As I stood, my legs trembled. Every step towards the door felt like it would be my last before I would collapse.
When I stepped into the hallway, Mother was still sat on the bench where I’d left her. Our eyes met. Hers regarded me with the same bone-chilling glare.
“Beth!” someone called out my name, someone familiar.
“Beth!”
Before I could respond to the call, there was the heavy sound of footfalls against the tiled floor as a figure approached me. Then the person tackled me in a hug right after, long arms wrapped tightly around me, warm and comforting.
I pressed my face into Kenzo Takahashi’s damp jersey, breathing in his scent. He smelt of lilac, sunshine and grass. His breaths were heavy, the adrenaline from the game still buzzing beneath his veins.
“How was it?” he asked, pulling away gently, worry settling in the depth of his ocean eyes. “You alright?”
“They said I could go,” I murmured, my throat tight. “I suppose they’d get back to me?”
Kenzo Takahashi was my best friend. My only friend, really.
He was the one who wouldn’t hesitate to pick me up if I was a rusted penny by the roadside, the one that waited outside witha glue to patch my heart whenever I got it broken again…and for some reason, I always got it broken.
He had tried to scare away my monsters. But my monsters were spun from an ancient magic, strong and adamant. So it never worked.
Kenzo and I had been friends since I was 12. I had met him at the new church Mother dragged us to…again because the women in the former church were nosey and annoying.
They had taken me to the children department. Made me sit next to him. Made us hold hands as we prayed.
He’d had this boyish charm–still had it, by the way–a kind smile. And he’d smelt of lilac and half-remembered dreams.
I had wanted to touch his hair that rivalled the sun, feel the burning golden hue beneath the brush of my fingers. And I did. And he didn’t complain.
We sat next to each other again the Sunday after that. Then the next. And many more, until a full year was completed.
I made sure of it.
We became inseparable. The other side of each other’s coin. Kenzo Takahashi was the glue holding my soul together. But he probably didn’t really know.
The sound of the door opening echoed in the quiet hall. Mr. Coker’s head tucked out.
“Miss Fraser?” His eyes were on Mother.
“Yes?” Her tone was kinder than it ever was when talking to me. She was always more human to strangers than her only daughter.
“Could you come in for a second, please?” Mr. Coker asked.
“Sure.” Mother nodded, a barely there smile lifting the curve of her lips.
Before she made it in, her eyes swept to me, and there was a flash of anger in them, an evidence of distaste. Then, she turned her face toward the room, walking in after Mr. Coker.
“She’s angry,” I said to Kenzo.
“Is there a moment she isn’t?” he scoffed, his hands lifting from my shoulder, one grabbing my wrist. I had to bite down on my lip to hold a hiss when his thumb grazed the raw skin beneath the arm warmer.
He didn’t have to know that I was still this broken, cutting myself to bleed out this black blood Mother said ran in my veins.
He led me to the bench Mother just stood from, and made me sit. He plopped next to me, legs kicked forward, his head thrown against the wall gently. Then, he turned his neck slightly, looking at me.
“You’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly, intertwining our fingers on his lap. “Whatever happens, you’re going to be damn alright.”
The door suddenly opened and my heart leapt, my hand jolting from Kenzo’s own as I rushed to my feet.
