Page 98 of Kill Me

He opens the door and holds out his hand to help me out of the car. We make our way with Ted and our things to the beach. The temperature is starting to drop, so I grabbed the blanket out of the boot, because once we’re here, we’re not leaving until the sun has set. Sunsets are my favourite thing in the entire world. Before, I loved them, but they didn’t make me feel alive. Now, that’s exactly what they do. Watching the sun go down on another day and knowing I’ll be choosing to wake up the next day fills me with a joy that I never knew I was capable of.

We settle on the beach and eat lunch while Ted runs us ragged with the ball before we lie back, and I get to test out my new baby.

“How did you know which books to pick?” I ask him.

“Because I pay attention. And I know you. Read to me,” he says.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yes, really.”

And that’s that. We spend the rest of the evening on the beach, decompressing from the day I’ve had before I have to start thinking about what’s next. My need for revenge is getting bigger; it’s an itch I need to scratch, and the more memories that come back, the sharper the knife it’s gonna take to scratch it.

Chapter Fifty Two

Harley - Present Day

Day 2 of therapy

After our night at the beach, Quinn asked for a few days away, just the two of us. So I rented an Airbnb, and we hit the road. We had a blast. Just a new couple, young and in love and ready to tackle life together.

But now we’re back. She decided she didn’t need anymore ketamine infusions because her memories are coming back thick and fast. Her pain is managed, and she’s in a relatively normal sleeping pattern. She still wants to do talking therapy together, so we will continue with our routine sessions in the daytime and see where it leads us.

Today, we have a smaller session. Only for an hour. I don’t want this to consume any more of her time than it has to. Plus, this evening, she has a revenge planning session with Lulu. Apparently, one woman riddled with feminine rage in my life wasn’t enough; I had to go and find another.

We go through our usual pre-therapy routine. Hydration, snacks and of course, Ted.

“What do you want to talk about today?” I ask her.

“School.” That reply surprises me.

“Okay. Anything in particular?”

“Yes. My best friend, Tommo.”

She looks pensive. Nervous. Like I’m about to turn into the Hulk, big and green and angry that she dared to have a man in her life before me.

My brain shortcircuits. What did she just say?

“Who was Tommo?”

“Tommo was a kid in my school. We bonded because we were both outcasts.” There’s no fucking way. I would have known. Wouldn’t I?

I clear my throat. “Okay. Tell me about Tommo.”

I’m sure there are thousands of Tommos in the world. It doesn’t mean she’s talking about the same one. But remember earlier on in our story, when I told you there had only ever been one other girl for me. The one I’d never been able to find? I was her Tommo. Thomas is my middle name and the name I used to go by because I was either taunted for being named after a motorbike or having the same surname as the national day of love.

“He was the best friend a girl could have wanted. Before you, I genuinely thought he would be the one for me. We were a slow burn waiting for the right time, and then my mum tried to kill herself, and his parents stopped us from seeing each other.”

What the fuck? It is her. I actually want to cry. I’ve spent my entire life since they took me away at the age of twelve looking for her. We weren’t in the same class, so I would call her Marie, and she would call me Tommo, like our middle names were secret identities and no one would ever be able to infiltrate us. There was no need to talk about the bad stuff.

“Baby…”

“Are you mad?”

“What? Why would I be mad?”

“Because I thought he was the one.”