Chapter Thirty-Three

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We ended up outside Greylock. I don't know if either of us meant to come here, or if we had headed somewhere familiar out of pure instinct.

I leaned against the wall, my head hanging and tears streaming down my face as I tried to get my frantic heart under control. Adrenaline surged throughout my body, making me sick and shaky and on edge, and my scalp ached where Damian had wrenched my hair.

But that was nothing.

Kell leaned beside me, one hand pressed against his side.

"We can't go home, can we? He might follow us there," I said.

The thought of Damian coming to my house, the thought of Lori getting involved with my shit – I couldn't bear it.

Kell shook his head. "With any luck, that dunk in the canal will sober him up, and once he sobers up, he'll lose interest. But I can't go back to Warren's now. I'm done with that."

Warren's house was far from perfect, but Kell relied on it as a place he could go to when he couldn't bear to be at home. Now I had taken that away from him.

Kell shifted and winced, and my stomach turned over. His fingers, where they were pressed against his ribs, were sticky with blood.

In the horrible rush of the fight, I had forgotten – Damian had hurt Kell.

"Let me see," I said, peeling myself off the wall.

Kell shied away from me, his face unreadable, half-hidden in shadows. "It's fine," he muttered.

"No, it isn't." Tears threatened again, and I silently swore to my tear ducts that if they didn't stop, I was going to rip them out. Crying was not fucking helping, especially not when this was all my fault.

If I had opened my goddamned eyes earlier, and seen exactly how bad I was getting and how much worse it would become, then I would never have touched those pills, and we wouldn't be here now.

When Kell had slipped that time, and gone on that two day bender, he had told me that he was no good for me, but he had that all wrong. When he was sliding into a dark place, he had made sure to keep away from me, so he wouldn't drag me into it with him, but apparently I didn't have that same consideration, because when I fucked up, I fucked things up for him too.

Kell lifted the edge of his t-shirt and examined the gash, wincing when he touched it. "It's not deep," he reported.

"You need to go to hospital," I said.

He shook his head. "It doesn't need stitches."

"You don't know that."

Another shake of his head. "It's not that bad. I've got a first-aid kit at home; I can put butterfly stitches on it if I need to. Going to hospital would just waste everyone's time."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I whispered, and despite my mental threat to my tear ducts, a couple of tears still risked escaping.

Kell gave a wry twist of his mouth. "Yeah, I figured."

I didn't say sorry, because what was the point? I had said sorry to him so many times lately, and apparently it meant nothing because I kept making the same mistakes, and he kept getting caught up in my messes. Apologising over and over again without making any actual changes was just adding insult to injury.

And I couldn't promise him that I wouldn't do this again, because I still didn't know that I wouldn't. I had seen the light now, so to speak, but it didn't mean it had completely driven out the ugly, black thing festering inside me. No, I needed to drag that out by myself. If I didn't, it would grow real roots and poison me forever.

Kell went to touch my face, then stopped, and I realised his hand was covered in blood.

"Did he hurt you?" Kell asked.

"No. But he hurt you, and that's just as bad."

I stared at Kell in the semidarkness, committing each line of his face to memory, the way his eyelashes looked like charcoal and his eyebrows like brushstrokes, the way his mouth would curve in that crooked grin, the way his hair always looked like someone had been running their fingers through it.

Because I knew, in that moment, I wouldn't be seeing him again for a while.

And that hurt.

"It's fucking ironic, isn't it?" I said, and my voice came out both sad and bitter.

"What is?"

"For years, I listened to people gossiping about you. They said you were trouble. They said you were no good. You've even said it yourself. But in the end I'm the one who turned out to be no good for you."

His expression changed, his eyebrows drawing together. "Laini –"

"You were right, I do need help. You've always believed in me, more than I deserve, but I put you in serious danger tonight, and that can't happen again."

Kell touched the bloody rip on his t-shirt. "This? It's a scratch."

"No, it isn't. He could have killed you, and it would have been over something I did."

I felt very calm now. Desperately sad, but calm, because this was how things had to be. Just a few hours ago, I'd have said that my exhausted heart couldn't take any more pain and loss, but it was going to have to.

"I need to sort myself out, Kell. And I can't see you again until I do."

My heart twisted inside out.

My throat was full of glass.

Kell stared at me, strands of his hair fluttering in the breeze. "Why are you saying this?" he asked, his voice very quiet.

