“Jesus Kaira. Why the hell are you acting like this? I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”
I hated him for how calm he was about this, like he could take the world ending with ease. And I hated how much I couldn’t mirror him. Not again. Not again.
“I don’t know,” I said, my words growing more frantic by the second, because in the back of my mind I heard Brad whisper over and over that I’d brought this on myself. “I finished my thesis and walked to the studio and Helen was outside saying I shouldn’t go in, because someone committed suicide, and then she said it was Jane and why would she—?” Tears welled up and I choked, tried to find the rest of my words.
“Kaira,” he said softly.
He reached out and took my hand, his skin sending sparks through my veins. I jerked back and fell flat on my ass in the snow. He reached down to help me stand but I backed up.
“No, no, I’m fine.” I pushed myself to my feet and kept space between us. “Just . . . don’t touch me. Not right now.”
“I’m . . .” He paused and looked at me. Really looked at me, as if he was trying to see past the bullshit and fear. Whatever he found, he didn’t let it show. Or maybe, like me, what he saw was enough to make him stop trying to look deeper. “I’m sorry.”
He sounded hurt. He sounded like he truly meant it. And every time I blinked I saw Brad’s eyes, staring at me. I saw the blood covering the snow, and I knew I couldn’t let myself be his comfort. I couldn’t be anyone’s comfort. For their own safety.
I looked away. Everything twisted inside of me. Jane is dead. Jane is dead. Jane is dead.
And Brad’s voice, thick and bloody and ricocheting: It’s all your fault.
I trained my words to go flat, emotionless, wrapped my heart in snow to keep the fire from bursting through me.
“I need to be alone,” I said
“I don’t think you do. I think you need someone to help you.”
The fire broke free, the rage of everything I’d been trying to hold in. All the hatred I had for myself, all aimed at him.
“What the hell do you know about what I do and do not need?” I yelled. “Why the hell are you even talking to me, Chris? You haven’t said a goddamn word all year and now you’re trying to be my friend? Right when all this shit’s going down? I don’t have time for this. I don’t have room for this. So why don’t you just fuck off and go back to being a stranger?”
My words hit him. Hard. Probably harder than if I had thrown a fist. But he barely flinched, and he didn’t look away.
“I know you don’t mean that,” he said. “I know you’re hurt and you’re scared and I’m sorry for that. But I . . . I hope you don’t actually want me to leave.”
“And what if I do?” I asked. I made sure to look him right in the eyes when I said it. He was used to happy, art school Kaira. He had no clue what the other years of my life had created. “I told you I’m not interested in dating. So why are you even here?”
“Because I like you.”
I deflated.
It was so honest, and it sounded so pained. Like he, too, didn’t want this. Any of this. But especially not the affection.
“I’ll go,” he said. “I know you need to be alone. I just hope you’ll come around again.”
Then, without another word, he turned and left. The usual bounce was gone from his step; he walked with his head lowered and shoulders hunched.
Chris vanished into the undergrowth and I watched him leave. I wanted to chase after him, to apologize. Because I didn’t want to hurt him, not when he was trying to protect me. But that was the problem—I was trying to protect him. And that meant he couldn’t be anywhere close.
A shadow darted through the trees, and before I could act or scream it landed on my shoulder with a puff of cold air that smelled of static and the grave. I froze.
The raven perched on my shoulder, its talons gently digging into my coat. I didn’t dare to move or breathe, didn’t dare turn my head—I could feel its eye trained on me. And I could see that its iris wasn’t black. It was as milky white as the moon. It didn’t move and it didn’t speak. It just stared at me, reminding me that he was always watching.
“What the hell is going on?” I whispered.
But Munin didn’t answer. The raven ruffled its feathers and flew off, cawing as loud as the secrets I thought I’d buried deep and dead.
? ? ?
I was jumped the moment I stepped inside my dorm.
“Tell me it’s not true,” Elisa sobbed into my arms. “Tell me it’s not true.”
I held her close and rubbed her back and tried not to feel like an imposter. Munin had never appeared like that, not so brazenly. I’m not going back, I wanted to scream. Instead, I focused on her. On Jane. On the event I still vehemently swore to myself I had nothing to do with.
“What are they saying?” I asked.