I’M EXHAUSTED BY THE TIME I walk through the front door. Tossing my keys onto the bench, I kick off my shoes, and head straight to the bathroom for a shower.
When I told myself to keep busy, I didn’t realise how much I had actually crammed in my schedule. Classes from nine to three and then working a shift at the diner from four until ten.
I wanted to feel human again, and I am definitely feeling that right now.
Shedding my clothes, I turn my music on, step into the cubicle, and sigh as the hot water runs over my muscles, easing the tension out of the knots that had built through the day. It streaks through my hair and I tip my head back, running my fingers through it. Since I have trouble sleeping, the fatigue weighing me down makes me weaker than I should be. I’m also going too long without blood. Some sort of fucked up self-punishment, I guess.
The first few weeks after Raya left were hard. I felt so lost. Theo and I wandered around that big house aimlessly, both of us not quite sure what to do. So we drank, we fed, we blacked out together a few times. Bonding, some might say. But I decided I didn’t want that for myself anymore. So, I moved out to my own little house with a lawn, garden, and even a small backyard and patio. I like it. It’s plenty of space for me, and I like being on my own. It’s peaceful.
Wrapping my fluffy robe around me, I shuffle toward my bed and faceplant into it, not even bothering to turn my music off. It’s always playing. Probably too loudly, but I don’t care. It numbs my thoughts, and that’s what I need. I need the lyrics, and the beat to keep out the nightmares that plague me at night. Thinking of all those times Kian forced me to do cruel, awful things . . . I shudder at the thought, and push it deep into the back of my mind, into a box I don’t plan on opening any time soon. Or ever.
The sound of the garbage truck collecting the bins startles me awake, which means I’ve slept way later than normal, since they come unusually late in this town. I had been running on empty all week, and it has caught up with me. My wet hair clings to me, and my robe has come loose, meaning my breasts are on full display, and I didn’t even close my windows last night. Wincing, I roll off the mattress and pad towards the window, pulling the drapes shut. I yawn, rubbing my eyes.
Dressing into my workout clothes, I pull my hair into a ponytail, and step out onto the porch. It’s a dark, gloomy day as usual. It’s Friday, which means there should be something from Raya in the mail. It’s sweet how they send old fashioned letters and postcards. They send something to me and Theo every week. Sometimes it’s gifts and sometimes it’s souvenirs from wherever they have recently travelled to. It’s something I look forward to every week.
Eagerly, I open my letterbox, seeing something sticking out of it.
Grinning, I rip it open, and read over the postcard. This one is from Paris. Reading over my sister’s familiar, neat scrawl, I lean my hip on the letterbox as I read about their latest adventures. I bring it to my chest and hold it there for a moment, the ache of missing her burning deep inside me. I’m happy that she is happy, but I miss her terribly.
Frowning, I notice another letter sitting inside. Pulling it out, I flip over the envelope, but it doesn’t have anything written on it. I tear it open and inch the piece of paper out.
I haven’t forgotten about you.
You still owe me nine years.
I’ll be coming to collect.
See you soon, Cora.
The blood drains from my face as I read it over and over.
Swallowing thickly, I quietly close the lid of the letterbox and walk stiffly back into my house, my skin prickling uneasily. A shiver runs down my spine. My mind races as I slip inside, closing the door behind me, unable to shake the feeling that someone is watching me.
Kian.