The last thing I can remember before that was leaving the cabin. Trace and I made love and then we said we'd give it the night. We’d spend one last night in this town, up here in the Pines before telling everyone about us, before telling his sister, my brother, my dad and then we’d go from there. But it was the last I ever saw of him.
I stand on my feet, collecting myself as I let the hoodie fall down to my knees. Trace is watching me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking, his proverbial mask is slipped back on as usual. But then I feel anger again. And this time, it’s not just towards myself. It’s for him and for everything else. For the situation. And then confusion greets me, wondering why the fuck my brain chose this moment to revive that memory.
He doesn’t speak, he just looks at me. I start to feel overwhelmed by my surroundings, feeling like my body is about to collapse within itself. Suddenly, my sadness twists into something sour, my pain manifesting into something I can’t quite get my finger on.
“I kissed Jensen,” I state stalely, craving a reaction out of him. “I kissed him. And you saw.”
Trace still stares at me, unmoving and it doesn't even really seem like he’s even here with me at all. Like his eyes are void of life and he’s looking right through me. But I know that’s the mask. I know he’s disguising his emotions.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask, the concept that this could have all been avoided had he just confronted me about it. I mean, that has to be the case, right?
But he doesn’t answer.
“Trace, I asked you a fucking question.” I raise my voice, starting to feel aggression take over even as tears of heartbreak still cover my face. “Why didn’t you just confront me about it?” My voice cracks, so does my heart. Everything feelings too powerful for me to control.
He steps in, lowering his voice as he lifts my face to look up at him. “Do you remember why you found yourself in Jensen’s arms, Olivia? Do you remember why you were that vulnerable in the first place?”
I shake my head, feeling tears threaten me once more. All I know is that I was distraught. I was disturbed. I was haunted. I can feel it even now, sunken into my bones, something happened and I can’t remember what.
“No, I can’t remember. But-”
“But,” he interrupts me. “But you kissed him. I didn’t know until later that you had lost your memory from that night. But by then, the damage had been done. I already felt too fucking torn to pieces, and I knew I had to let you go.” His answer doesn’t do anything except frustrate me more. Only because I now know that he didn't come for me after that likely due to what he saw. But had he just approached me, confrontedme, I would have owned up to it. I wanted to tell him. I remember that feeling, I remember pulling away from Jensen and feeling regret instantly. But everything had happened so fast and by the time the bodies were found, the whole night turned into a blur.
Sure, I can empathize with his feelings. I can see where he’s coming from, I would feel the same way. I understand his anger and I believe it's valid. Who am I to say it's not? But to leave me unanswered for as long as he did and then to terrorize me through this damn forest . . . I don’t understand.
“So, you just ghost me for four years, Trace? You thought that that was the right response?” I question him, knowing that I look like a fucking mess as I raise my voice.
“Olivia, you slept withme. You gave your fucking body, mind, and soul tome. You let me fall in love with you. For a whole year I did nothing but yearn for you, crave you, learn everything about you. I wanted a future for us, wanted to take you with me. I ran after you that night. I realized I didn't want to leave you alone, not for another fucking second and not even an hour after I made love to you, you kissed someone else.”
I wince. His words hurt. They hurt because I know it's fucked him up. I can see that. But it's not fair. It's not fair to not even ask me for an explanation. Granted, one I don't even know I would have been able to give. But he could have tried.
"I can’t even remember why I did it, Trace.” My tone is steeped in sorrow, feeling the betrayal of my actions shroud me. "But it was one kiss," I declare knowingthat it probably isn’t enough. I try to turn away from him but he holds me here, my elbow tight in his grip.
“Was it just one kiss?” he asks and I snap my head back to him, locking our eyes together.
He doesn’t even blink, but my heart is sprinting.
I dip my head. I don’t mean to lie to him. I don’t mean to hurt him. But the first kiss was seemingly out of my physical control. I can’t remember how or why it truly happened. Only having recollection of it now. But the second time . . . the time that, until now, I thought was our first kiss, was truly a mistake. One that I intentionally tried to block out and severe regret lights my veins, causing my heart to tear apart even more.
“How do you know about that?” I lower my voice, shame coating my tone.
His eyes bleed with the only kind of pain that can be associated with irrefutable proof. He had to have seen it, witnessed me yet again, betraying him. But if he truly did see it, he’d know that it was a mistake. He would have seen that I didn’t initiate it and that I was the one who stopped it.
Trace turns around, giving me his back as he runs his fingers through his hair. I don’t know what to say that will make this better, so I just decide to start with the truth. I close my eyes, lowering my voice and hoping he’ll listen to my words and hear me out.
“You hadn’t answered my calls or responded to my texts. You didn’t even come to the hospital to see me. I felt like you were avoiding me and I couldn’t understand why. It scared me. At first, I wondered if maybe you were also dead and your body was still out there, or if it had been claimed and I just didn’t know.But then I was questioned by the detectives about what happened that night and I just couldn’t seem to remember anything. That’s when they told me that it was suspicious, that because I couldn’t remember, it was an admission of guilt or of knowing something and protecting someone. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me and I thought maybe you might have heard and thought I had something to do with it. But I needed you, so a few days after I had gotten out of the hospital, I went to your house to find you, Trace."
I stop there, hoping he's listening but not fully wanting to relieve that night and my gravest lapse in judgment. At least one that I can remember. Those days between finding my brother’s body and realizing Trace had left me behind, I felt the worst case of depression I think I’ve ever known. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even really tell those days apart anymore because they all just kind of blend together.
“I wasn't home” he says calmly, his back still to me.
I want to step up to him and wrap my arms around him. I want to kiss the scratches on his back and trace his tattoos with my fingers again. I want to hold him. But I can’t seem to move and I'm not sure he'd want me to. So I stay.
“Your bike was gone, the lights were all off.” I close my eyes again, going back to that moment. Remembering the emptiness I'd felt as I walked up to his house when I realized that no one was home. “I wanted you to be the one to comfort me. I needed you to help me understand, to help me through everything. I wanted to be there for you and you just weren’t there. You left and never came back.”
When I open my eyes this time, all of the lights are off and the house is dead quiet. Silence greets us and I feel the eeriness that lowers around us, like something is lurking. The haunted house is absolutely still, and that's when I realize everyone has left and now it’s just him and I.
Trace turns around to face me, but I can barely make him out in the dark. I wrap my arms around myself, starting to feel a panic bubble in my chest, wondering what he's thinking or what's going to happen next with us. I just gave up every last bit of control I had to him and I'm displaying that very result right now. If he wanted to break me, he could. But I won't give up this moment without trying to fix what I can between us.