"Because I have to. You told me that the person I'm becoming isn't the Laini that you know, and you're right. I have no idea who I am, but I know that I don't like myself, and I need to pull myself out of the pit I've fallen into. I didn't want to be that Perfect Laini Lewis anymore, and I still don't, but I have to find some kind of medium between who I was and who I'm turning into. I need to find myself, and then I can find my way back to you."

Kell said nothing, but his jaw was clenched tight.

I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't. It would be too painful. If I was walking away from this, then I needed to do it, now.

"I don't want to lose you," Kell said, his voice hoarse.

"I'm losing myself, and I have to stop that before it's too late. You said that I was the one who'd helped you out of the dark place you were sliding into, and I know you want to be one who saves me in the same way, but it's not working. I'm just hurting you."

I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out to him. If I did that, if I felt the familiar warmth and shape of his hands, then my resolve would crumble.

"I don't expect you to wait, but I really don't want this to be over forever. I hope that you'll still be here when I've sorted myself out," I said.

Kell reached out – to touch my face or my shoulder, I didn't know – but I recoiled, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Please don't," I whispered. "If you touch me, I'll break."

The look in his eyes was wretched, like I had just punched him in the heart, which I suppose I had.

"I have to go," I said.

I couldn't look at him anymore. This hurt too much, but in a way it was a relieved sort of pain. This was the right decision, for both of us.

Kell's hand dropped to his side. "I love you," he said.

My heart climbed into my throat and lodged there, a hard lump that I couldn't swallow down. There was nothing I could say to that, so I turned and walked away.

Kell didn't call after me, and as soon as I was out of sight, I started to run.





It wasn't until I turned onto the familiarity of my own street that the tears came, great gulping sobs that shook my whole body. I hunched over, trying to suck air into my lungs.

This was the right thing to do.

It was.

I couldn't keep hurting him like this, and if we stayed together, I was afraid I would. I was afraid I would slip, like he had, but that something even worse would happen to him as a result. He always seemed to pay the price for my bullshit.

But at the same time I couldn't forget that breaking up with him was hurting him too. Kell had told me that I was the only really good thing in his life, and now I was taking that away.

I hesitated, chewing my lip until it hurt.

Kell had been where I was now, and I was the thing that had pulled him out of the dark. What if, without me, he slipped back into it?

That was almost enough to make me run back to him, and tell him that I hadn't meant it.

But I couldn't.

This wasn't just about Kell paying for my mistakes.

We had both said that we would keep each other afloat when things got rough, but there was helping each other and then there was becoming co-dependent. We both needed to learn to swim on our own, and then we would be strong enough to swim back to each other.

Or so I hoped.

Straightening up, I swiped my sleeve across my face.

I could do this.

I took my key from my pocket, crossed the street, and let myself into the house that didn't feel like home anymore.

Then I went upstairs and cried myself to sleep.





When I woke up the next morning, I had no idea what time it was, and I didn't care. I felt exhausted and hollowed out, and my heart ached, but I hadn't changed my mind.

This was how things had to be.

I dragged myself out of bed and went downstairs. There was no sign of Dad, but Lori sat at the breakfast bar, her eyes watery and red-rimmed. A plate of untouched bacon and eggs sat in front of her.

I stopped in the doorway, and looked at her, my sister. My sister who was drowning too, and no one was reaching out to help her.

I had realised this weeks ago, and I had done nothing about it since. I'd been too busy focusing on myself.

I ran to her and hugged her.

"What's wrong?" she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been here for you, and I'm sorry you haven't been able to talk to me, and I'm sorry I've been such an awful sister."

Lori held me at arm's length, studying my face. "What's brought this on?"

I sniffled and wiped my eyes again. "I've just realised a few things lately. When Mum was diagnosed, I started to resent my friends because they weren't supporting me the way I needed them to, but I've done the same to you for years. You're my sister and I haven't been there for you. I've just pushed you away and shut you out."

Lori slowly nodded, her face thoughtful. "Are you ready to tell me why?"

Yes, I was.

I leaned against the breakfast bar. "I was trying to be strong for you. You've been through so much already, and I thought that I should somehow shield you from all this by keeping you at arm's length. I didn't want to unload all my problems on you. I was trying to protect you, but I messed it all up."

"Oh, Laini." Lori's face crumpled and she hugged me, more tightly this time. "You don't need to be strong for me. We're supposed to be strong for each other."

