by K. Webster
“She wasn’t. Kush has been having therapy sessions with her. They’d been identifying her alters. Explaining to them that they were only a part of her and not separate entities. He’d been confident it would help some self-realization occur. For the most part, it had worked. The good ones felt guilty for taking over and the bad ones were confused. She was making such progress. In fact, her alters weren’t making many appearances. I’d never had so much Kady time in the entire time I’ve known her.” I scrub my face in frustration. “But I think it made them weak. Bones verbalized this but I don’t think I understood the magnitude of what he’d meant. Tonight, Norman reared his ugly head, but Bones wasn’t as strong as he’d thought. Kady completely checked out and Bones came to the rescue. I know he didn’t mean to stab her, Dad. Bones would never hurt her.”
He pats my knee and gives me a firm stare. “He was trying to help. If I had the opportunity to stab her piece of shit father, I would too.”
I almost laugh at my dad swearing. Almost. Nothing is laughable right now, though.
“She’s going to pull through this,” he assures me.
Swallowing, I nod. It’s all I’ve got right now. A huge bucket full of hope.
“When she does, I’d like to make a suggestion.” He slips into business mode. “I think you should move in together. I’m not talking about that big, horrible house with a thousand terrible memories. Someplace new. A house in the suburbs or maybe a loft near your practice. Starting fresh could eliminate some of the triggers for her.”
The idea isn’t a bad one at all. I’m praying to God she does pull through. I’ll put a ring on her pretty finger and we can keep trucking on.
Our love is difficult but it’s ours and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“I think you’re on to something,” I tell him with a half smile. “I’ll talk to Kady about it.”
I’m sipping on my coffee when a man in scrubs rounds the corner. His face is grim which sends terror rippling through me.
“Are you the family of Kadence Marshall?” he questions. “I’m her surgeon, Dr. Jameson.”
I hand Dad my coffee before standing and striding over to him. “I’m her boyfriend, yes. Dr. Anderson.”
He rubs the back of his neck before giving me a pointed stare. “From one doctor to another, I’ll be real honest with you. The girl did some damage to herself.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod for him to continue.
“She nicked her spleen and punctured her intestines in several places which were our primary concerns.” He frowns, and my heart skips several beats. “The bleeding was extensive enough that she required a blood transfusion.”
I swallow down my nerves. “Is she okay?”
“We have her stabilized but we’re going to keep her in the ICU until we know she’s out of the dark for sure.”
The hope that had been budding in my chest blooms into something much larger. “This is great news, Dr. Jameson.”
He lets out a weary sigh. “That’s not all. She also managed to puncture and tear her uterine wall. The hemorrhaging from that organ was the worst.” His eyes meet mine and he levels me with his gaze. “It had to be removed.”
She’ll never bear children.
My heart aches for a family we’ll never have.
But right now, none of that matters. Only her.
“Anything else?” My voice is gruff. I sense Dad hovering behind me, soaking up all of the doctor’s words.
“They’re going to want to run a full psych evaluation on her due to the nature of her self-inflicted injuries.”
Kush is suddenly beside me. “I’m her psychiatrist, Dr. Pawan. I’d like to assist in any way I can.”
Dr. Jameson looks between us and nods. “I’m grateful to know she has such support.”
I glance around at my entire family who have come to stand behind me. Each one wears a sad, worried look. They’re here because they love me and have found a place in their heart to care for Kady too.
Together, we’re going to get her through this.
* * *
Kady
Everything is so quiet.
I feel empty.
Lost inside some never ending dream…not quite a nightmare but nothing pleasant either.
“Kady.”
My name, spoken soft and sweet, pulls me from the nothingness. At first, I think it’s Bones and I willingly run for it. With my arms wide open and a broad smile on my face, I chase the sound.
But the closer I get, I recognize the voice.
Yeo.
