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they ask you what you want to be when you grow up and your answer is always the same.
‘ A STAR, ’ you say. ‘ i want to be A STAR. ’
but you don’t mean the kind who appears pirouetting across a stage on her toes, the kind whose face covers the magazines that flood the grocery store checkout aisles. that’s your sister, not you. you don’t want to be immortalized on the silver screen.
you want to be immortalized in the maps of the night sky on atlas pages. you want to be a STAR, bright and untouchable and magical. you want to guide wanderers back home, you want to grant the wishes of every child who turns to you for solace, you want to be CELESTIAL.
and a star you become, but not in the way you had always dreamed. you do not emulate the beauty that lights up the night sky, you emulate their destruction. the way that they burn. the millions of miles between you and anyone who devotes a fleeting moment of their time to look upon you. the way that anyone who gets too close to you will be burnt alive. they look at you and they think you are shining, but nobody remembers that the time when a star shines the brightest is when it’s COLLAPSING.
and you’ve been collapsing for so long, perched precariously on the edge of contracting with the weight of the gravity upon you as the fire inside of you dies out and your heart cools.
it begins like this:
you’re only FIVE years old. your only concerns should be fleeting, few, and far-between. you should be worried about if your mom packed carrots or celery in your lunch box, if you’ll get a turn with the play-dough at centers or if you’ll get stuck playing with the plastic bugs again, if you’ll be able to sneak onto the bus in your favorite polka-spot rainboots despite the fact that it's been dry for weeks.
but life isn’t always fair, you learned that so very early on. back when chubby, sticky fingers still tried to grab stars out of the twinkling night sky — or tried to grab onto your father’s hand as you begged him to ‘ please, don’t make grandma go away. she’s LONELY there. i’ll take my bath, no whining, and go to bed early. i PROMISE. ’
instead, you spend your earliest years worrying about how many times your teacher will try to ask you a question today and how long it will take her to exchange her words for a sad smile of giving up, about the way your sister must feel when boys and girls on the playground ask her why her sister doesn’t talk, about the way you can hear your parents talking about you late at night if you poke your head out of your bedroom door when you can’t sleep, about the way they look so tired when they park the car in front of a new therapist’s office — your third one this month — and ask you to ‘ give this one a chance, kiera. please. ’
instead of receiving stickers for remembering your alphabet perfectly or knowing that one plus one equals two, you receive your first diagnosis, branded into your skin with a burning iron.
𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐑, 𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀. 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄. 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌.
you’re six years old when you first realize that they think you’re STUPID.
it’s first grade when your new teacher tells you that, from now on, you’ll go spend part of the afternoon with a different teacher, in a different room. she says it’s only until you learn how to talk, and that’s when you realize that they don’t think you’re smart enough to stay in class with the rest of the kids. you don’t think it’s FAIR, because you are smart enough, YOU ARE, and you have to miss social studies, which is your FAVORITE.
but your new teacher isn’t as nice as your kindergarten teacher was. she gives up on trying to ask you how your day is going a couple weeks into the school year. she doesn’t let you sit near her desk during work time in case there was something you want to show her. and she thinks that the reason you don’t talk is because you don’t know how. so, instead of telling her that you don’t think it’s fair, you just nod and look down at the ground.
you tell your parents that you don’t like your new classroom. it’s too small, too stuffy. and it’s just YOU in there with your new teacher, all alone, with nothing to hide behind.
your parents don’t tell you that you can go back to your regular classroom, like you want them to. instead, they tell your therapist, in pretty, sugar-coated words that they aren’t so sure this new treatment plan is working.
your therapist promises you that you’re not any less intelligent than the rest of your classmates — ‘ you’re just DIFFERENT, that’s all, ’ she says, her hand on your shoulder in a way that you know is supposed to be nice, but just makes you feel ITCHY.
and that’s when you realize that SHE thinks you’re stupid, too.
when you get home, you tell your parents that you don’t want to go see her anymore with hot, pin-prick tears stuck in your eyelashes. they look at each other, again, in the way that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes burn, but the next week they park the car in front of a new office building. and so, the cycle begins again.
this time, it brings with it your first ever prescription.
your new doctor is different than the others. she doesn’t talk to you as much. she spends most of her time scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, nodding along as your parents speak for you. she says that she doesn’t like to give medications to children, but she does anyway, for you.
‘ two years of therapy without progress is CONCERNING, ’ she says, peering at you over the rim of her glasses in a way that makes you feel just as nervous as the idea of opening your mouth and talking does. ‘ i think it’s in your best interest to consider alternative treatment. ’
that’s how you end up with a brand new addition to your breakfast plate. a tiny, yellow pill.
two weeks later, you make your first friend. but, still, you DON’T SPEAK. the progress isn’t enough.
then the world starts moving TOO fast, and everything hits you all at once.
you wake up every morning with your head pounding. when you try to tell your parents, they think you’re just trying to get out of going to school. you can’t blame them, you usually DO try and get out of school. everything makes you more nervous than it did before — the sound of your gym teacher’s whistle, the rush of children racing out past you to get to the playground, the way everyone’s voices overlap in the cafeteria. you’re never hungry anymore. once, you leave class to go to the bathroom and end up stuck outside for eight minutes because you SWEAR your class was out at recess and not in the classroom.
how did you forget that ?
most days, you come home crying, but that isn’t anything new. it isn’t until you come home SCREAMING — sobbing, shaking, scratching at the skin of your arms as your mother holds you, tight, in the kitchen while your father is on the phone — that you finally stop having to take the terrible, horrible medicine that makes you feel this way.
your parents take you to a new doctor a few weeks later, and there’s a new bottle of medicine with your name on it not long after.
for a while, things are better. they’re so much better.
you finally start to speak. first to your friends. then to the nurse, whose office you have to check-in at every day after lunch, to make sure you’re feeling okay. then to your second grade teacher, who is much gentler than your teacher from the year before and ALWAYS lets you sit by your friends.
your therapist asks you how you’d feel about writing notes to people that you’re not sure if you’re ready to talk to. you know exactly who you want to write them to, and on the way home from your appointment you ask your mom if you can get your own, special paper and pens. the smile on her face is so pretty, you feel like you’ve finally done something RIGHT.
it only took you eight years.
