I can understand her frustration, but that’s the thing about Jenn. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be. She’ll come out of hiding when she needs something, and not a moment before.
“You’re right,” I say. “I’m not Jenn. Not by a longshot, but that’s not going to stop people from comparing us, especially now that they know about the accident.”
“That wasn’t your fault either.” I’d told Carley the truth about the accident when I first moved in with her. Even though I was the one who set the fire, she’s convinced herself I’m innocent in that instance, too. “You were doing what your mother told you to do. It’s on Jenn, not you.”
“Yeah, well, I was a big girl. I could’ve told her no.”
She rolls her eyes. She always hates when I use that argument, but it’s one I won’t quit. Maybe it’ll ease my guilt over James’ death by claiming my share of the responsibility aloud whenever I can.
“Last year isn’t the focus right now,” she argues, steering us back to Angelview. “I should sue that school for what they did to you. What they allowed your classmates to get away with.”
Yeah, I’d told her what Saint and Laurel did because I needed to vent. She has no idea the amount of torment I suffered throughout the rest of the semester, though. I never had the heart to tell her because I knew she would just worry about me or demand I come home. At the time, I’d been determined to stay.
But that’s all over now. I played the game as long as I could, and it nearly killed me. Looking back, I realize I was just being stubborn. Yes, Angelview would’ve been great for my future—for the college applications I’ve yet to start—but ultimately, the mental torment wasn’t worth it.
I keep telling myself that, anyway, whenever I feel guilty or disappointed in myself for giving up. For letting Saint have his way in the end. He always gets his way because that’s just the life Saint lives. I was an idiot to think I could do anything to change him or the world he exists in.
I never stood a chance, and I wish I’d figured that out long before now.
“There’s really no point in stressing about it or being angry,” I finally say with a heavy groan. “Nothing we do will have any real consequences on those people. They’re not like us. Their world isn’t like the normal world and they don’t get in trouble the same way we would.”
She pauses in front of my dresser, her expression stricken. “But, Mal … we can’t just let them get away with how they treated you. If they do, the cycle will never end. What do you think they’ll do to the next person?”
I hate how apathetic I feel about the whole situation. Just weeks earlier, I would’ve been as fired up and furious as Carley. I would’ve wanted justice for myself, no matter who I had to go up against to gain it.
That’s how I first met Saint, after all. I called him out for picking on someone he’d have considered beneath him. I stood up to him and was likely the first person to do so in a long time. We’d hated each other from that moment forward—until we didn’t.
At least, until I didn’t. He’d apparently been hating me even when he was obsessing over me and making me feel things I never should’ve.
Maybe that’s why I feel so empty inside. So hollow. My fire and passion are all gone. I feel like I’ve been drained of every part of my personality and am just a husk of a person now. I could lie and say that it’s all because of Angelview and what I went through at the hands of my peers, but I know it’s mostly because of Saint. Because I let my guard down and trusted him. Was so close to surrendering my heart to him, whether I liked it or not. He broke me, just like he always said he would.
Except the bastard isn’t here to put me back together.
“It’s over, Carley,” I whisper with a shake of my head. “Can we please just leave it like that?”
Her brow knits together as she studies me for several beats, then she releases a resigned breath.
“Fine,” she mumbles. She walks over and sits on the bed next to me. I drop my head onto her shoulder, soaking in her comfort and secretly wishing I could stay like this forever. Carley’s the only person I have now. She’s the only person I feel safe around.
“I love you, Carley. You’re everything Jenn should’ve been,” I murmur. The words aren’t planned, but they’re the honest truth, and this moment feels like a good time to speak them out loud.
She tenses for a moment, no doubt from shock. I’m not the most emotionally forward person. I don’t often voice my feelings, even though I try to make them obvious through my actions. She deserves to hear them, though.
“I love you too, baby girl,” she whispers, pressing her lips to the top of my head and stroking her fingers down my long, loose braid. “I know … I know you’ve been through a lot, but you’ll always have me, you realize that, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, I do.”
We fall into a comfortable silence for several minutes, and I feel the closest to content than I’ve been since coming home.
At length, Carley breaks the silence by saying, “You know I’ve known you about as long as I’ve known Jenn, right?”
I raise my head from her shoulder and meet her gaze. “I do.”
She met Jenn when I was just a toddler, after a fall from Jenn’s bed landed me in the ER. Back then, Carley was still a student nurse, only a few years older than Mom and getting her first experiences with actual hospital work in Rayfort. The two had bonded, surprisingly enough. They’d stayed in contact, even after Carley left for Atlanta and my mom continued her downward spiral.
“If I’d been able to, I’d have taken you in years ago,” she confesses, swiping her thumb across my cheek. “I hated being so helpless, knowing the situation you were in, but not being able to do anything to get you out of it. When Jenn asked me to take care of you, it was a dream come true for me.”
My heart thumps as I stare at her. “Really?”
Her head moves up and down. “Absolutely, yes. The day you moved in here was one of the best days of my life. All I’ve wanted to do is love and protect you because I can’t...”
She can’t have kids of her own. It was what had ended her marriage a few years back and something Momma had drunkenly thrown in her face when Carley confronted her about the identity theft.
I’d hated Jenn that day.
“And you have,” I whisper, throwing my arms around her to give her a tight hug. She’s given me more love and security in a year than Jenn did my whole life.
She sniffles, and I know she’s tearing up as she hugs me back. I smile, and for the first time since I left Angelview, I feel something different within my broken soul.
Something … hopeful.
5
Two days later, I’m feeling better.
At least, a little.
That spark of hope Carley lit up inside me has been growing centimeter by centimeter, and I find myself thinking about Saint and Angelview and that photo less and less. Actually, scratch that. I still think about Saint way more than I should, but there are moments when I can focus on other things and actually function like a semi-normal human being.