Brilliant colors alight my dark world. A kaleidoscope of love. Red, like the color of Yeo’s tongue when he tastes me. Orange, like the color of Bones’s Cheetos residue smeared all over his smirking face. Yellow, like the color of Agatha’s sponge as she deep cleans the kitchen wearing a pleasant smile that reminds me of my grandma’s. Green, like Presley’s favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream all over her sticky fingers. Blue, like Officer Joe’s concerned eyes hiding behind his aviators. Indigo, like the color of Aunt Suzy’s newest obscene lipstick shade painted on her grinning lips. Violet, like the collar Whiskers wears around his furry neck.
A rainbow of love.
And I’m their dark raincloud.
“Kady…”
Kady. Kady. Kady.
Colors fade to black and then I’m blinded by white.
“There you are, beautiful. There you are.” His voice is like warm sunshine on my bare legs while sitting in the grass on a summer day. It soaks me through to the bone. Saturates my soul. Heats me to my core. Fills me up with happiness.
Yeo.
I say the word in my head but nothing comes out.
His strong hand envelops mine and he comes into view. My love, so perfect, yet so broken. His normally fierce expression is gone. Blood is smeared on his face. Normally calm, brown pools of chocolate in his eyes flicker with sadness and loss. Red rims the beautiful color as if he’s been crying. Black hair is messy and matted on one side with blood. His jaw clenches and unclenches over and over again as if he’s physically trying to hold his emotions in.
Free them, I implore him with my gaze.
A tear rolls out of his eye and slips down his cheek. I can’t help but smile because he’s so damn handsome.
“You made it, Kadydid,” he whispers.
God, how I love his whispers.
“Don’t try to talk,” he tells me. “You still have a tube in your throat.”
His thumb strokes the back of my hand. I can’t understand why he’s so sad. But I can feel it. It radiates from him like heat off a blazing bonfire. I don’t like how it burns me from the outside in.
Bones, why is Yeo so sad?
I wait for the familiar smartass remark.
Nothing.
My eyes narrow at Yeo and another tear streams down his cheek. I blink several times. A pounding in my heart begins thudding so loudly, I can hear it. It matches the thundering in my head.
Bones, you promised you wouldn’t hide…
I beg him in whispers to come back. And then I roar.
YOU PROMISED ME! YOU PROMISED ME! YOU PROMISED ME, BONES!
The stupid sound of my heart has morphed into a beeping that seems to echo all around me. Yeo rains kisses all over me but panic has set in. I knew it was too quiet. He swipes away my tears but they don’t stop. Just a stupid flood of despair pouring from me without an end in sight.
My best friend.
My savior.
The only person in the entire world who knew every dark, dirty detail of my past.
BONES!
A shadow of strength when I was too weak.
A force of hurricane fury when I needed protection.
A scapegoat. A body double. A fill in.
BONES!
The part of my soul that was strong and fearless is gone. With his disappearance, he stole from me. He took what was mine. He robbed me of the part of my heart that was him.
He left me empty.
A battered and torn shell of the real Kady.
Bones.
Yeo’s pained face mirrors my own. Somehow he knows. I can’t even tell him and he knows. Our friend. The one who put the “terrible” in The Terrible Three is gone. Vanished. Dust in the wind.
“I’m so sorry, Kadydid.”
I close my eyes and will this all to be some sort of nightmare. Bones isn’t hiding. He’s laid up on the couch in my mind, munching on Cheetos, and smoking a blunt. He’s bitching about Pascale and Kenneth. He’s taunting Presley with tickles, teasing Aunt Suzy with flirtatious grins, and terrorizing Agatha with a slew of curse words she’ll no doubt beat him for. He’s scheming with Officer Joe and he’s petting Whiskers.
And he’s loving Yeo.
He’s loving me.
Bones…
No whispers.
No roars.
Nothing.
Three months later…
“B, A, G, A, B, B, B.”
Chase’s chubby fingers slowly hit each key but he does it. I beam at him and then clap my hands together.
“Good job. Ready for the next part?” I ask him.