you pick out the bright colored stationery papers that have kittens on the borders — because you know that daisey rutherford already has the ones with dogs, and your ears burn at the idea of her thinking that you’re trying to copy her — and gel pens with little flecks of glitter swirled inside of the ink that make it look like shooting stars are frozen in time on your paper when you write with them.
that night, you write your first letter to daisey. three failed drafts end up, crumbled, in your waste bin before you’re finally satisfied with the result. you fold it twice, seal it with a puffy sticker in the shape of an ice cream cone adorned with a smiley face, and stick it in her cubby the next day when she isn’t looking.
to your surprise, the morning after, there’s a note waiting for you on your desk, written on daisey’s hot pink, puppy dog paper. she dots her i’s with hearts and calls you KIKI.
the nickname sticks.
you start to talk to her, too, but you still write notes back and forth. just because.
you’re riding high for a few, good years. and then every wall you worked so hard to build up, each stone you took painstaking hours to secure into place, comes crumbling down all around you the summer before high school starts.
when you finally manage to drag yourself out of the rubble and wipe the dust off your brow, the only company you have is another new diagnosis and a new orange bottle with your name stamped on it.
bipolar ii, you learn, is easily confused with major depressive order, which is treated with the kinds of medications you’ve been taking for years. the mania, they say, doesn’t ever swing quite as high as other bipolar disorders do. it’s a thinly veiled way of reminding you that you’re too SAD. it’s a harder disorder to catch.
‘ usually we look for medical history in immediate family members, ’ the doctors explain, polite smiles painted onto polite faces, ‘ but, given the conditions... ’
there’s no use in trying to skirt around the point with you when it comes to your family history. or, rather, your lack thereof. and, yet, something about doctors and their innate ability to always sound so professional means that they never say what they really mean.
that being, ‘ you were left at the FIRE STATION. safe haven law. your birth mother is nothing but a JANE DOE, we have no way of knowing what your medical history entails. ’
but, after seven long years spent in the company of various medical professionals, they don’t need to say it outright for you to know exactly what they mean.
finally, FINALLY, having the right diagnosis to explain the constant brewing chaos in your mind and the right medication to help create gentle waters out of your internal, stormy seas SHOULD mean that things are good again.
she knew it was coming — her official summoning to the ashmont police department. alice had already gone. zar had already gone. neveah had already gone. sam had already gone. honey had already gone. she had been watching, silent and stoic, as her friends were drawn in, one-by-one, like flies to a spider’s web.
she knew — or, at the very least, she SUSPECTED — that they were in no rush to call her in. her friendship that had long since turned to ASH with daisey was a far cry from the insight and the relationships they were looking for, the ones that might actually DO SOMETHING to advance the case.
and she knew that safety net was GONE the moment that a second case was officially declared OPEN. it was really a wonder it took this long to get here.
and now, here she is — still reeling, still grappling with hole that had been carved into her chest the night that nate was found, still off-kilter from the way that her life and everyone within it seem to be moving on such an unstable track — trying to remember how to BREATHE as the sound of a tape recorder clicks on.
“it is presently november 14, 2019. time reads exactly 11:32 am. my name is elaine grant, i’m the lead detective with the ashmont police department in the daisey rutherford case. also present in the room is reporting officer michael forrester of the ashmont police department. to clarify, miss kibler, you are not under arrest and you are free to leave at any time. by law, you still reserve your right to remain silent. anything you say may be used as evidence in the court of law and everything you say today will be recorded in our official transcript. are you ready to begin?”
kiki inhales. exhales. then nods, slowly.
“i’m ready.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 — 𝒀𝑶𝑼
DO YOU HAVE ANY CRIMINAL HISTORY ?
ANYTHING BIG OR SMALL THAT YOU WANT TO MAKE US AWARE OF ?
"no,” she answers, almost immediately. she can’t tell if the word came too fast, too abruptly, to be believable. she tries to focus in on grant’s gaze, tries to see if there’s anything there, but there’s NOTHING to go off of. there’s no way to tell if grant believes her claim — and, upon a brief, inward glance, she’s reminded of the fact that maybe, just maybe, grant is in the right for that. still, it doesn’t change the fact that grant’s expression is unnervingly calculated and emotionless. kiki isn’t sure if that’s because the officer is just THAT good, or if the narcotics — which... in her defense, she hadn’t KNOWN that she’d be summoned to the police station when she’d taken them, so — in her system have dulled her own abilities to be perceptive. “nothing, officer.”
HOW HAVE YOU SPENT THE FEW WEEKS BACK AT COLLEGE ?
WHAT HAVE THEY BEEN LIKE ?
she can’t stop the way an incredulous scoff leaves her lips the moment that she hears the question — because, REALLY, what kind of question is it? “well, let’s see. it’s my senior year. i should be worried about graduating in the spring, but instead i’m just worried that i might not SURVIVE that long. two of my childhood friends have been killed, two other people i used to spend my childhood around got kidnapped, and even though you arrested someone, you still called me in for an interrogation —” she forces herself to breathe, in slowly and out even slower. “so, to answer your question, it’s been the worst two months of my fucking life.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 — 𝑫𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝒀
HOW DID YOU KNOW MISS. RUTHERFORD ?
WHAT WAS THE NATURE OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP ?
"we were friends when we were kids,” kiki begins, folding her hands in her lap. despite everything that had been happening, it had been a LONG time since she talked about daisey and the friendship that she, once, shared with her. it felt like it was... a LIFETIME ago. she’s never been eager to jump at the chance of sharing how close she and daisey once were. the past few years have made that much especially true. the last few months brought a sense of guilt along with it that she couldn’t explain — that, maybe, she could have changed the way that the universe and its events unfolded if she’d made a few different choices along the way, despite the sound of oz’s voice in the back of her mind telling her she COULDN’T BLAME HERSELF. “i wrote letters to her. it was, uh... a therapy assignment. i was friends with nate, so was she. but we... grew apart as we got older. around high school. so i hadn’t really... talked to her in a time.”
DO YOU REMEMBER WHERE YOU WERE THE NIGHT DAISEY WENT MISSING ?
IF SO, WHERE WERE YOU ?
WHAT WERE YOU DOING ?