"You've been crying. Was it about Mum or Sophie?" It was the first time I'd ever called the baby that, and Lori stiffened slightly.

"I don't know. Both, I suppose." She gave a sad little laugh.

"Is it harder because . . . because of Mum?" I said, remembering Kell's theory.

"Yeah. It's really dug up a lot of feelings," Lori admitted, pushing her plate away.

"I wish I had talked to you about this years ago. I wish I had never listened to Mum and Dad about pretending it had never happened."

"They thought they were doing the right thing," Lori said.

"For you, or for them? Did they make you give her up because they honestly thought it would be better for you, or because they didn't want the scandal?"

Lori sighed. "I don't know. I doubt they even know."

"So they did make you."

Lori spread her hands, palms-up. "It's not that simple. Of course they wanted me to give her up, because they didn't think I was capable of taking care of her. Considering my track record over the previous couple of years, I can understand why they thought that. A baby is a huge responsibility."

"Maybe you would have been ready if they'd helped you," I pointed out.

"Maybe." Lori nodded. "But we'll never know for sure. I do think they did what they thought was right."

"But it's not right, is it? You're miserable."

Lori blanched a little. "Sometimes, yes," she said carefully. "But they didn't know that."

"They didn't ask!"

"No, they didn't. But I suppose I could have told them. Dad probably wouldn't have listened, but I think that Mum would have, eventually." Her eyes filled with tears, and I knew what she was thinking.

She couldn't talk to Mum about it now.

She couldn't talk to Mum about anything.

Lori took both my hands. "Are you ready to tell me what's been going on with you lately?"

If it had been anyone else, I would have caustically reminded them that my mum had recently died, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that I wasn't exactly myself. But Lori knew that. She also knew that my behaviour had changed too drastically, too fast. She knew I was carrying around too much baggage.

I took a deep breath and told her.

I told her about the drinking and the drugs. I told her about the way I veered between numb and boiling rage. I told her about the festering black thing inside me, and how I sometimes didn't feel like I was in control of my own body. I told her about the cruel things I had said to Kell and Ella, and the fights – both the one I had inadvertently caused and the one I had deliberately picked. I told her about Damian. I told her how I had walked away from Kell, and how much it fucking hurt.

Lori was crying by the end, tears silently trickling down her face. I realised I was too, but this time I didn't wipe them away.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me any of this," Lori said.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," I said.

And that felt like another lightning bolt. I was mad at Mum and Dad for the choices they had made, but Lori genuinely believed they'd made them because they thought they were doing the right thing. They had shut us out of so much in the name of the 'right thing', but I had done the same to Lori.

I swallowed hard.

And Dad had done the same to both of us.

I was still so angry with him that it hurt, but for the first time in a long time, I wanted to discuss it with him, rather than us just yelling at each other.

"Are you mad at Dad?" I asked.

"Yes," said Lori, without hesitation. "I am so, so pissed at him, but I don't want to lose him. He's been selfish and cruel these past few months, but . . ." She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her jumper. "He never gave up on me. I put him and Mum – and you – through hell for years, and some parents might have cut their losses and left me to drown. But they didn't. They would not give up on me, and let's not pretend that I wasn't really horrible back then. So however horrible Dad has been lately, I can't give up on him."

"Are you ever mad at Mum?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Lori thought about that a little more. "Yes," she said. "I do believe that she and Dad thought they were doing the right thing where Sophie was concerned, but that doesn't mean I'm not sometimes angry with them about it. I really wanted to meet my baby one day, and now that Mum's gone I never will. Dad will never tell me, I know that. So even though I know it's not fair, I'm mad at her for dying without ever telling me what I needed to know."

"I'm mad at her too, but how can I be when she's dead?" I said, my voice wobbling.

Lori squeezed my hand. "Grief is complicated," she said, and I almost laughed, because Kell had said the same thing. "It churns up a lot of emotions, and it doesn't always make sense, but it's okay to be mad at Mum. It doesn't mean you loved her any less. It doesn't mean you don't still love her."

"But what will you do?"

Lori gave a sad little shrug. "What can I do? I'll just . . . have to get over it. It'll be incredibly hard, and I know that I will think of Sophie on every birthday, but I also know that I will survive it. Same as I'll survive losing Mum."

And for the first time, in a long time, I realised that I would too.

Time had started to move again.

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