He nods with excitement. Chase suffers from severe social anxiety. I can relate, which is why he feels comfortable taking piano lessons from me. His mother says it’s the only time she sees him genuinely happy. And that makes me genuinely happy.
It took awhile to heal from my self-inflicted, if you will, injuries. Dr. Jameson allowed Kush to take the lead on my psychological health rather than dumping me off on some unknown doctor at the hospital. As much as I hate discussing the twisted parts of me, Kush somehow allows me to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt so bad.
Sure, the ache is ever present.
But he helps soothe the pain when we also talk about the good parts of me. The parts of my past that were happy, whether that be because of my grandma or mom or my alters.
Mostly, the happy parts are because of Yeo.
Kush and I discuss Yeo a lot. It’s what keeps me going each time. I don’t feel like I’m being ripped apart. Kush helps dissect me in a sterile, clinical way. He teaches me about each part of myself that is confusing or sad. Together, we talk through the memories I repressed. Memories that have done far more internal damage than they ever did externally. He exposes them. He peels back the layers. He points them out under the bright light. I’m forced to face each and every one of them. And I’m finally learning how to do it without shutting down on him.
Not that it matters much anymore.
With the bad alters gone and Bones having been torn from me, the rest have faded. I seek them out. All of them. But they all remain just out of reach. Kush assures me they’re doing it because they love me. Sometimes love hurts.
“You ready to go, kiddo?” Chase’s mom, Cynthia, calls out.
He slides off the bench seat and runs over to her.
“Don’t forget to grab your snack,” I tell him. “You did a great job.”
Chase gives me a snaggle-toothed smile and takes a small bag of Cheetos from the basket on my desk. She mouths a thank you to me before they head out. I stand from the piano and survey the space around me.
My studio.
I’m still in awe of it.
Once I got well enough to leave the hospital, Yeo had one of the rooms in his building renovated to suit my needs. One wall is nothing but windows that overlook the glistening Monongahela River, and sometimes I find myself curled up on one of the bean bags in front of the glass simply admiring the view. He’d had my piano delivered from my house and had even decorated the space with some of my favorite things. It’s painted a fresh, off-white color. I love how inviting and pure and fresh it is.
Now, I teach my piano students here, instead of at my house that is currently up for sale. He and Kush have even referred some of their patients to me. I’m not certified in music therapy, but it’s something I’ve begun to look into online. Until then, I just continue teaching piano like I normally do. The patients, my students, seem to enjoy themselves. It makes me happy and keeps me busy.
“All done for the day?”
Yeo’s deep voice soaks through me like hot steam in a sauna. He’s always had such a physical effect on me. I turn and regard my doctor. So handsome today in his black slacks and light grey dress shirt. His tie is loose around his neck and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up revealing his toned forearms. I bite on my bottom lip before looking up into his chocolate orbs. A smug smile sits on his full lips and I want to kiss it until it becomes mine.
“I missed you,” I tell him as I glide over to him. I’m walking on clouds. That’s Yeo’s effect on me.
He’s gentle when he pulls me to him. Ever since the incident, he handles me as if I’m a porcelain figurine, like the ones his mother collects. That he might accidentally hold me in a way that crushes me to dust. I hate that he’s afraid.
My body is healed.
It’s my heart that’s still bleeding.
“Take me home,” I tell him.
He looks down at me and kisses me on the nose. “My pleasure.”
Hand in hand, we walk down the two flights of stairs and out of his building. Yeo looks both ways before guiding me across the street. A block of newly renovated lofts sits situated between Kush’s favorite pizza place and a small bookstore that’s been around since the fifties. Home is unit 9B.
Nine alters.
B for Bones.
Yeo shyly admitted that’s why he chose that unit. But also, the unit faces his building. It’s on the top floor, the biggest of them all, and it’s ours. Bad memories don’t haunt me here. In fact, it’s my second happy place. Together, we’ve decorated it in a way that tells our story.
