his other side.
We take him to the closest room next to the bathroom, which is an empty guest room with a huge bed draped in black sheets. We slowly sit him on the bed, and he immediately falls down on his back when we take our hands off.
We end up standing above him, staring at him. His half-naked body sprawls across the bed like he’s making a snow angel. He really does look like an angel with those curls on his head.
Fucking idiot.
A silent chuckle escapes me, and Kiara looks at me, confused, wondering why I’m laughing.
She wouldn’t get it.
I shift him, waking him enough to force him to change out of his soaked pants and then lie next to him. Kiara slowly turns to leave as he seems taken care of and falling back into a coma.
“Selvaggia,” Adrien mumbles, half-looking at Kiara.
She stumbles, her eyes jumping between me and him.
I don’t have the energy to explain now.
“Nat,” he mumbles and reaches for Kiara, his palm instantly dropping onto my body, because he can’t hold it up.
Kiara looks at me, probably waiting for my instruction, or I don’t know. I’m still a bit drunk myself.
“I’m not—” she starts, but I stop her right away.
“Stay,” I command and signal her to the other side of the bed.
She hesitates for a second but then walks around the bed and climbs in. Adrien instantly turns around to her and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her into him and falling asleep immediately.
I clench my jaw, wanting to kill that motherfucker if he wasn’t just dying an hour ago. I stare at his hands around her waist, Kiara stares at me, her eyes wide open.
She’s probably confused. And I’m fucking furious, but I also don’t want the drugged Adrien to have another panic attack when he finds out that Natalya is not really here.
We’ve been through that already. More than once.
Fine.
I guess this is happening.
I let them be and unclench my fists, my scars still tense from the pressure. I look at them, Kiara relaxing herself a bit. She’s probably tired, it’s something around two in the morning.
What was she doing outside her suite? I fist my hands again, snapping my head toward her.
“How did you find him?” I whisper-shout, the words hissing out of me.
She looks up at me with this guilty-apologetic face, and I’m already preparing to murder whoever was supposed to be guarding her tonight.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I sneaked out to the gym.” She pauses. “Bruce fell asleep,” she finishes.
She actually looks proud of herself.
“Who the hell is Bruce?” I hiss over Adrien’s unconscious body.
“My mute guard,” she whispers back.
What? Is she also drunk? I give her the most elaborate please look I can manage.
“I call him Bruce because you obviously forbade them to talk to me, sentencing me to an eternity of silence and loneliness. Thank you for that, by the way.”
Oh, right. I did that.
I lean back against the wall, adjusting my hand behind my head for support. My other hand stays on Adrien’s neck, fingers on his pulse, ready to feel if it slows down again.
“Can I ask you something?” she whispers, not looking at me. She’s obviously nervous, but she just goes on with the question when I don’t respond.
“Does this mean that Natalya is also alive?”
Dammit.
I don’t want to touch that.
Natalya is officially dead. Same as me. And it’s the only thing that keeps her safe, thanks to Adrien shipping her to the other side of the planet that night.
“Please tell me she is. You can trust me, Kasien.” Her voice is quiet, steady.
Her eyes are still red but dry now. She means it. I look at her for a long moment, then slowly nod.
Her whole face lights up, eyes bright, smile blooming like she’s been waiting her whole life to hear that.
I waited six years to see that smile again. I feel my own mouth twitching into something that might be a smile, and look away before she sees it.
“I knew it,” she whispers, practically glowing.
She liked Natalya. They had that weird chemistry—sweet, soft, almost protective. I used to get jealous, which is pathetic now that I think about it.
I miss my little sister.
For a second, warmth spreads through my chest. A rare, dangerous feeling. And the moment I let it in, reality slams the door.
Even if I let Kiara back into my life, nothing changes. My life isn’t mine to offer. Lucien doesn’t need chains to keep me in place. He built the walls inside my head years ago.
I look back at Kiara. Her body finally gives out, her eyes closing. She slumps to the side, her head landing gently on Adrien’s, since he’s literally pressed into her.
They’re fucking cuddling.
Keep it together. They’re just sleeping.
Their heads are so close together, I could suffocate them both with one pillow.
No.
Should I?
No.