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I shake my head and start to type a message. It’s early, and they will most likely be sleeping and won’t respond right away. “What are you typing?” he asks, giving me a bit of privacy by not reading over my shoulder, so I read it out as I type.
“Hi, not sure if this message will come through, but I wanted you to know I am safe. And if you are comfortable with it, I would love to see you again.”
I turn to look at Kyson. “Do you think they will see me?” I ask him, my tone filled with hope.
“Of course, they will.”
My eyes start to get heavy, and I press send. My heart rate picks up, and I feel nervous.
Really nervous.
But I shouldn’t be because my parents love me. Whatever it was that Tony felt for me was anything but love.
“Do you want to be there when I kill him?” Kyson asks.
“No, I do not.”
“Do you want to say anything to him before he dies?”
I think on that for a second before I meet his eyes and reply with, “I do.”
“Okay. When you’re feeling better, we’ll make that happen.”
“You’re just gonna make him wait down there?” I ask, not sure what he has planned.
“Of course. He has nothing better to do.” He smiles at me, and I smile back.
I start to fall asleep, and Kyson molds the blankets over me. I want to tell him thank you, but I can’t seem to get the words out because sleep takes me.
When I dream, I dream of a white wedding.
My white wedding.
And at the end of the aisle waiting for me…is Kyson.
Something in me tells me that’s a lie.
Twenty-Five
Kyson
It’s three days later when she feels well enough to walk around. Kalilah showered the day after everything went down and hasn’t done so since. But when I walk into the bedroom, she is sitting on the end of the bed, trying to get up.
“You want a shower?” I ask.
She looks at me pleadingly, and I walk over to help her. If she were anyone else, she wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t be helping her. In my relationship with Lilly, I never helped her with anything. I was incredibly self-centered, and I expected her to meet all of my needs. I don’t expect anything from Kalilah. Somehow, the roles have reversed, and I’m willing to do anything to make sure she’s okay.
My brothers want to know if I really do want out of this life. I’ve mentioned it a few times to them, but I haven’t really had a straight answer. I enjoy what I do, and that is the biggest issue. How can you enjoy being so fucked-up that the sheer mention of your name makes other people run?
“Do you have plans today?” she asks.
She’d been worried about work, about how she’s only just started and has already called in sick. I handled that for her, though. Lady McBeth was more than happy to call on her behalf and say she’s working with her for the next few weeks so it doesn’t reflect poorly upon her.
And her parents haven’t replied.
She checks her phone several times a day, hoping they’ve messaged her back, but they either haven’t seen the message or don’t believe it’s her. I try not to mention it. I have her parents’ cell numbers, and I figure I’ll give them another week before I message them myself.
“I have plans to spend it with you, watching that trash you call TV.”
