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I want them to be free of the guilt they have no business carrying. Not for myself. I don’t need freedom. The scars and the pain are familiar to me. But it cuts them when I break. When I bleed. It hurts them to see me struggle.
They deserve to put the past behind them and that’s why I try so hard to put the past behind me.
But I’ve never been successful.
Until today.
Until I saw the truth of my past spilling out in words that sound so apathetic. So cold. So raw.
And it didn’t break me.
Kastle remains in the background but, when my mother releases me, he steps forward. “I’ll fix this.”
“What do you mean?” Dad asks, wiping the tears on his pale and wrinkled cheek.
I meet Kastle’s dark eyes. See the anger in them. The frustration.
He’s hurting too. He’s going to do something new, something uncomfortable, maybe even painful.
For me.
“I’ll come with you,” I say.
“Are you going to the media? Will you give a statement?” Mom asks.
“No.” I glance at Kastle. “But I do have something I need to say.”
Black eyes glint with conflict and despair. “Okay.”
The expression remains as we drive to his childhood home. As we park in the extravagant garage house. As we greet the housekeeper and follow her up the sweeping staircase.
I want to hold his hand, but he’s all stone. Granite. Hard edges. Sharp pointed arrows. He’s wearing that armor for her, not for me. Still, I reach out just before we push the door to Amelia’s office.
Kastle stops, but his face is set like steel. I can hear the thumping of his heart. This is new. This courage. And he’s trying to ride the wave of his anger while it’s hot. While it gives him the power to speak and move and make change.
I want him to stop and think. I don’t want him to explode.
He meets my eyes.
I step closer. Cup his jaw. “She’s still your mom.”
“I know.”
“If this is because of me—”
“It’s something that needs to happen.”
I dig my fingers into his shirt and remind him, “I have something to say too.”
He nods. Opens the door.
Amelia is waiting for us. Sunlight spills through her lavish French windows. Falls over her blunt bob and the face sharpened by needles, expensive potions and greed. I watch her and expect to feel anger. But I don’t. All I feel is pity.
Someone that closed off and wicked will never appreciate the gifts she has. Someone like that will never be satisfied.
“You came too, Kaelyn?” Her smile resembles a wolf. “I thought Kastle would come alone.”
“I thought you’d want to see me.”
