Page 67 of You are the Reason

“Yeah, Pip, I’m here,” I say, walking out into the hallway, closing the door to the spare room behind me. She’s standing at the bottom of the staircase, trembling, with her arms wrapped around herself.

“I woke up and —” she looks to the ground, her eyes lacking the gold flecks I’ve come to love, “— I, uh, I was alone.”

Tipping her chin slightly so her eyes meet mine, I search for all the scars that live buried under the surface; I want to heal them all. “You’ll never be alone again. That I can promise you.”

I scoop her up into my arms to carry her back upstairs and, as we walk, she relaxes in my hold and nuzzles in against my chest. This isn’t at all how today should have played out. I can’t even stand here, and be grateful to have her back in my arms, knowing the circumstances that have brought us here.

In her bedroom, the French doors rattle gently in the summer breeze and I notice Lou has moved herself over to a blanket in the corner. I place Kinsley down on the left side of the bed, before stripping down to my briefs and climbing in beside her. She rolls towards me, placing her hand on my chest.

“This one’s new.” She inspects curiously, tracing my fresh ink with her finger, and I hum in response.

The little 444 sits directly across my heart. I got Carter to do it the night Jesse and I had the conversation about him needing me to protect her. The night he asked me to fulfil the promise he made to Kyle, if for some reason he was no longer able to. At the time I thought he was being irrational, but now …

“Why these numbers?” her voice pulls me back into the present.

“444 signifies protection,” I pause, tucking her hair behind her ear. “— and I made a promise.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Kinsley

Tanner buttons his shirt and tucks it into his slacks as I continue to pick the invisible lint off of my black pencil skirt. My stomach feels as though it’s in my chest, my palms sweaty.

It’s been a long week, the days full of police interviews and funeral planning. Dad’s the one who has had to spend the most time down at the station; he seems to be doing okay though. I almost laugh at that thought.Are any of us really okay?Dark humour has been my saving grace, even though I am convinced that Tanner is only days away from having me locked up in a psych ward.

“Hey girl, it’s just me!” Sophie calls out from downstairs.Did she knock?I didn’t even hear the door open.

Warmth trails up my neck; Tanner’s eyes are on me, I can feel it. He tips my chin up, stealing my attention with his deep blue eyes. “I’ll go down and send her up. When you’re ready, we will get going.”

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently catches a tear falling down my cheek.Thank God for waterproof mascara.

The click-clack of heels carry Sophie up the stairs as I straighten my silk blouse, fiddling with the already fastened buttons. I don’t want to be seen today and I don’t mean physically seen, I can handle that; I meanseen. I don’t want someone to peel the layers away, breaking into the hurt and anger that I’ve been locking up inside of me. If someone manages to let it out, I won’t be able to contain it. It will consume me; the darkness, the shadows, the voices. Everything I have crammed into the box in the corner of my mind.

The only person I want to confide in, is the same person I’m going to say goodbye to for the final time. The person who put themselves in danger to protect me. He would know what to do. He would reach inside my mind, take the box, and place it in front of us. Then, whilst holding my hand, he would open it and slowly let each emotion creep out. First, the sadness and the guilt; I would cry in his arms, as he stroked my hair and whispered sweet nothings. Letting me sit in silence, just holding me. Second, the anger, frustration and resentment. Even though targeted at him, he would help me glove up and let me exert all the built-up tension. Then would come the emptiness; the soul-crushing feeling of abandonment. My pulse thumps in my head at the thought, the sound dulling out all my surroundings.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I want to scream, the repetition becoming too much for me to handle.

Make it stop!

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How can I make it stop?

Strong hands grip my shoulders, their fingertips pressing in. Slowly, I hear them; the sobs and sniffles in the background. My eyes dart around unfocused, before landing on Tanner standing directly in front of me. He’s sternly calling my name, trying to bring me back.

* * *

Sitting front row at a funeral hits differently. In all honesty, if I wasn’t required front row at a funeral, I probably wouldn’t go. I don’t understand those oldies, you know the ones. The ones that check the local paper and read the death notices to see if there is anyone that they know. I guess it’s just the progression of life though, right? Engagement announcements, weddings, pregnancies and births … Then the death notices.

This is my fifth time sitting in the front row at a funeral. Five fucking times. Pale, grieving faces of people dressed in black flash in my vision from each funeral I’ve attended.

Nine years old when my dad was presumed dead.

Ten years old to bury my brother.

Seventeen years old when Jesse’s dad passed away.

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