“Why?”
“Because talking would make it real!” I shout at her.
She smiles faintly and sits next to me.
“The Hamilton and Alvaro-Pascual study you mentioned in the first lesson.”
I stare at her hands.
“Just because something is happening inside your head doesn’t make it less real,” she says. “Your brain might experience it as real solely because of the emotional reaction you have to it. It is real, because it happened.”
“Don’t,” I plead with her, and my eyes wander up into hers. I don’t want to. But they do.
“El died. She killed herself. And it wasn’t your fault.”
My hands begin to shake.
“It is!” I shout as the edges of my vision become black, and I see Jane like through a tunnel. Panic sears through me.
“No,” she says. “El made a decision for herself. She decided. She decided to make her father pay. And she was successful with it. She decided to break free and not be his toy.”
“How do you even know?” I say under my breath.
“Took a guess from the charges he was arrested with.”
He got arrested.
But that means she could have lived?—
She could’ve?—
“I told her to do something for herself—I—I—she—that night, she pushed me to you, because she knew what I feel?—“
More tears stream down my face as a hollow void consumes my chest.
“She told me she was always alone, and she protected herself from being heartbroken. It’s all my fault, because I love two women. It is all my fault. I killed her. Just like I killed my brother.”
My entire body trembles.
I killed my brother.
I lied to the only friend I ever had.
I lied to everyone I knew.
I pushed the woman I love into killing herself.
I didn’t take care of her, like I should have, because I was distracted with myself and Jane.
I killed El.
It is all my fault.
All of it.
24
JANE
