by Janie Marie
She laughed, rubbing her eyes. “So I can’t get better?”
He shook his head. “A girl once said, ‘I’m never better . . . But for a tiny moment, I believed I wouldn’t fail.’ That’s all you should do. Live from moment to moment and believe in yourself. Get stronger. Fight every battle.”
Kylie took a deep breath. His words sounded like what Janie had said to her at the gym after her panic attack. She sighed, staring at the letters.
“You can do this, Kylie,” Lance said tenderly, the way a good father encouraged his child. “Just take the step forward. A leap of faith, you could say. Realize that we all know the dark truth, yet we’re supporting you.”
It didn’t really feel that way. How was sticking someone in a place all by themselves supportive? It was a way of putting someone somewhere to forget about them.
“Kylie,” Lance said, his voice deep and demanding. “You have the same look on your face as Janie did when I first suggested to her she go to therapy after her mother’s death. You know what Arthur did when he saw that look? He jumped to her defense and said she was surrounded by people who loved her, and that God was all she needed. Then what happened? He left her with me—with my wife and forbid us from getting her proper help.
“She became dependent on Logan, then Logan became dependent on her when Gwen died and I was in jail. And where are they now? Struggling. Starting at square one, and Janie’s finally receiving therapy as her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, and her family go with her. You won’t be there alone forever. But you must take these first steps on your own so you’re not dependent upon a single person. We’ll be there when you’re ready.”
She held her head, breathing fast. She was afraid to go in the room. They were going to lock her in, strap her down, and he would come.
“You have a room Janie picked especially for you,” Stephen said.
Kylie jerked her head up. “What?”
He smiled, hitching his thumb toward the room behind him. “Each room has a theme. Logan painted this one. She thought you’d benefit from it, and you would feel a little less alone because he’s been there.”
“Go see your room, Kylie,” Lance said. “The nurse is here to draw Lorelei’s blood. We’ll see you soon.”
She stared at Lorelei. Her makeup-free face made her prettier, in Kylie’s opinion. All the pain visible, it was from love. “Okay,” Kylie whispered, closing her eyes. “Okay.”
“Be brave,” Lance whispered.
She felt Stephen move, and she figured Lance had ended the call.
“Ready?” he asked.
Kylie lifted her head. These were two people she didn’t know, but she felt safe in their presence. “I’ll be in there for how long?”
Wendy answered, “The doctor will visit you tomorrow, and he’ll determine if you’re ready to move into a shared room or remain in a private one.”
“So, if I’m acting like I was when I got here, he’ll leave me in there longer?”
Wendy nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I’m angry.”
“I know.” Wendy touched the letters. “But you’re not alone.”
Kylie took a deep breath and got up. “Okay.”
Stephen walked toward the door, holding it open.
“You’re not one of those fairytale fanatics, are you?” She took one step, pausing.
A low, comforting chuckle slipped past his lips. “Not really. I believe in this place, though.” He pointed at a drawing behind her. It showed a demon whispering in a boy’s ear while another demon pinned a girl down to the bed. The image was horrifying. “My cousin drew that. She’s the one who brought me here. I didn’t think we stood a chance, but here I am, and my cousin lives a happy life with her husband. She stayed afloat because she had these fairy tales. If the fantasy helps some survive or escape, then I say why the hell not?”
Kylie was thankful he wasn’t overly praising Janie, but it was heartwarming to see Janie’s treatment center had helped her family, even without her knowing it. “Are you close to Janie?”
“No. She’s a bit much to be around for too long.” He smiled awkwardly, like he hadn’t meant to admit that. “She’s happy with her guys, and I’m content just getting by on the benefits her mean, rich boyfriend gives me.”
Kylie laughed, wiping her tears and nodding. “I think you and I can get along then.”
He winked, holding the door wider. “Sounds good to me.”
She gasped as she entered the room. It wasn’t at all like any hospital she’d ever seen. Every wall, even the ceiling and floor, was painted. There were trees, scary but some magical with glowing vines. The branches stretched overhead and across the walls. There were horses, and what looked like two unicorns in the distance. No, not just unicorns—winged unicorns.
And, of course, Red Riding Hood. She was lying on her back, her head tilted to the side, leaving her long dark hair in a halo as a male angel with black wings lay beside her, mimicking her position. They looked asleep with their eyes closed as they held hands. No, not asleep. Dead.
That’s when she noticed a second Red Riding Hood across the room. A hood hid her face, but she drew back an arrow on the bow she held, aiming it at the shadowy wolf approaching the first Red Riding Hood.
Tears misted her eyes. Logan. He was here with her.
“It’s one of the loveliest rooms we have,” Wendy said. “He put a lot of his heart into this one. He painted most of them, but this was Janie’s favorite, minus the library. He did the American Fairy Tales in there.”
Kylie’s eyes drifted toward the moon on the ceiling. There was only one small window in the room, one that no one could fit through, so this would be all she would see of the sky. “A half moon,” she murmured.
“It has some significance to the goddess in the stories,” Stephen said.
She nodded, knowing he was probably right. “So I get locked in now?”
