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JOSIE
Harley’s blood from last night stains the carpet, and I stare down at the scattered droplets at my feet.
I soak the carpet and begin scrubbing in an attempt to avoid thinking about last night. About anything, really. When I run out of things to clean, I feel the burning sensation in my eyes. I blink furiously and then realise I don’t have the strength to stop the tears.
For once, I let myself feel everything. Chest-wracking sobs tear from me so violently that I stumble. I collapse onto my bed, gripping the sheets for support as I cry. So much pain, so many memories, so much time. It’s too much.
I cocoon myself in the blankets and turn the TV on. My eyes ache. Rummaging through my nightstand, I find some leftover Valium I used to take. I swallow the pill down and sink into my pillows, hoping that when I sleep, I dream of nothing.
* * *
Sweat slides down my back and into my eyes. I blink away the sting of it and drag the back of my hand across my brow. It’s a hot, still day. My sneakers slap the pavement in a calming rhythm as I run.
A truck slows beside me, and I glance to see Harley behind the wheel. Wind ruffles his hair, and sunglasses shade his eyes.
“Can’t complain when this is my view on the way to work,” he calls out over the rumble of the engine.
“Kiss my ass.”
“Gladly,” he snickers before tearing from the curb in a cloud of dust.
I glower after the car. My body flushes and I refuse to believe it is from anything other than the unbearable heat. The humid air is suffocating, and I soon have to slow to a walk, feeling light-headed.
I throw my hair into a bun and walk to the swimming pool. If I can’t run, laps of the pool will have to do. I grab my swimmers and towel as I pass my house on the way.
There are two cars in the lot when I arrive, but no one seems to be in the pool. I line up at the canteen to pay the entry fee. A tall woman with mousy brown hair is rearranging things on the shelf. She turns, a warm smile on her face. Once our eyes lock, the smile vanishes.
A slither of ice spikes through my spine as we stare at each other.
“Hello, Mrs. Schneider,” I eventually choke out.
Mrs. Schneider. Nick’s mother. The woman whodespisesme.
She blinks at me for a moment, her mouth twisting. “Josephine. I heard you were back.”
“Yeah.”
I shift my towel to my other arm, feeling immensely uncomfortable.
“Three dollars fifty,” is all she says.
I swallow and quickly count my coins before handing the money over.
“Leave this town and never come back. Do everyone a favour.”Her words, even though said years ago, ring inside my head like it was only yesterday.
I gather my things and start walking when she speaks again.
“Why?” she asks. I turn, hating how dry my mouth feels and the sinking sensation in my stomach. “Why did you come back? After all this time?”
“Karma.”
Her eyes narrow for a moment. I don’t clarify. I push through the gate and head over to the pool, eager to continue my workout. I like the silence when I’m under the water. No one is watching me. No one is listening. It’s just me.
The coldness of the water feels electrifying on my skin as I dive in. I relish in the peacefulness of it as I propel under the surface. I push the soft green eyes of Annabeth—eyes that are so similar to Nick’s—from my mind and try my best to ignore her words.
When I step out of the pool thirty minutes later, I still feel rattled. The workout helped, but the entire time I was consumed with the past and all the anxiety that comes with it.
I towel off and exit, avoiding eye contact with Annabeth. My thongs squelch with each step, and my wet hair sticks to my back. When home, I lock the front door and the windows. I triple-check everything is secure before I sit down in my bathroom, my back against the glass, my knees hugged to my chest. I bury my face into my thighs, wishing my father was here. I don’t know why I’d seek him now, after everything, but I wish for his comforting arms and words of wisdom.
