15
KIRA
The Burrow Bitches
Kira: Have you ever thought your parents lied to you? What did you do?
Macey: My parents have always been pretty up-front with me!
Ariadne: Oh yeah, all the time in a little white lie kind of way. Is that not normal?
Britney: i tried to run away after i found out santa claus wasn’t real
The morning light filtered in through the gauzy curtains of my parents’ living room, alerting me to a new day. I’d given up on sleep hours ago. The couch cushions beneath me were stiff, and the loud noise coming from the refrigerator had become an unwelcome soundtrack to my restless night.
Now, cross-legged on the floor in an old hoodie and leggings, I hunched over my sketchpad. Charcoal dust clung to my fingertips,smudges blooming across the paper as I chased something that didn’t yet exist. No plan, no thumbnail sketch. Just feeling. Raw, brittle, and aching. I let my hand move without thinking. A curve here, a shadow there. Her eyes. His hands. The space between.
I was so deep in it I almost didn’t hear the soft clink of porcelain behind me.
“Tea,” my mother said, voice gentler than I expected.
I looked up. She stood there in her robe, eyes tired, hair still pinned back from the night before. She set the mug on the side table beside me, then hesitated like she wasn’t sure if she should stay or go.
“Thanks,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
She looked at the drawing. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s in progress. I started it this morning,” I murmured. “Didn’t sleep much.”
“I didn’t either.”
Silence stretched between us like a thread pulled too tight. I waited for her to say something else. She didn’t. So I focused on the paper again, smudging in the arch of a shoulder.
“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me yesterday,” she finally said, folding her hands in front of her. “About the letter.”
I froze, the charcoal held mid-air. My heart stuttered.
“I lied,” she murmured. “I did know what Landon was talking about.”
I turned slowly to face her. She wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was locked somewhere distant, toward the bookshelf behind me, or maybe years behind us both.
“I found it. The letter. I was cleaning your room after he left, and I saw it half-tucked under your pillow. I read it.” Her voice cracked. “And I…I made a decision I thought was right at the time.”
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t, considering my throat had turned to stone.
“He hurt you, Kira. And you were so broken after he left. I couldn’t bear to watch you go running back into something that might destroy you all over again.”
“So you decided for me.” My tone was hollow. “You took away my choice.”
She finally looked at me then, and there was no defiance in her eyes, just the weight of regret, heavy and worn.
“I thought I was protecting you. But it wasn’t my place. I know that now.” She stepped closer, then sat down carefully on the edge of the armchair. “I’m sorry.”
The words hung in the air, small and imperfect.
I turned back to my drawing, my fingers numb. The lines on the page blurred. I blinked once. Twice.How could she so easily do that?I couldn’t imagine ever doing that to someone else.
“I spent years thinking he didn’t care,” I whispered. “I built a whole life around the belief that I wasn’t worth fighting for.”