Wendy guided her to the bed. “You must change into these, and I will put your clothes into this bag and await you upon release. You can keep the letters, but you’ll have to remove the ribbon. It’ll be safe with your bag. You have a toilet and sink behind that divider there. We will slide food through the door partition three times a day.”
Stephen walked toward the door. “I’ll be outside while you change. Wendy will stay to ensure you leave nothing behind.”
Kylie darted her gaze to Wendy as Stephen shut the door. “You’re going to watch me?”
“No, you may go behind the divider. I must search the area once you’re done. And you’ll have to pat yourself down to show you brought nothing dangerous.”
“Okay.” Kylie took the sweats they’d given her and rushed behind the barrier. She just wanted to sleep now. And she had nothing on her, so it was pointless to act like she was going to keep anything.
After she finished, she came out. Wendy watched her raise her pant legs and show her stomach. Then she checked behind the divider.
“All right.” Wendy gestured to the letters. “If you would give me the ribbon, I’ll put it in here.”
Kylie did as she was told, but her nerves had her shaking. “I’ll probably want to give these back to her, so please don’t lose it.”
“I give you my word, everything you give me will be safe.” Wendy sealed the bag and gave her a kind smile. “Maura is in the Neverland room beside yours. She’s aware you’re neighbors.”
“Neverland? Like Peter Pan?” Kylie wondered what wall they shared.
“Yes.” Wendy looked sad. “The stars. That’s how Janie talks to her loved ones who’ve passed. I believe it’s something secret between her and Mr. Godson. She felt Maura would benefit from it—talking to her sister, you know?”
“Oh,” Kylie mumbled.
Wendy pointed at the wall where a silhouette of a boy flying with a girl toward a star. “Her bed is opposite there. Now get some rest. Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kylie watched her knock on the door. S
tephen gave her a brief wave, then shut the door, locking it.
She was all alone. No, not alone. Kylie sat down, scooting to the corner. She glanced at the Peter Pan on the wall, wondering what Maura was doing. She’d hated her. She was still so angry, but she didn’t know who she was angry at anymore. Maybe just herself.
She picked up the letters, pulling the first one free. The paper shook like a leaf as she unfolded it, and she gasped, dropping the letter and covering her mouth. “Kylie?” She shook her head. Damon had stressed Janie had written these before ever meeting her. It was a mistake.
Yet, when she lifted the letter, her trembling hand rattled the paper as it read:
Dear Kylie,
When I was a Kid, when I was Young, still a Little girl–Innocent, Everything was possible. I will try to show you my life through these letters. I will give you what I needed when I was a Kylie. Read my mistakes, my nightmares, my triumphs. Then maybe—just maybe, I will have succeeded after all. Maybe you’ll choose light. Always. Maybe when darkness surrounds you, you’ll remember how I cried, how I bled—how I roared.
Maybe if you see my pain, my scars, my shame—maybe you will avoid suffering your own.
As you read these letters, remember none of this is for me. It’s for you. I wish you could only see light and never know horror, but even without blood sucking monsters, darkness is born. True monsters, those who smile and everyone calls friend, can find and destroy you.
I once read that a goddess built this world, and she foolishly believed it could be perfect. A fairy tale. But she forgot fairy tales hold lessons built in darkness. And so much darkness existed in what she had to build it with. Cleaning it would mean destruction, so she agreed to suffer with hopes others would not.
The boys I love say I look like her. They say I sound like her, and I smile like her. Ryder says my soul is hers. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’ll do as they ask. I’ll bear my pain in these letters.
Now, Kylie, the girl I will never get to be. Read my darkness. Read how I was swallowed by the Big Bad Wolf. Then remember my mistakes, my triumphs—my tears and smiles. Remember my roar. Remember I was never alone, and neither are you.
Remember me. For I am with you for longer than always & beyond forever.
You are not the Big Bad Wolf.
You are the huntress. Roar.
From the girl who died, only to begin again,
Janie Hasieran Mortaime
Kylie’s hands trembled, and she sobbed when there was a knock on the wall. She covered her eyes, crying loudly. There was another knock. Kylie hugged the letters as she knocked back. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”
Thirteen
DEAR KYLIE
Noise outside the door sent Kylie scrambling up on her bed. She rubbed the sleep from her tired, puffy eyes, noticing Janie’s letters scattered about. She’d stayed up all night reading as many as she could. She still had more to go through—the girl had quite a lot of stories to tell.
A knock sounded on her door, then the lock clicked and suddenly she was staring at a remarkable man wearing a white coat. He had a folder with her name visible on the label. There was no smile on his face, but he didn’t give her any unsettling vibes. In fact, she felt entirely calm as he approached her.
“Hello, Kylie.” He stopped walking when he reached the foot of the bed. “I’m Dr. Gabriel Godson, the head director of this treatment center. I’ll lead your treatment while you’re here.”
Her eyes nearly popped out of her freaking head.
He finally smiled—dazzling, just like all the Godsons. “Yes, I’m a Godson. One of the less rowdy bunch, though.”
Stephen poked his head in, and when Gabriel waved him forward, he rolled a stool in. “Good morning, Kylie.”
