“Jesus, Kara.” Andrews leans forward and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have too many unanswered questions.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I mumble. So many unanswered questions, and it’s doing my head in. I’m doing my head in.
“Where is he?”
“Showering,” I reply, arms folded over my chest, watching the flickering fire. “I need to talk to him. I’m just hiding in here a bit longer first.”
Andrews forces a smile. “You can’t fight this; you can’t fight him.”
“I can.”
He rolls his eyes, his lips quirking. “Always so stubborn. It’s one of your biggest flaws and will be your downfall. Too stubborn to ask for help, too stubborn to admit when you’re wrong, too stubborn to face your demons.”
“I’m not,” I say defensively. He quirks one of his eyebrows at me. I take a gulp of whiskey. “Okay, fine, I’m stubborn. But I’m not too stubborn to face my demons.”
“So, what are you waiting for?”
“Dutch courage, it would seem.”
He chuckles lightly. “Sitting in here by the fire won’t give you the closure you need.”
“Who says I need closure?”
“Years, Kara. Years you have carried that man around with you. Don’t lose your present to your past.”
“Oh God, he’s getting sentimental.”
“Not at all. But you can never fully say goodbye to Lucy until you understand why he left. Until then, you’re still a prisoner. You’re still that little girl hiding in the wardrobe.”
26
Owen - Age 17
She’slate.
She’s never late. I check my messages. Not seeing any, I throw it onto the bed and continue pacing.
It’s 6:00 p.m. If she’s not back before James, he’s going to throw a shit fit.
The front door slams, followed by the pads of her feet running up the stairs. I rush across my bedroom and open my door.
“You’re cutting it too fine, Cookie, he’s” The lecture dies on my lips as I take in her dishevelled appearance. Her makeup is smudged under her red-rimmed eyes. “What the fuck? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Her voice squeaks and she turns away quickly. She knows I can smell her bullshit a mile away. I’m across the stairs in an instant.
“Cookie.” I grip her arm, but she flinches away from me, her arms wrapping around herself. The action is like a punch to the gut.
What. The. Fuck.
“Hey.” I touch her shoulders gently and spin her towards me, stooping to meet her tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”
She nods, but falls into my chest and cries, her tears soaking into my t-shirt. I can’t do anything but wrap my arms around her and hold her to me as she falls apart.
My head screams at me, my heart shatters. I want to demand her to tell me what happened so I can kill whoever’s hurt her. But not when she’s like this. Not when her sobs are sending splinters of pain into my chest.
She calms down, mutters her thanks, and tells me she’s okay.
She’s not.