WHO WERE YOU WITH ?
kiki falters, her hands tighten their grasp. she wants to cross her arms over her chest, a defense mechanism, something to protect herself. but she KNOWS how the gesture would read to grant, what kind of implications it carried. so she DIDN’T. “i was at oz lamar’s party, like everyone else in the town. nothing exciting,” she attempts to say coolly but grant doesn’t seem amused. she has questions and she wants them all answered, apparently. “i... hung out with my sister, alice, for a little bit. and then i was with my boyfriend — julian bernard — for awhile, but he wasn’t my boyfriend yet, that came — ” she swallows her words, quickly realizing there’s no way to say that they didn’t get together until the day that daisey’s body was found — like, almost IMMEDIATELY after the news broke — without unfairly incriminating the both of them. “ — later. doesn’t matter. anyway, i went upstairs with my best friend, ulysses kennedy and we — ”
she hesitates, stares down at her fingers as memories flash through her mind, against her will. honey’s eyes blown-wide, the way her fingers trembled when she reached for him, the way they’d caught each other’s gaze as they were cleaning themselves up and agreed not to talk about it, the way she hadn’t even thought to let herself feel any way about it until she was crying on the floor of her shower the next morning. and, STILL, she can’t bring herself to regret it, no matter how awful of a person that made her. maybe she would have, if the circumstances had been even just a little bit different. but it was HONEY, and, somehow, that makes all the difference. “ — we hooked up. what? c’mon, what are friends for, am i right? and then i went home at... i don’t know, two-thirty?”
DID YOU NOTICE ANYTHING STRANGE ABOUT DAISEY’S BEHAVIOR THE NIGHT SHE WENT MISSING ?
DID YOU NOTICE ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS ABOUT ANYONE ELSE YOU RAN INTO THAT NIGHT ?
"i mean, like i said, i haven’t talked to her in a long time, so i’m not exactly the BEST person to pass a judgement call on her behavior,” she shrugs, forcing her shoulders to relax despite their innate instinct to coil with stress. “and we ran in pretty... starkly different social circles after our friendship ended. i saw her once at the party, around one in the morning, but i didn’t talk to her. she was a little busy going at it with otto balantyne, her fiance — and not in a good way. they were fighting over something, but i wouldn’t really call that strange. being at each other’s throats constantly was kind of their thing, but they never called off the engagement so i assume they always worked it out in the end.” grant’s gaze is still inquisitive, still peering into her soul, like she’s waiting for MORE. “i don’t know what the fight was about, if that’s what you want to know. i wasn’t hanging around in the shadows to try and eavesdrop, i was just... passing by. but, i will say that she seemed... i don’t know, nervous afterwards? just not herself. usually she always wanted to be the center of attention, but after that she seemed... paranoid is a strong word but... something wasn’t right.”
the more she speaks, the more the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach that’s been brewing since the moment she stepped foot into the police station feels like it’s boiling over. she’s treading dangerous waters and she knows she has to reign it back in, say SOMETHING to stop herself from blubbering like a complete mess, saying too much.
“and, WELL... it was friday the thirteenth and a full moon. have you considered the possibility of werewolves? maybe mothman?”
WHERE WERE YOU THE NIGHT DAISEY’S BODY WAS RECOVERED ?
"i was with julian,” she answers, almost immediately. “well. not the moment that her body was found, i was in my apartment then, but... i went over to his place really soon after.” truth be told, the day that daisey’s body was recovered had... very quickly turned into the day that she and jules finally got their shit together, and remained that way in her own mind. the fact that daisey rutherford had been killed had been a silently lurking truth since the day that they first received word of a post on daisey’s old blog — a day that she had ALSO spent standing in front of jules in his apartment. life is balanced like that, she thinks. daisey rutherford was taken out of the world and daisey jr was thrust into it. “i kind of had a come-to-jesus moment about... you know, how delicate life is. how easily it can all... fall apart. and he was the only person i wanted to be around.”
HOW FAMILIAR ARE YOU WITH THE ASHMONT WOODS ?
HAVE YOU BEEN THERE OFTEN ?
HAVE YOU RECENTLY VENTURED OUT HERE ?
IF SO, WHY ?
her stomach jolts, twisting in uncomfortable nausea, the moment that the first question leaves grant’s lips. she blanches, pales, she’s certain of it, but can’t find it in herself to even think twice about the way that it might make her look — not she’s concentrating all her effort into not breaking down on the spot. “the last time i went into the ashmont woods was when YOUR police force decided that they didn’t have the man-power to find missing college students on their own so they sent US out as bait.” she’s surprised with her own ability to keep her voice steady, though her hands are grabbing fistfuls of her sweatpants, knuckles white. “you remember that, ELAINE ? my best friend and my sister found the body of my oldest friend. do you have any fucking idea how bad that fucked her up?” she knows she’s getting away from herself, she can feel her control slipping. she isn’t sure what time it is, exactly, but the grating irritation she feels in her bones is one of the biggest, flashing indicators that whatever pill she’d popped that morning is starting to wear off. she forces herself to breathe again, to grasp a bit harder at the reins. she’s almost done. “so, no, i don’t go there OFTEN, officer.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 — 𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑲𝑳𝒀 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺
WERE YOU AT THE FOOTBALL GAME THIS FRIDAY ?
IF SO, DID YOU NOTICE ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS AROUND THE MEMORIAL TABLE ?
"i was. briefly,” she answers, her heartbeat quickening a fraction. and, again, there’s another question. how, exactly, does one tell a police officer that they made their exit moment they saw flashing lights, sirens, the sight of someone being taken away in handcuffs without sounding guilty? a hollow-sounding voice in the back of her mind reminds her that, maybe, there’s a reason why it doesn’t seem possible. “i didn’t notice anything suspicious, no. i wasn’t by the table for very long. i signed nate’s book and left.”
DO YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING THE ARREST OF HOLDEN WOODS, HIS CHARACTER, OR ANY EVIDENCE YOU MAY BE WITHHOLDING IN REGARDS TO HIS CASE ?
kiki shakes her head. this time there isn’t anything she’s trying to hide, anything that might cause her answer to hesitate. “no. i don’t know holden very well. i can’t remember the last time that i talked to him. certainly not since daisey died, i can tell you that. but i never really trusted him and i’m usually a pretty good judge of character.” it feels almost laughable to say that with the knowledge resting on her shoulders of just how many people in her life she’s recently learned have the capacity to kill. not that it’s affected her sense of their character in the long run, anyway. “but nothing i’m WITHHOLDING, no.”
DO YOU HAVE INFORMATION ON THE RELATIONSHIP DAISEY HAD WITH ROMANTIC PARTNERS IN THE PAST ?
