“Who?” I press, searching her eyes. “What’s over?”
But she’s gone. Just like that, her eyes glaze over, panic rolling off her in waves.
“Mom. Why didn’t you tell me you all knew each other?”
She lets out a broken sob, hands clamping over her ears.
“I didn’t mean to,” she rambles. “They can’t know. They can’t know we remember.”
“Ma. Look at me.” I cup her face. “Remember what?”
Then she screams, her cries coming out ragged and as if something feral just ripped out of her chest. Her entire body jerks, her knees buckling as if the memories are physically dragging her under.
“Ma. I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”
She collapses against me. Before I can make sense of anything, two nurses rush over. I back off as they swoop in, soothing her, checking her pulse, and guiding her away.
“She’s overstimulated,” one of them says. “You’ll need to leave now.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, still standing there, rooted to the grass, my fist curling tight as my nails bite into my palms.
This encounter, her reaction to that picture, only leaves me with more questions and no goddamn answers.
They disappear with my mother through the doors. After a while, I snatch up the photo and I finally head back toward the building.
What the hell happened back then? And why the hell is Sam looking into it?
I inch through the halls, my mind racing to put the pieces of the puzzle together. And as I turn the corner and step into the lobby, my name cuts through the chaos in my head.
“Kane.”
I glance up. Sam stands from the bench in front of the reception desk, her arms wrapped around herself as if she’s bracing for something. My jaw clenches, and I lunge forward. Her eyes widen as I close the distance and grip her arm to pull her through the front door and down the steps.
“You’re hurting me.”
I’m blinded by the rage building in my gut but still loosen my hold. People stare, but I don’t give a shit. I reach into my pocket for my fob to pop the lock on my Audi then yank the passenger door open the moment we reach it.
“Get in,” I demand.
Sam stares for a beat but doesn’t challenge me. She gets in, and I slam the door shut before rounding the front and climbing behind the wheel. I power on the car and peel away from the curb, my foot heavy on the gas.
“Kane. Slow down,” she pleads while fumbling to put on her seat belt.
I ignore her and tighten my grip on the wheel. The engine growls as if it knows I need to outrun these emotions, but I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I need to be far away from that place, away from my mother’s screams.
I cut a hard right, tires screeching as we duck down a side street behind a diner, past the train station and the school district offices. The entrance of an alleyway comes into view beside an abandoned convenience store, and I yank the wheel, barely missing the brick wall. I slam into park, sending gravel spinningbeneath my tires. Sam breathes hard, her chest heaving as she clutches her seat belt.
“What is wrong with you?”
I don’t answer her; I can’t. My lungs constrict and my knees bounce as I twitch with unspent anger. I stare ahead, my teeth grinding so hard it hurts.
“I didn’t know,” she says.
I hate the sincerity in her voice. Hate that she’s seeing right through me, that she’s showing concern.
“Has she been in there all this time?” she whispers.
“Start talking… now. I showed my mom that picture and she fucking lost it.”
