THE UNINVITED GUEST
EMERY
My cheeks hurt from smiling.It’s such a wonderful pain. I can’t help myself. I can’t help but feel so damn happy as I float downstairs, my body light, my heart so full. Despite the lingering discomfort from what I can only describe as a life-altering fuckfest, I feel so goddamn fulfilled. So content.
I didn’t know I could reach this level of happiness. I thought it was impossible. I thought the part of me that was capable of that emotion died on the operating table.
I remember the day when I felt at my lowest. It’s tattooed into my brain. A reminder of who I was before they opened my heart and I opened mine. Quin was right. In order to love someone, or be loved, you need to be vulnerable. Until I met them, I’ve never shown anyone any vulnerability, not even myself.
I stand in front of the fridge, the door ajar, and I stare at the produce, my mind slipping into a moment so drastically different than the one I’m currently experiencing.
My childhood bedroom feels like a prison. Or maybe it’s a graveyard. The walls scream with pieces of my former self. I feel my past in this room. But not my present. Not my future.
Who am I now?
I lie alone in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin as I trace the ragged scar on my chest. This gift of life feels like a damn anchor. My parents are downstairs, laughing and celebrating. They're happy I'm alive, grateful for the second chance this donor's heart has given me.
Yet, as I run my fingers over the raised and discolored skin, there’s a heaviness in my chest—a different kind of burden I’ve never felt before. Sorrow courses through my veins. Regret. Confusion. I’m supposed to be recovering. I suppose I am. Physically. But emotionally…emotionally I feel broken. So fucking shattered.
Loss. That’s what I feel. I should be celebrating. Reveling in the hope that comes with a beating heart that isn't my own. Instead, I’m mourning something, someone, that I never even knew.
Tears roll down my face, unbidden and unstoppable. I press the base of my palms against my ungrateful eyes, hoping to push back the tears, send them away. The sobs shake me. My entire body shakes.
Who am I? Why is this happening?
I sit in my childhood bedroom alone, letting the tears fall, letting the grief and confusion wash over me.
Alone.
I feel so fucking alone.
I blink, willing my mind to return to the present. Memories of that night cling to me like sticky cobwebs as I stand before the refrigerator light. The hollow ache still lingers but I push it aside. I’m not alone. Not anymore.
I’ve got my lifelines.
And they’ve got me.
I collect veggies, dips, and few other snacks from the fridge. They must be as famished as I am. The refrigerator hums, a soothing, almost hypnotizing sound. But as I close the door, all sense of peace shatters. A jarring click sounds from across the kitchen—a sound I’ve heard before.
The hammer of a gun being pulled back.
I freeze, the vegetables slipping from my grasp and crashing onto the floor.
A cold and calculated voice slices through the silence. "Hello, Emery."
No.
Simone emerges from the shadows, illuminated by the eerie light of the bright full moon. A gun dangles from her hand, a malevolent glint in her eyes. The way she looks at me is terrifying, unsettling, almost inhuman in its wrath.
I take a step back, my gaze darting toward the staircase that leads upstairs. Panic sets in and a thousand thoughts race through my mind.
How did she find me? What does she want? What about Damon? And Quin? Are they okay? Did she?—
"You say one word and I will shoot," Simone warns me in a venomous whisper. She rounds the kitchen island, the gun steady in her hand.
My pulse quickens, and my throat tightens with fear. "What... What do you want?"
Simone's lips curl into a sinister smile. "What do I want?" She repeats my question mockingly. "I want justice, Emery. I want you to pay for what you've done."
