“That was around the late 1800s,early 1900s. I was born toward the end of their reign over this territory.”
“Wow.” She sighs with admiration. “That’sso cool. I grew up next to a witch when I was a kid, and I remember asking her all kinds of stuff about magic. I thought it was super cool. I used tothink I could grow up to be a witch, but then I realizedthat’snot how it works.” She laughs at herself. “I still have a lot of respect for witches.”
She’s talking nearly a mile a minute, and I can’t help but find it adorable.
“That’s how you knew to ask them for help,” I assume.
She nods with confidence. “I was at her house every day—her daughter became my best friend—and it used to make my mother so mad, because I was always late for dinner.”
She’sgot her legs pulled up against her chest now, knees just under her chin and her brilliant hair falling into the gap. Asstrandsof it disappear between her thigh and her chest, I think about the parts of her body that hair is touching. I think about touching them myself.
It’s been far too long since I’ve been alone with a woman.
“You know, Simone came by last night to see how you were.”
“I know,” she admits. “I ran into her earlier, when I was outside.”
“Oh, really?”
She absentmindedly traces the seam of her black pants. They look softer, andstretchierthan the ones shehad onbefore. “Yeah.She’ssweet.”
“She would probably make a good friend for you,” Itellher.
Kennedy stops her fiddling and stares at me. “What about you?”
I take a shallow breath. “What about me?”
“Do you have any friends? Besides Aidan?”
She’spinned me, and she knows it.
“No,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t.”
She hums knowingly to herself. “Is that because you never leave the house?”
Wow.She’s really not holding back.“Are you always this blunt?”
This silences her. Ididn’tmean to strike back with the same force she struck me—I doubt her intentions were to pry—but it was a reflex. I feel like a wounded animal, my scarsondisplay for all to see. Forherto see.
Mouth agape, she tries to say something, butI’veprobably madeher second guess herself.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize,takinga deep breath. “I didn’t mean that.”
Her chin quivers just slightly. “But I am though.”
“No,you’re not,” I insist. Ireachfor her leg again, but shefloats away, preventing me from making contact.
She moves to the window on the far side of the room and peers outinto the darkened forest.It’s the middle of the night, probably early morning, and everything around us is completely still.The world is resting. Meanwhile,we’rein here…forever restless.
“Adults used to tell me I was too loud as a kid,” she tells me in a hushed tone. Iget to my feet and move closer to hear her better. “In high school, I was told I was too quiet.” She turns her head to look at me. “I never could figure out the right balance.”
Her sheepish smilehitsme like a blinding ray of sun, melting any frozen parts of myselfI washoping to keep hidden in the dark. I want to tell her so much, but as my heart begins to thaw, I settle with confiding just one thing for now.
“I’m afraid to leave the property,” I say without hesitation. “I have been for a long time.”
Kennedy’s expression doesn’t change, but she’s listening. I can see it in her eyes. They’re focused, and patient. “Why?” she asks softly.
I rub my chin.It’sa gesture I remember doing a lot when I was alive.It always helped me pause andthink before I spoke. My mouth feels dry as I try todo thatnow. I feel nauseous,butmaybe it’sjust a side effect of being in my physical body again.