Instead of greeting him, she kept her eyes glued to Gabriel Godson’s brilliant green pair. They weren’t emerald-colored like Ryder’s, more forest green, like hers.
“I’ll bring your breakfast when you’re finished.” Stephen smiled, waving bye and shutting the door on his way out.
“Well,” Gabriel said, sitting. “I suppose you’re curious to know how closely related I am to Ryder, Luc, and the others?”
She nodded, afraid to say anything else. He didn’t really look like the others, more like a Greek god, but not one you’d fear—one who was full of compassion and knowledge.
“I’m their older brother,” he said, touching his curly brown hair. It was only shoulder-length; it suited him. “I’m the only one with curly hair in our family.”
“You don’t talk like they do.” She was expecting him to spout scripture or something biblical. Or Satanic. She wasn’t sure what Ryder and the other three brothers were. If Luc was supposed to be Lucifer, which she didn’t believe one bit, they surely all thought they were something from either Hell or Heaven.
“Well, we were raised separately.” He wore a clever smile that seemed like it belonged on Luc’s face.
She felt more comfortable with this information. “Is Maura all right?”
His gaze went to the wall she shared with Maura. “As well as I had hoped. She’s still next door. She likes the room, and she wants to stay there until you move.”
“So she’s stuck in there until I get let out?” What was Maura thinking? Why was Maura acting like a child? She could be just as monstrous as she was.
Stop trying to fall, Kylie. Everyone is trying to hold you up. The hooded girl no longer wore her hood. She looked just like Kylie. One side of her face discolored with bruises and tears, the other perfect except for the hint of a wicked sneer at the corner of her mouth.
“No, she just felt comforted knowing you were nearby.” He tilted his head as he observed her. “Maura asked for another night and said she would think about moving tomorrow. If I feel it’s harming her to stay there, I’ll see that she’s moved.”
“I don’t like this,” Kylie blurted.
He smiled, a patient sort of smile. “Would you elaborate?”
She was panicking again. “He broke up with me.” She watched him, waiting for him to tell her to get over it. He didn’t. “I’ve been living like this, believing Lorelei and Maura were only out to hurt me—it still feels that way—like I didn’t deserve this. But then I remember.” She whimpered, looking away from his face. “I remember how Lorelei would read to me. She wasn’t mean. She was nice. She wanted me to be safe. But I was always more concerned with looking better than Maura—with wanting my dad to pay attention to me. But he was . . .”
Kylie squeezed her eyes shut. “And I let him. But she’s”—she waved her hand toward the wall—“acting like a child, like she hasn’t hurt me. Worse, I know now she wasn’t the one hitting me since we moved—and she only hit me to fight back. I can’t quite separate it, though. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I feel sorry for her or if I hate her. I want to hate her like I always have, but she seems so different now.”
He held up a hand, stopping her from going on. “I realize Logan Grimm ended your relationship prior to you coming here. I don’t think there’s such a thing as an easy breakup. It will take time to cope with it, and I won’t discredit your feelings for him, or what you believed you had together.”
A tender look crossed his face. “I don’t believe it was his intention to hurt you. I’m aware he said some things right before leaving you that he probably shouldn’t have said, but I think his heart was in the right place.”
She exhaled loudly. “You know he told me he was in love with her?”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I think he needed you to give up on him. It was wrong to hurt you this way, but he had your heart in mind, and he wanted you to know the truth. If you hoped things could work out with him—with the lie you created together—you might not have come here, where he believes you’ll receive what you need.”
Bitter words rose and died in her throat. She couldn’t bear the truth Logan had unloaded. But it was better than her own truth.
G
abriel seemed to know that since he smiled. “It’s heartbreaking, but I understand your desire to focus on him rather than the matters truly important right now. So, instead of brushing off your heartbreak, I will offer advice one might give a younger sister. When you’re alone, write out your sorrow. Write to him, ask him everything that burns your heart. You may send them once I grant those privileges. Or, what I would do, simply keep them for yourself. You’ll be surprised by how writing or even drawing your thoughts out can help. Often, you’ll find those questions already had answers within—you were just unwilling to listen. You’re more than welcome to discuss your breakup further, but I would like to address your comments about Maura now, if that’s all right with you.”
She only nodded. She wasn’t ready to talk about Logan. She didn’t even know why she’d told him anything about him. Maybe he was one of those people Logan had told her about—where they were the best at everything, and this guy gave off major trust vibes.
“Maura has a very complex list of disorders and a very traumatic past,” Gabriel said. “Your stepmother tried as best she could to get her care, but her fear because of what had already happened destroyed her trust in healthcare professionals and law enforcement. She—Lorelei—was against sending either of you off without her. However, she trusts our family. So you are here with Maura, and you will both have your own ways of dealing with the traumatic events of your past and most recent events. Maura was hostile with you, but you’re aware of how traumatized she was when she came to your room that night.
“Her mind is fragile, and she’s torn between the abused child she was and the lost girl who first raised her hand to you. She knows she hurt you, but she’s stuck wondering why no one helped her, why you hated her for no reason—why you continued to hurt yourself while blaming her, letting others believe she was not a victim herself.”
