Her head fell to the side as she filled in the pause. “Lana.”
Lana.
That was all I needed for my mind to clear.
I knew those eyes because Marcus had the same ones. Their skin was the same shade. But her accent was way thicker than his. His was barely a hint.
“Marcus’s sister.” I guessed, even though I knew exactly who she was.
“Guilty.” She shuffled, her brows pinching. “He didn’t tell you he called, did he?”
I shook my head. “No.” I shuffled too. “He said he doesn’t talk to you much.”
Her smile pulled tight. “I don’t know why, but he doesn’t. You’re right.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “But he knows I’m here when he needs me. And when he called and told me what happened…” Her eyes rounded, softened, like she was looking in a mirror. “I came as fast as I could. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” I blurted, not knowing why.
She sighed and got up from her seat, wandering over to the spot next to me and claiming it, harsh sun hitting the high points of her face. “I’m sorry about you, too.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be; it’s not nearly as hard as what you had to go through.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t make it any less painful. Situations like ours, they aren’t ranked. If we hurt, we hurt, and regardless of what happened to cause it, it’s valid.” Her back arched a little, looking at me. Really looking. “You know that, right?”
No.
“I guess.”
Her smile was covered with sadness. “You don’t. I know you don’t.”
My brows pulled, as I threw my shields up. “You’ve been me for two seconds, and you think you know me?”
Lana paused, eyes bouncing between mine. Then, her smile grew. “I can see why Marcus likes you. You’ve got fire.”
“It’s genetic, apparently.”
Thank you, Mum.
Lana tilted her head and smiled softer, her lips thinning. “Good. It’s a good thing to have. Especially when you’ve been through what you have.”
I don’t know why I was suddenly so defensive, but I didn’t know how to stop it either. It was that pressure I felt whenever counselling was mentioned after the attack. Some weird part of me must have thought that speaking about it made it real and that was just too scary for me to even imagine.
“Why exactly are you here?” I bit out. I didn’t mean to.
She shrugged, sneaking a dagger past my armour. “Marcus called me and said that you might want to talk to someone you could relate to.”
“Well, I’m not exactly in a very talkative mood.” Without thinking I got up and headed for the door, my back turned to her. “Sorry you wasted the trip—”
“You’re not sleeping, are you?”
I turned back to face her, heart plummeting.
“And you’re blaming yourself for everything. For not being okay, for causing this in the first place, for being too kind, for being hurt—is this ringing any bells?”
My breath quickened, and I froze in place.
“You’re scared of losing yourself, so you’re trying to figure out all the ways you can make it go away and life can get back to normal, right?”
Yes.