ANYTHING NOTABLE ABOUT THEM ?
her lips purse, thinking on it for a moment. the only person she can think of with any romantic connection to daisey is... OZ. she’s certain that he had NOTHING to do with it, and for good reason. “no. i don’t know anything about that. like i said, daisey and i weren’t really friends anymore by the time that boys, or girls, or... WHOEVER became a notable part of our lives.”
DO YOU BELIEVE THAT SHE HAD ANY JEALOUS EXES ?
OR ANYONE ELSE THAT MAY HAVE BEEN ROMANTICALLY SCORNED BY HER OR PURSUING HER ?
"jealous exes? i mean, i don’t know about that. i can’t think of any she dated who had the capacity to KILL her... except holden, i guess. but, if you’re asking about it, that means you can’t be so sure.” she lifts one shoulder, slightly, and then drops it again. the idea of dragging someone under the bus isn’t one she’s particularly proud of, but... she’s starting to feel more and more like she’s doing whatever it takes to survive. she’d seen the report on holden’s arrest. she knows that he got booked partially on the count of an earring in his bedroom, a piece of evidence she has growing suspicions might have planted on him, the same way evidence had been planted on HER. the only difference was that her’s was signed with jules’s name and holden’s was probably signed with cassidy’s. “there’s always margo colby. people say she stalked daisey. i don’t know if it’s true or not, though. you know how people are... they talk.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐕 — 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵
DO YOU HAVE ANY PEOPLE YOU FEEL THE POLICE SHOULD LOOK INTO ?
PLEASE, LET US KNOW WHO AND WHY.
the taste of throwing margo’s name out is still sitting on her tongue, sharp and bitter, and she can’t wipe it away no matter how many times she tries to swallow it back. and, if it’s still there... well. “if you’re feeling CONFIDENT in holden, then i’d say ivy westbrook is someone to look into. she and holden spend a lot of time together and i heard they used to... well, i’ll just say if there’s someone who could be the bonnie to his clyde, then it’s her.”
DO YOU HAVE FEELINGS TOWARDS THE INVESTIGATION ?
ANY COMMENTS ?
she could end all of this here, if she wanted to. she could. she has the knowledge, the insight, the words, to help close this case for GOOD. for a moment, she debates it. she debates putting herself at risk for the sake of closing this stupid fucking book, but then... she falters. the last time she put herself at risk, daisey jr had made it clear what the repercussions of such an action were. sure, there was a chance that whoever it was wouldn’t be able to get to her in time if she spoke on it now, but that wasn’t a given... and she still had a lot of people who could be hurt at the risk of her saying something now. people who WOULD, without a doubt, go down right beside her.
so, instead of saying anything, she keeps her jaw wired shut and shakes her head, slowly.
it isn’t until they give her the all-clear to go and she’s walking out of the station that she feels something like regret pooling inside of her stomach. maybe it had been the wrong choice. maybe she should have said something.
' well, ’ she thinks to herself, pulling her coat tighter around herself as she steps into the cool, autumn air. ‘ there’s always next time. ’
jules could barely look at her. knowing what he had done, how he had just up and left without warning – she should have hated him. but the two of them, they could never do that. no matter how poorly one of them fucked up, no matter how overprotective the other was being–julian bernard and kiera kibler would always end up back in each other’s arms. it was a story that stood the test of time. as he stood there, trembling, his eyes burrowed in the crook of her neck, julian was reminded of all that they’d been through. instantly forging a bond over the x-files in their freshman english class. watching the brown in her eyes shimmer as she smiled. accidentally brushing his hand against hers as they marathoned the harry potter movies. lying restless at night, his heart torn in two as he built up the narrative that a person as beautiful and dynamic as her could never love someone like him. pulling away, ever so gently, and crashing into other relationships at the speed of light to take his mind off of the fact that he would never be good enough. falling in love with someone else, even though his heart would always be occupied. watching her fall in love with someone else–one of the worst feelings in the world. feeling like it was just the two of them against the world as they laid on their backs in a grassy field, haphazardly tracing the outlines of constellations until their minds wandered off, reminded of the fact that they would never really be together.
and then, the happiest day of his life. kiki showing up outside his door, shattered into a million pieces at the news of daisey’s death. sewing her back together with a kiss, weaving the two of them together like a perfect fit, something both of them had been awaiting for centuries. and now, he found himself on the other side of the door, in tears, just like kiki had been that first time. they would ebb and flow, have their ups and downs, but they would always be together. jules would never jeopardize that again.
“ i love you. i love you. ” he whispered, his voice shaky and small. this was it. everything. his world, right there, encapsulated in five feet and ten inches of dark curls and painted honey skin, holding him like her life depended upon it. how he’d ever resolved to give this up, he didn’t understand. “ i’m so sorry. i was stupid, and i didn’t know what i was doing. i could never leave you like that. ” he mumbled, a tear drifting down his cheek and on to her shoulder. “ the things i’ve done – i just – i don’t want you to feel the consequences of them. it’s not fair. i never want to put you through that. ”
he slowly pulled his face away from her neck, continuing to hold his arms around her shoulders so that they were still wound tightly together. jules pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, breathing a large sigh of relief to be in her arms again. he rested his forehead against hers, their eyelashes fluttering against each other’s in slow motion. “ i’m broken, kiera. i’m broken and lost and – and dumb. but i’m worse without you. ”
it felt as though weeks — or maybe months, or years — had managed to slip through her fingers since she last stood in the living with, oz and zar looking on as she wrapped her fists around the handle of a baseball bat the same way that her insecurities had wrapped themselves around her throat and allowed herself to let go of the things that had been trying to knock her off her feet. she had said she didn’t know how to be soft, or gentle, or say the right things. despite the fact that she had released those words from the confines of her mind, beat them into a pillow as hot, angry tears pooled in her eyes, she still felt the SAME way in that moment. she didn’t know how tight was too tight, whether or not her touch had been SUFFOCATING him this whole time. she didn’t know if she was holding tight enough, or if he’d crumble into dust and ash and nothing if she were to loosen up her grasp at all.
she had also, that same day, collapsed under the weight of being left behind, forgotten, ABANDONED all over again. it had felt like it then, abandonment, and a small voice in the back of her mind, now, whispered that it was. it still was. and, maybe later, when they were no longer intertwined, she would feel the exhaustion. maybe then she’d feel the dull burn of the jagged edges of her broken trust digging into her skin. maybe then she’d ache over it. but now? in that moment, every inch of her felt alive, and whole, and OKAY. like the pain of the last week without jules was being slowly eased out of her memory the longer that she stood there with the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips.