He unlocks the door once we’re upstairs and I trail in after him. The bright white walls and light grey furniture are modern and inviting. We managed to add color by pulling the colorful parts of our life and showcasing them all over. Presley’s artwork is framed and decorates our home. A lamp from my mother’s bedroom sits on an end table. All of Grandma’s Agatha Christie books line a bookcase by our fireplace. Many family pictures decorate the mantel. Lots of Yeo and I. Some of him and his family. A few of me and my family. Several of my alters. My favorite is the picture in the center.
Bones wears a Beastie Boys black T-shirt and sits on the front porch with a blunt dangling from his lips. His brown eyebrow is lifted up in an amused way. Love lights up his normally troubled eyes. I know Yeo is behind the camera because Bones only ever looked at him that way. As if he was his entire world.
I swipe away a tear when I feel warmth wrap around me from behind.
A different warmth than the past.
Yeo’s warmth.
“Patty called earlier and asked if we wanted to have dinner with her and Barclay this weekend. She said she wants you to show her how to make that icebox pie,” he murmurs against my hair. His palms hover over my still occasionally sore abdomen. I wish he’d grip my flesh and handle me like old times.
“Okay.”
I can feel his smile behind me. I smile too. Twisting in his arms, I ask him the question that’s been on my mind a lot lately. “Why won’t you have sex with me?”
His cheeks turn slightly pink and his jaw clenches. I can feel him grow hard between us. We both want it. When he’s pressed up against me late at night, his erection pokes into me. Yet…he never acts on it. I think he thinks I’m broken.
“You were stabbed multiple times, Kady. And your…” he trails of. His forehead drops to mine and he rests it there with his eyes closed.
I run my palms up the front of his dress shirt and chew on my bottom lip. My uterus had been damaged beyond repair. They took it out. I didn’t even have a say in the matter. “My doctor said I’m healthy and healed for sex. I asked him.”
His eyes open and he regards me sadly. “I know but…” He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “What if it hurts you?”
I slip my hand between us and grip his cock
through his pants causing him to groan with pleasure. “Then we stop. But I want to try, Yeo. Will you try for me? I’m not going to break. I feel good. Stop fearing you’re going to hurt me.”
He lets out a hiss of breath before his fingers spear into my messy hair. His mouth crashes to mine. It isn’t a soft kiss or gentle in any way. Our teeth clatter together and our tongues duel for ownership.
I let his win…
And my prince, my never-ending force of love, scoops me in his strong, capable arms. He strides with me through the living room and down the hallway. Our kiss never wanes as he enters our room and sets me to my feet. He pulls away long enough to start plucking through the buttons on his shirt. I peel my sweater dress from my body and toss it to the floor. My panties drop next. I’m not wearing a bra. I don’t care for them much. I’ll blame Bones for that.
As Yeo undresses, my gaze flits to the large framed photos on the wall, all arranged in an artfully done collage. The pictures from the book Yeo made have been blown up and framed. Of course, technically, they’re all of me. But I don’t see me. I see them.
Whiskers. Officer Joe. Agatha. Presley. Aunt Suzy.
And Bones.
The bad alters stay in the book but sometimes I look at them too.
Even Norman.
Kush says I’m brave. That I’m facing my past.
I don’t feel brave.
“Are you sure?” Yeo questions, his fingers under my chin. He turns and lifts my head so that we’re staring at one another.
“I am.”
He grins at me. Such a perfect, beautiful, sexy smile. All mine. This man of mine guides me onto our soft bed. His brows furrow as he regards my scars. Fingertips dance over each one, nothing but a whisper of a feeling.
I like his whispers.
“Yeo…”
Dark eyes penetrate mine. Hunger and need and love so fierce pour from him. I want to drown in him. Death by Yeo. What a way to go…
His soft lips press little kisses all over my mottled flesh. With each intimate touch, my need for him intensifies. Every single nerve ending in my body is alive. They all point to him. They all beg him to touch them. And he does. Yeo is attentive and worships my body. He doesn’t rush but instead takes his time.
