“Don’t get worked up over it, Kristy. She’s getting help and that’s all that matters. Now please, let’s just change the subject,” he pleads, still holding my legs in place.
“She could still hurt someone,” I mutter under my breath.
“She won’t. I’ll be watching her every step.” His eyes bore into mine. I decide to let the subject drop. Fighting is the last thing I want to do with him.
“What are your plans for Christmas?” I ask, changing the subject. He smiles and I know he’s thinking of his niece and nephew.
“To spend it with the rugrats and my ever loving, pain in the ass sister, as well as a green-eyed beauty,” he says, leaning closer to me. I can’t contain my smile as he leans in and kisses me on the forehead again. I try to keep the sigh inside, but it comes out anyway.
“Soon, Nani, very soon,” he tells me, pulling me closer.
“Do you go and see your grandmother at Christmas?” he asks into my hair. I think about that and wonder if I should? I didn’t last year, but this year could be different. She was different last time I saw her. She cares for me, I know she does now. She just doesn’t know how to show it.
“Not usually, but things are different now,” I murmur on his chest.
“That’s good, she does care for you. She just has an odd way of showing it.” How does he understand me so easily? It’s like he picked those thoughts straight from my head.
Excessive stress has shown to alter brain cells, brain structure, and brain function.
I wake in a dark room. I look around, but I don’t know this place or where the hell I am. I sit up and look around more closely, but nothing seems familiar to me in the slightest. I see a bag of clothes at the end of the bed and recognize most of my clothes from my closet. Why are they here? I look to my wrist and see bandages covering them. I unwrap them and see that someone has cut me. My last thought is that I was with Kai. If that prick has done something to me, I will cut the cunt. I rip the remaining bandages off and stand, looking for the door to leave this room. As I walk out, I hear the television is on. I check to see if I have my weapons and I can’t find them anywhere. I huff in frustration and walk a little further, hoping to find who’s here and why I’m here.
The floorboard creaks as I step closer to the noise coming from what I presume is the living room. I watch as Kai turns around and looks at me. A devilish smirk creeps across his face and I give him my best, confused look. He notices and gets to his feet as he looks down at my wrist.
“Why are the bandages off?” he asks, his eyes not leaving my hands.
“What’s it to you?” I ask, and his eyes shoot up to mine as he stalks closer, so close his chest is in my face. “Kayla,” he asks, sounding very serious.
“You seem surprised,” I retort, looking up at him and smiling.
“Very,” he snaps.
“Were you expecting someone else? Maybe someone calmer and boring?” His eyes shoot to mine and it’s then I realize who the girl is… the girl that stole me from my happy ending.
“You know?” he asks, taking a step back from me. I laugh, so loud his hand shoots up and covers my mouth. I stop laughing and he removes it.
“Of course I know. It’s her that’s delusional,” I smirk at him. He looks like he wants to smack me. Maybe he will, he looks like I just kicked his pussy.
“Why are you here, Kayla?” he asks, not lifting his deadly expression.
“I came to play. Don’t you want to play with me?” I tease.
“Why do you come out? I don’t know much about her disability, but I know a little,” he says, turning serious. I want to laugh at him.
“It’s not a disability, you fool. I protect her from those evil monsters in her mind. I get them, you see. I can handle them! She can’t,” I say, looking up at him and seeing a lost expression on his face.
“She’s in therapy now, she will get fixed,” he tells me.
“You can’t fix it. I am her and she is me. We are two peas in a fucking pod, you fool. Actually, how about I tell you a little secret?” I say and start to walk around him, circling him. His eyes follow me, watching my every move.
“Next time she’s in this therapy, get them to sing her a song and don’t stop singing it.”
“Why?” he asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“It’s a trigger. Plus, I want to talk to the good doctor,” I say, walking to his sofa and taking a seat.
“What’s the song?” he asks, sitting opposite me.
“One, Two. Who to kill?