of course, it had never been the fact that he had left that hurt her. she couldn’t blame him for that, not when her first instinct to nearly EVERYTHING was to run. not when the thought of changing her name and starting a life somewhere new was a notion she’d entertained more than once in her life. no, what had HURT was the fact that she had been the one to push him away. that he was running from her. that it had been her fault in the first place, all of it. and she knew that would be a topic that they approached slowly, carefully, tentatively, making sense of it the same way that they made sense of everything else — with baby steps, TOGETHER.
none of it mattered, now, though. not in that moment, with jules wrapped around her, whispering apologies and promises against the skin of her neck. the only thing that mattered was him. THEM. her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, her hands shifting to allow her fingers to drag tenderly against his cheeks, ridding any stray tears that streaked across them. the warmth of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers felt like COMING HOME. “no, jules, i — i CHOSE you, okay? a long time ago, i chose you and i’m going to keep choosing you every day for... for as long as you’ll let me and probably even after then. and every time i choose you, i choose ALL of you — the broken parts, the imperfect parts, all of it.” she was only half-sure that her words were making any sense, her thoughts moving on a rapid-fire cycle, trying to get every thought out that she possibly could in case he was gone, again, the next time that she woke up. “you made a mistake, yeah, and... and i have, too. i’ve made SO MANY mistakes. but i know you. i know who you are. i know what kind of person you are. i know your heart. and i promise you... you are so much more than all this, you’re so much more than the worst mistake you ever made, okay?” slowly, she eased one of her hands from his cheek to brush his hair away from his forehead, out of his eyes, all gentle. “maybe you are all those things, but you’re also MINE. so let me... let me help put you back together. let me help you find your way back to where you want to be. you don’t — you don’t have to do ANYTHING alone.”
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Alice always felt a little off-kilter when she wasn’t wearing heels, and no one brought this out more than Kiki. They had both been so tiny once, and it never occurred to her that having different genetics would mean that they would grow differently. But they did, and growing for Kiki had been mostly vertical. Alice was usually in heels, and when she looked straight ahead she could see directly into her sister’s eyes. But now, wearing sneakers that were usually reserved for cheer practice, she had to tilt her neck to see Kiki properly, and it made her feel small in more ways than one. “No, no, nothing happened.” Nothing new. Nothing that Kiki didn’t already know about.
The way Kiki was looking at her made Alice uncomfortable, like she could see inside her and was now privy to the madness in her mind. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe it wasn’t healthy for Kiki to hear this. Her sister looked more tired than usual, like some of the fire in her eyes had been stamped out. Alice didn’t want to think about the last time that fire had wavered, but the idea was unescapable. “Kiki I… Should I be worried about you?” It was a stupid question. The answer would never be ‘yes’. But maybe if Alice focused hard enough on her eyes than she would be able to tell if ‘no’ was a lie. She’d told that lie so many times she ought to be able to recognize it coming from someone else.
Shaking her head vigorously, Alice tried in vain to form a sentence that wouldn’t make her sounds like a horrible person. “No, I had to pick someone. You have to know that.” Kiki was right, though. She did owe Inseong an apology. But ‘I’m sorries’ were one of her biggest weaknesses. “And they said they didn’t know why I didn’t pick to save you, and I don’t want you to think-” Alice paused. She couldn’t say that she was too nervous to name Kiki, that she had feared it would come back to bite her. That meant admitting that a part of her knew that trying to save Vi could put her in danger. It meant she was a terrible friend. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t want to.”
She looked at Kiki desperately. Maybe if they made eye contact for long enough than Kiki really would see inside of her, and she wouldn’t have to say it out loud. “Haunted,” she repeated back to her in a whisper. “I know you miss him,” she said, swallowing hard. “And I’m-I’m sorry to bring it up. But he’s all I see when I close my eyes and-” Alice inhaled sharply, unsure which piece of her mental puzzle would best clue Kiki in. “I mean, last night, I got kicked out of the library. Me. Kicked out. Because I was yelling in the middle of the study section. I didn’t even know I was doing it until a librarian and a security guard were standing over me. I thought… I thought I was still in the woods. I could feel the wind and hear the leaves and, and… my legs. My legs were cold like I had been kneeling in mud.” Sometimes it happened when she was sitting in class, or in the middle of rehearsal, or laying in what was supposed to be the safety of her own bed. She was there one minute, and the next all she could see was trees, and all Alice could hear was a ferocious wind and her own screams. And then she would look down and see Nate, and unable to look away from the emptiness in his eyes, she would shake uncontrollably and wait for it to pass as she cried out for Honey.
“I think he’s mad,” Alice admitted. “Or maybe Daisey is. That I’m still alive. And they’re making me pay for it.”
the question made her recoil slightly, alice suddenly looking and sounding so much like their mother — despite the fact that she shared as much dna with the woman as kiki, she always seemed to take after her more — that kiki had to blink once, twice, to steady herself and remember where she was. who she was talking to. “no,” she finally managed to get out, shaking her head, slowly at first and then more certain. only, she was certain that one, pathetic word would hardly be enough to convince her sister of ANYTHING, let alone her well-being, so she knew she had to try again to be more convincing. “no. i mean, it’s a lot. it’s all a lot, but i’m not — ” not what? not on the verge of a breakdown? that wasn’t true. not like i was back in high school? that wasn’t true either. “ — i’m fine. as fine as i can be, you know?”
she wasn’t sure if it was the guilt of her lie or the way that alice was staring all the way into her fucking soul, but kiki felt like her skin was BURNING. her skin felt itchy. her chest felt too tight. like a fear of speaking had returned to take over her, despite the fact that alice was one of the few people who she had ALWAYS been able to speak to. she felt desperate to cast the spotlight away from herself, allow her body to cool without the heat of the bright light on her.
