Page 105 of Deliverance

Skyla smiles gratefully and nods.

“Thank you, and I never got to thank you and Maryia for coming with me to lunch the other day. I really like her for you.”

Suddenly, my smile becomes strained at the reminder of my girlfriend. We all grabbed lunch downtown a week ago, before everything that happened with Bridgette and before Sky went practically off the grid. Life was so simple just a week ago. How did things get so fucked so fast?

“Yeah,” I say as I take a bite.

Sky frowns. “Do we not like her anymore? Did you guys break up?”

“What? Why?” I ask.

Her brows furrow. “Because you’re acting like you couldn’t care less about her. What happened? You guys were practically dry fucking on the table when we went to lunch the other day.”

I shrug. “She’s really jealous. We fight a lot,” I lie. Well, it’s not a lie. Both are true statements, though neither are the reason for my hesitance with her.

“Really?” Skyla asks with a frown. “That sucks. If you can’t have trust in a relationship, then there is no use in having one.”

Her words are like a knife in my gut, twisting and turning as guilt eats at me. Fuck. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m not this person. I don’t do this. I don’t cheat. I don’t lie. I’m upfront and honest, always.

My mouth opens, and I’m ready to spill my guts to Skyla when she speaks.

“How is Bridgette?”

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly, instantly on edge.

“I may have been MIA, but people still talk, Mags. I heard that she was taken out of her dorm on a stretcher, you giving her CPR.”

Skyla levels me with a look and waits in silence. It’s not a judgmental one, more like one of patience. She’s opened up the field and is waiting to see what I’m going to do with it. I lick my lips nervously, unsure of what to say. I know Bridgette. I know she wants as little people to know as possible. She’s too proud, too vulnerable, and even for my best friend, I won’t betray her privacy like that. So, I keep it vague.

“She was sick. I found her.”

“That was convenient,” Skyla says.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs, pushing her plate to the side.

“I just didn’t realize you two stayed in contact. I thought after the whole fork thing, you two?—”

“We did or didn’t. I actually don’t know where you were going with that. It was luck. I had a feeling, and I found her in her room. Called 911. It’s not a big deal.” I shrug.

Skyla tilts her head to the side like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for it. Soon, the conversation falls into simple comfortability. We end up finishing dinner and decide on a movie. We’re halfway through Skyla’s favorite comedy when I grab us a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

I hear the sound of my phone ding and Skyla picks it up, reading the screen.

“It’s Harry,” she says. “He says that you need to come home for therapy tonight or?—”

She pauses mid-sentence as all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Slowly, I turn to see Skyla staring at my phone with a frown. Her eyes swing to my own as she tilts her head.

“Maggie, why would he need to threaten you to go to therapy? Since when are you even in therapy? Why is he scheduling it? Why?—”

She cuts herself off, the cogs in her head turning before realization widens her eyes. Her gaze flicks down to my arms that are conveniently covered with a long sleeved shirt. I know what she’s looking for. Skyla spotted the cigarette burns a little bit ago. She questioned me then, but thankfully dropped it. I can tell by the look on her face I won’t be granted that courtesy twice.

“Maggie,” she says evenly. She seems to be struggling with her words before she finally speaks. “He doesn’t…does he?”

I swallow. “What do you mean?”

“Is Harry trying to…convert you? Is he forcing you to participate in some kind of…conversion therapy? To make you…”

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