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CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
IAN
Kyler looked overwhelmed– but like the burden she was carrying was a little bit lighter at the same time – when she walked out of Christine’s office. She’d asked me if I would come and just wait in the waiting room during her first appointment, and I’d agreed without hesitation. I’d seen a therapist for a while after my mom died, and I remembered how nerve-wracking that first appointment had been.
“How’d it go?” I asked as I put away my headphones and phone and stood up.
She gave me a small smile while bundling herself back up to face the frigid January weather. “Better than I thought. Christine wants to see me once a week for a little while. And she gave me a lot to think about.”
I put my letterman jacket back on and donned my gloves.
“Like what?” I asked, then mentally kicked myself. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay. I want to tell you,” she said as we started to walk toward the elevator. “She thinks my PTSD isn’t just from my assault. She thinks part of it is from how my mom treated me too. And that I have ongoing trauma from what’s happening at school too.”
None of that came as a surprise to me. I’d thought for a long time that the way Brenda treated Kyler had a lot to do with the fact that she blamed herself for her assault. And the constant bullying she’d been subjected to ever since had probably only made matters worse. I was just glad that she was finally in a place where she’d felt safe enough to seek out the help she needed.
“That makes a lot of sense. Did you feel like you clicked with her?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I was kind of nervous about that, but she was great. She asked probing questions, but I didn’t feel pressured to talk about anything I wasn’t ready for. It just felt like she was trying to figure out where to go from here. And she’s going to have the medical doctor in the practice prescribe me some anxiety medication too.”
“I’m glad,” I sighed in relief as we got onto the elevator. “I mean, not about the meds, but that you connected with Christine. I don’t know her that well, but I’ve always liked her.”
“I’m glad about the meds,” she chuckled weakly. “I think I need them. I wish I could have done this a long time ago.”
I pulled her into my arms and dropped a kiss on her head. “I know. But now you’re in a place where you’re safe and supported while you’re getting the help you need.”
The ice-cold air felt like a slap in the face as we walked outside, and the air had that crisp smell that foretold snow sometime tonight. Becausemoresnow was definitely what we needed. We’d just gotten four inches two days ago.
As we approached the spot where Kyler’s car was parked, I noticed tons of footprints in the snow all around it that hadn’t been there when we’d walked into the office an hour ago. It had been the only vehicle in the vicinity when we’d parked, and now, there was only this car and one other car, which I assumed was Christine’s. It was almost five-thirty, so I guessed everyone else had gone home.
I had no idea why, but an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and I could tell Kyler was equally as worried. She grabbed my hand and threaded her gloved fingers through mine, squeezing tight. I took a deep breath, knowing that I needed to be the calm one out of the two of us if somethingwasout of the ordinary.
And it turned out that my gut instinct was right. Because underneath the front windshield wiper on the driver’s side of the car was a sheet of paper, and when I grabbed it, it took everything in me not to throw up.
I found myself looking at what was clearly a still shot from the video of Kyler’s assault that the police still hadn’t been able to locate. She was lying in the dirt with tears streaming down her face and an expression of pure terror in her eyes. Her bra was pulled down, the bite mark on her breast was bleeding, and the three cigarette burns on her stomach were not just red and bloody, but also dirty, like someone had purposely rubbed dirt in them.
I knew what had happened to her. I’d heard her say it time and again. But hearing it was very different than actuallyseeinga picture of her from that night. I knew this image would be burned into my mind for as long as I lived, and I wished more than anything that I could un-see it.
And if the wasn’t bad enough, there was the message that was scrawled across the top of the page, still in that vaguely familiar handwriting that I couldn’t place to save my life.
This is nothing compared to what’ll happen if you don’t tell the police the truth about what a lying bitch you are and how you BEGGED for more.
I heard a sob tear out of Kyler’s throat, and I quickly folded up the paper and stuffed it in my pocket, then pulled her into my arms. She burrowed herself into my embrace and slid her arms around my waist, and I tried to take some deep breaths to calm myself down, but it was pointless.
“When I find out who’s doing this, I’m going to fucking kill them,” I gritted out.
“They’re scared,” she sniffled. “The trial’s happening so fast, and they know they’ll get convicted. That’s why they’re doing this.”
“We need to call Kyra,” I sighed. “I don’t trust calling 911. Not after the officers that they dispatched to the house on Christmas Eve and the ones who came to school last week just blew us off.”
She nodded against my chest, then let go of me. “Can we at least get in the car first? It’s freezing.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, pulling the key fob out and unlocking the car.
* * *
“Are you fucking serious?!” I growled at Kyra. “What the hell has to happen for you to take this shit seriously?!”