“no, i know,” she finally spoke up, hesitantly reaching forward to rest a hand on her sister’s forearm. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t — i shouldn’t have lashed out. i mean, there’s no fucking winning, right? who gets it better than me? i just... i just tried to get around it and ended up hurting someone, too. there’s nothing we CAN do.” and that was the truth. inwardly, she was GLAD that her sister had at least been lucky enough to choose someone who she didn’t really end up hurting, someone whose life wouldn’t be torn to too many pieces because of what they all knew. “no, i didn’t — i didn’t think that about you,” she shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. she KNEW that alice cared about her, would do whatever she could to protect her. she always had, there was no reason for her to believe otherwise now. “don’t worry about that, al. it’s fine.”
kiki’s expression curled into something almost UNREADABLE as her sister continued on, talking about all the reasons why she thought that she was being haunted, nodding slowly. every word felt like it was shooting her years back in her own timeline, like she was in senior year, collapsing and sobbing and screaming on the kitchen floor without realizing she was doing it, haunted by a memory that was still weighing down on her chest — one she couldn’t speak of, not to anyone. “alice...” kiki began, her hand shifting to take hold of her sister’s hand. “alice, do you remember when we were seventeen and... and i had that episode, right after we got accepted to college? it was — that’s what it felt like. a lot. and i think... i don’t think you’re being HAUNTED, but i think... i think, maybe, you should think about going to therapy.”
noah shook his head slightly and nosed against her curls, giving her slim shoulders a soft squeeze. “it’s not fair,” he agreed softly, and he could barely hear his voice over the sound of the hockey game he left playing in his bedroom. it wasn’t fair. he knew exactly why he got away with so much shit, why he was able to skate by on petty theft when other kids in his neighborhood were given hard time in a detention center. he was a pretty, little white boy who cleaned up nice for court. kiki wanted to change the world––it was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place––and noah was still convinced that she was going to do it one day. “i’m sorry. none of this is fair.” he tilted her chin up gently and brushed a curl behind her ear so that he could see her big, brown eyes, “but once this is all over, and you finally get out of this shit town, you’re gonna make a real difference––and jules is going to be okay. i mean, he has you.”
he wasn’t sure exactly if she had planned to ask him…that when she came over, but he tried not to let it sting. now wasn’t really the time to let his ego get in the way of his main priority––making sure that kiki kibler was happy. she deserved that after everything she’d been through. she deserved that more than anyone he knew––and that’s why he froze, head jerking in her direction for a moment before he turned away with his jaw clenched. he flinched, pulling away from her so that he could breathe. “no,” noah said, voice sharp and quiet. “don’t ask me to do that, kibler. i’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”
kiki’s breath caught in her throat — shallow and sudden — when noah tore away from her so abruptly, a refusal to indulge her quick to fall from his lips. for a split-second, it caused anger to rise up in her chest, because how was noah fucking bailey going to hold HER to some stupid, ethereal expectation of how she was going to change the world and how everything in her life would just work out fine and still refuse to give her one little name. her common sense quickly batted that feeling down, repressing it until it was diminished, knowing that she COULDN’T lash out at him for that. not when he was one of the only people left in this whole goddamn town who still cared about her — and that’s all he was doing with his words. they were well-intentioned, however LATE he was to trying to stop from hurting herself didn’t really matter. “you’re right, i’m sorry,” her voice was small when she finally found it again, hand reaching to rest on his shoulder. “it’s not fair of me to involve you in that. i won’t ask you to, okay?” it was a sneaky apology, at best. well-worded to dance around the fact that she WOULD find a way, with or without his help, but it was all she could do for now.
“i wouldn’t mind a distraction. like — i mean, i kind of don’t want to talk about it anymore right now, if that’s okay?” she requested, drawing her legs impossibly closer to her chest and resting her chin on top of her knees. “what have you been up to since halloween? any notable trysts? or any good stories? i wouldn’t mind a good laugh.” maybe it was a long-shot, but if she knew noah as well as she thought — which, apparently she didn’t know ANYONE as well as she thought, anymore, so it wasn’t really off the table — he wouldn’t press or care to linger on anything that really breached the territory of being too serious. at least, she was counting on it.
he remembered how it’d gone. he’d been with zar when it happened, events unfolding so quickly before him that he felt like he’d hardly blinked before it was over. the look of horror on zar’s face, mirrored by the pure shock on his own; the way zar had sprinted from the art gallery before anyone could even realize he was gone. he and jules had that in common, honey supposed. their first instinct was to run. honey, unlike kiki, had been given the option of going after him. it hadn’t occurred to him until just then how important that had been to him, in the moment.
the swirling storm of emotions had been something he’d had to sort through in only a few moments. he knew any kind of uncertainty on his face would devastate zar, and honey hadn’t thought he could bear it if zar ran from him forever. he was surprised, most of all, to discover how little he cared about what zar had done. at most, there was the tiniest sting of betrayal, immediately smothered by a tsunami of understanding.
kiki had not been afforded the same luxuries as him. he knew she’d been dealing with jules’s absence in her own way, and though he wanted to be there for her, he knew that being on her own was just as important to allow her to process. even so, he was relieved to see her walk into his apartment, wordless and wrecked. honey reached for the remote, muting the show he’d been watching, and focused his attention on kiki instead.
without thinking, he laid a gentle hand atop her head, brushing some stray strands of hair away from her face. he could recall his mom doing the same for him, gentle hands combing through his hair after a hard day, making him feel like everything could be okay again. “ like what ? ” he murmured, but he spoke again before she could even have a moment to reply. “ like he’s lied to you far more than you ever thought he’d be capable of ? yeah, ” he said. “ like you still love him the same anyway, despite anything he might have done, because you’re in far too deep not to ? also yeah. ”
kiki didn’t flinch away from his touch the way she might have if it were someone else on the other side. physical affection was never exactly kiki’s love language, to say the very least, and the list of people who she allowed close enough into her orbit to reach out and touch her was SHORT. honey’s place near the top, however, had remained unwavering, despite the fear that she would BURN anyone who moved in too close to her. honey was, perhaps, one of the only people she had left that she could still keep safe, still protect the wrath of someone who had it out for ALL OF THEM. she had known for quite some time, now, that she would do anything for honey kennedy.
she nodded, though the movement was so minuscule she wasn’t sure he could even see it. she almost felt guilty for coming to him, now, when she had been so unsure of how to be there for him or for zar when it was their lives on the front-burner of everyone’s minds. maybe it was just a little bit selfish of her, but she knew — they BOTH knew — that honey had a far stronger grasp and a far deeper understanding of what she was enduring than anyone else. it had always been that way between the two of them, really, but where they had once been wading in a shallow stream, they were now both being held underwater, with their only hope of trying to surface again being each other. with every day that passed, their lives seemed to mirror one another in a way that was almost scary. but at least they weren’t ALONE.
“i do still love him, i do. and... and i don’t even feel BAD for it like maybe i should. lik.e you’re... you’re not supposed to love someone who’s done something like that. you aren’t supposed to still look at them and see a GOOD PERSON, but... but i think we BOTH know that it’s always circumstantial. it’s never that black and white. never that easy.” that was perhaps a sickest twist of it all, the most nauseating parallel between their planes of existence. of all people in the world, it was THEM who found themselves in love with a KILLER. “how could i judge him? when i...” she swallowed back the words that begged to be released from the confines of her throat, closing her eyes. “do you think he’ll forgive me? for... you know, being the reason that this even happened in the first place?”
🌺one of the happiest days of kiki's life was when she discovered buzzfeed unsolved
10/10 incredibly accurate. probably THE happiest day of her life, not just one of the happiest, especially when she found out there were true crime episodes AND supernatural episodes
🌺 Kiki names everything, she also assigns pronouns to inanimate objects sometimes when she's referring to them
you know what???? this is so FUCKING VALID. she absolutely names EVERYTHING and also gives inanimate objects pronouns bc she’s a very strong believer in needing to talk to everything. like if the tv isn’t working??? she’ll talk to it. because, first of all, when technology becomes sentient and takes over the world they’ll remember who was nice to it. and, also, sometimes even the printer needs a little bit of reassurance to be confident in its own abilities.
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“i don’t — i DIDN’T. i haven’t given up, not on anything. well, okay, that’s not true. if we’re being honest i DID give up on trying to teach myself how to play piano because i’m just not as musically inclined as i thought that i was. but even THEN, i still know how to play twinkle, twinkle little star, and, like… thirty seconds of clair de lune. and i think life is a lot like that, sometimes, for me. i want to give up, i want to give up all the time. i’m sitting on the bench and no matter how many times i try to start over, i always end up pressing the wrong key and it makes the whole song sound AWFUL and… and i just want to give up on it for good, because who needs to play the stupid piano anyway? and so i’ll walk away. but every time i see a piano, i end up sitting down and playing the first thirty seconds that i do know, til i mess it all up again. but if i still play those thirty seconds, i haven’t really given up, right? maybe it feels like i have sometimes, or like i want to, but… but i DON’T, i promise i don’t.”
“be honest, is this you just trying to remind me that you go on more dates than i do? we both know i don’t have much to choose from here. okay. um. well, i mean, JULES and i had our first date at the art museum during the gallery show, he set up this whole little picnic away from all the craziness. but, uh, you know. my roommate-slash-best-friend AND my former best friend got their lives ruined and then someone painted a daisy mural on the sidewalk with blood. so that was a little awkward. oh — there was ALSO this time i was on a date with a guy and he told me he wanted to sneak off to the bathroom and climb out the window. but it was NOAH and it was only because he found out i’m a cancer, so it’s not as tragic as it sounds.”
🌺 I don’t know why but IN MY HEAD Kiki was a bIG furby fan as a kid
omg STOPPPP you’re 10000000% correct any toy that the general public thought had the capabilities of launching a space shuttle or that the nsa treated as a national security threat...... is the only kind of toy kiki would have wanted to play with LMAO i cannot stop laughing at the thought of kiki and alice going to have a play-date with the girls who lived next door and when they all pulled out their dolls kiki pulled out a fucking FURBY i-
your muse is drinking with mine and has been given the chance to question my muse anything they want to know. some may be triggering, others won’t. send me a 🍻+ the question you want to ask my muse for a tipsy, drunken ( honest ) answer.
“ what’s holding you back in life ?”
“ is everything alright? ”
“ when did you choose to give up ?”
“ what’s the kinkiest thing you have ever done ?”
“ how many have you slept with ?”
“ what’s your biggest secret ?”
“ do you believe in love ?”
“ what’s the meanest thing you have done ?”
“ what scares you more than anything ?”
“ have you ever considered running away ?”
“ do you love me ?”
“ what’s your dirtiest fantasy ?”
“ who hurt you ?”
“ what made you this way ?”
“ is there anyone special in your life ?”
“ why are you always smiling ?”
“ what lie have you told that hurt someone ?”
“ if you could do anything in world, what would it be ?”
“ who are you, really ?”
“ is there anything you regret ?”
“ what’s your biggest regret ?”
“ tell me about your first kiss ?”
“ what is your deepest, darkest fear ?”
“ is there anyone you regret kissing ?”
“ have you ever cheated, or been cheated on ?”
“ what is the most embarrassing thing in your room ?”
“ who have you loved, but they didn’t love you back ?”
“ is there something you have never told anyone ?”
“ when was the last time you cried ?”
“ how come you keep running away ?”
“ have you ever made someone cry ?”
“ if anything, what makes you hate a person ?”
“ what takes for you to fall in love, trust someone ?”
“ do you believe in true love ?”
“ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“ do you regret letting me close ?”
“ is there someone you have a crush on ?”
“ what is the strangest place you have ever had sex ?”
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it was what he told himself as the bottoms of his worn converse worked their way across the sidewalk. it was also the only thing running through his head, over and over, until the words seem less like words and more like law. law – jules found himself standing across the street from the ashmont police department, hands shoved in his pockets like they were visibly red, a permanent frown crossing his face. he had to confess to it. it was the only way the police department could officially arrest him, charge him with the crime that had haunted him for well over a year now. he couldn’t go on like this; not being able to go a moment without thinking about the fact that he deserved none of this. his life, family, friends. kiki.
jules crossed the street slowly, a deep breath caught in the back of his throat, like he no longer knew how to exhale. everything started to blur together as he got closer and closer to the station, the impending doom applying pressure to his chest. suddenly, he froze – it was like he had stepped into a time machine or something. there was kiera kibler, six years old, sporting a flower chain around her neck, waiting outside of a minivan. his mind drifted toward the hazy memory of them being pronounced husband and wife in the sandbox – jules had sprinted away, too embarrassed to let kiki plant one on him. his dreamy memory was interrupted as the little girl’s mother pulled her into the car, forcing him to realize that she was not, in fact, kiki.
but jules’ heart refused to let go of that moment. what the fuck was he doing? he could never survive like this – subjecting himself to additional painful years of not being able to be with the love of his life. julian bernard wanted to marry kiki kibler, for real this time. he couldn’t do that beyond bars. as his mind entered a terrible game of tug of war, jules bit down hard on his lip. he turned away from the police station, moving back toward the sidewalk. he didn’t know what to do. all he knew is that he wanted to be around kiki for the rest of his life.
by the time he reached her apartment, tears were rolling freely down his face. his eyes were puffy and red with regret, his cheeks wet with confusion. it took him a few minutes to actually knock on the door, but he was never going to be prepared for what happened after the door swung open. he just wanted to collapse in her arms, to say sorry a thousand times, to tell her he would never leave her again. but she had every right to refuse that, to push him out again like he had wished for in the first place. he didn’t know what was going to happen. all he managed to mumble after the door opened was, “ i’m sorry. ”
time had been passing slow and sticky, like molasses but not nearly as sweet, since jules left. she wasn’t sure exactly how many days it had been — anyone’s guess was as good as her own, at this point — her mind all kinds of foggy and distant and not quite there. though, she supposed, that was nobody’s fault but her own. her’s, and xanax’s, and oxycontin’s, and whatever else she’d managed to get her hands on to deafen the world around her.
the sun had set and risen at least a few times, she knew. she’d seen it through the cracks of her blinds during one of the many long stretches of time she spent hiding away from everyone beneath a mountain of blankets. that was where she spent most of her time — silent, eyes fixed on the spot on her bedroom wall where paint had been chipping off for months now. her phone had been dead for awhile now and her door locked. sometimes one of her roommates would knock and ask her if she needed anything but they never forced themselves in, not even when she didn’t answer.
it was kind of a miracle that she was out of bed at all — one of her rare trips to fill a glass with water because she had enough sense about her, at least, to know that winding up in the hospital from severe dehydration was just about the LAST thing that she needed — when she heard the knock on the door. she considered ignoring it, for a moment, and returning to the safety of her bed to let someone else deal with whoever wanted to come in. only, then she remembered what kind of nightmare world they were living in, and that a knock on the door could very well mean that someone she loved needed help — and, well, she couldn’t ignore THAT.
what she hadn’t expected was to see JULES. clearly. if she had been expecting him, she would have... well, she wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently. she wasn’t sure she had the energy to. even if she couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed her hair, or how long she’d been wearing the same sweatshirt. for a split-second, she entertained the notion that maybe she was imagining it. she heard that hallucinations were supposed to start after three or four nights without sleep. she wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake for, but three or four days sounded right. only, then he was speaking — sounding about as small as SHE felt — and the instinct that hearing him so BROKEN kick-started in her chest was enough to assure her that this was real, this was very real. she didn’t think twice about the way she all but crashed into him, arms winding tight around him like she was afraid he’d disappear again if she didn’t keep him close enough. and, in a way, maybe she was. she had about a million things she wanted to say as trembling hands fisted in the back of his shirt, but a quiet, half choked off, “JULIAN,” was the only thing she could force out of her throat for a few, agonizing moments. and, then, finally, “it’s — it’s okay, it’s OKAY. it’s all — i’ve got you, alright? you’re okay.”
“i know it may be hard for a cop-to-be to get, but the law ain’t always right, k. i think you know that.” noah wondered, briefly, how in hell he ended up defending julian bernard to kiki kibler. he almost laughed, considering all the times he thought about punching the guy in his stupidly chiseled jaw the first few months after kiki dumped him on his sorry ass. he used to blame it on him and kiki’s unresolved feelings––he knew now that there was only one person to blame for how things ended between them, and it certainly wasn’t jules. “how i swing it is self-defense by proxy. that’s a thing, right? look, some people deserve to die, and maybe that’s fucked up for me to say, all things considered, but it sounds like the world isn’t crying for that dickhead, so why should we?”
he blinked for a moment at her revelation and almost dropped her hands. so the golden boy skipped town, huh? noah didn’t think he had it in him. that was a textbook noah bailey move, after all, to leave when things got hard. he never pegged jules to be the kind of guy who was anything like him. “he…probably just needs some time, you know? it’s a lot to have your ass shown to the whole fuckin’ world.” carding his fingers through his hair, noah sighed softly and tapped his foot against the ground as he resisted his own urge to run. what was he even doing? he didn’t fuckin’ know anything about a healthy relationship, and here he was handing out advice like he could actually help. “he’ll be back, and until then, i’m here, okay? for whatever you need, kibler.” he slid a long arm over her shoulder and squeezed her against his side for a moment, lips forming a soft grin, “except laundry. i don’t do that shit, so you’ll have to outsource for that.”
she shook her head, slowly but certainly, at his words. no, the law WASN’T always right, and she did know that. that was her whole ambition in wanting to pursue criminal justice in the first place, wasn’t it? to try and correct all those wrongs? she WANTED it to be right, that was the thing, but she didn’t want anything to happen to jules, either. and, therein fell the problem. “doesn’t matter how anyone swings it, really. he’ll never spend a day in court in his life — except for, like, fucking jury duty because he’s the perfect, upper-class white man that every prosecutor wants on their side,” she exhaled slowly, trying to swallow back what almost felt like a bitter tasting reminder, silently paired with her words. no, jules would never wind up behind bars for what he did, and she NEVER would have wanted him to. didn’t change the fact that the same couldn’t be said, with certainty, for her should she ever find herself on daisey jr’s chopping block some day. she’d lucked out, once, with her parents taking her in and saving her from a life in the foster care system. but lightning never stuck in the same place, twice, and she was almost guaranteed to fall through the cracks, this time.
kiki couldn’t bring herself to respond, not at first, to noah’s assurances. so, instead of saying anything she just leaned further into his couch, drawing her knees towards her chest. he was RIGHT — jules probably did need space, and she couldn’t blame him for taking off, not when a voice in the back of her head was constantly reminding her that she’d probably do the SAME THING. it wasn’t the fact that he needed space that hurt, no, it was the silent implication that he needed space from HER. not that she blamed him for that, either. she allowed for noah to pull her into his side, letting her head rest heavy on his shoulder. she wondered how he could sound so certain, so confident, when he had no better idea of what would happen next than she did. “i don’t need you to do my laundry, bailey. i need — ” she flexed her fingers outwards, curled them back into fists. inhale. exhale. “who’s your dealer? is it sutton?”
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