1
Kleo
Echoes of screams that have long silenced fill my head as flashes of red and blue illuminate the night, obliterating the stars above. Tonight should have been happy, a celebration, and instead, it became a crime scene. A horrific memory that will always haunt me.
Hot tears stream down my face, my chest feeling heavier than it’s ever been before as I kneel in the puddle of red on the white carpet of my bedroom floor. My now-tattered pale pink gown is stained with blotches of crimson, the once flowy fabric weighed down by the blood soaking it.
Glass shards bite into the skin of my knees, the pain nothing compared to the sharp throbbing of my head. Reaching up, I tenderly touch the broken skin now held together by two strips of medical tape. I sob, my shoulders shaking with the weight of my terror now that the adrenaline is wearing off.
But none of that—not even the pain—can compare to the embarrassment, the humiliation I feel. Cold air nips at me from the broken window, and I open my eyes to stare out at a black sky that had been filled with the lights of police cruisers only minutes before.
I never considered that my world could be imperfect. That the threat was real. I’d been naïve, stupid. A rich girl with no understanding of how the world works. And now that I’m here, now that I’ve seen the ugly, I would give anything to forget.
My gaze travels up to the pale pink curtains flowing in the wind. Torn and tattered like my life, I want to rip them down. Scream. Throw them out the window.
How can I ever move on from this? Will I ever be okay?
“Kleo?”
I shoot up in bed, as I attempt to breathe and slow my racing heart. In and out, in and out. Tears dried and crusted on my cheeks, sweat coats my brow as my mind continues to replay that horrific memory.
“Dammit,” I cover my face with shaking hands. It’s been two years. Why the hell am I still so haunted by it?
I shove my comforter all the way off and get to my feet, walking into my bathroom to splash some water on my face. Logically, I know why the nightmares have returned. For the first time in a year, I’m alone. My roommate moved out a few weeks ago, and while Macey and I were never particularly close, having her here helped me feel not so isolated from good people.
I lift my head and stare at my face in the mirror. A small scar is the only evidence of the attack that took place two years ago tonight. A small line on the side of my head. My heart aches, pain clenching a fist around the muscle that keeps me alive.
My phone rings, and I jump, pressing a hand to my racing heart once again. Shit. I head back into my bedroom and lift my cell to my ear, answering without checking the readout. It doesn’t really matter who’s on the other end of the line; they serve as a distraction.
“Hello?”
“Kleo!”
My name comes through the speaker so loud that I pull my phone away from my ear momentarily. “Andrea?” I can barely hear her over the loud music coming in from the background.
“Where you at, bitch? You should be here partying!”
I smile and take a seat on the edge of my bed. With finals behind us, tonight is one of the largest party nights here at Florida State. For me, it’s just one step closer to the trip I’ll be taking home tomorrow, where I’ll be spending the summer in back-to-back meetings as my father teaches me all I need to know about taking over his position.
“I have an early trip tomorrow,” I tell her, and she laughs loudly in my ear.
“What did you say? Sorry, Jace was being a dumbass.”
I chuckle. “I have an early trip tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on! You’re leaving tomorrow! Let’s live it up!” Andrea squeals and giggles loudly, and I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Fine. Text me the address.” I end the call and toss my phone to the comforter, flopping back onto my mattress. Going out tonight will be the best thing for me. I can toss back copious amounts of alcohol until I’m so drunk I don’t remember cryptic letters and gropy hands.
Or the fear I felt at both.
Drunk has been a permanent state for me since I got back here. Of course, coming back to get my master’s had never been part of the plan. I was supposed to stay home after graduating with my bachelor’s two years ago. I was going to take over my family’s summer camp for troubled youth. Put my psychology degree to good use, helping others.
But how the hell am I supposed to help anyone when I can’t beat back my own demons?
Let’s not go there. Getting out of bed, I grab a pair of jeans and a crop top from my closet and dress quickly. After tossing my hair up into a messy bun, I retrieve my phone and check my messages. At least she remembered to send me the address.
After ordering an Uber, I grab a Red Bull from the refrigerator then retrieve my keys and purse before stepping out into the hall of my apartment building. Most of the residents are asleep by now. I specifically chose to stay away from the college part of town, wanting my quiet.
When I realized that wouldn’t work, I chose chaos. At least if things are insane, it’s because I chose that path. I made the decision to party, to forget, and no one can take my choice away from me. Besides, when I’m drunk and happy, no one can see the dull shine that used to be my optimistic outlook.
There’s a black sedan sitting outside the apartment building, so after checking the description of the car coming to get me, I head over to the door and peek inside.
“Hey there, sweetie. For Kleo?”
Smiling, I nod at the older woman behind the wheel and climb inside. She opens the map on her phone and pulls away from the curb.
“How are you tonight?” she asks.
“Fine, you?” I lie, knowing all too well what happens when you peel back a little bit of vulnerability. No one ever looks at you the same. Even if it’s just a stranger you’ll more than likely never see again.
“I’m doing great. Enjoying this wonderful weather we’ve got.”
I smile. “Hot and humid?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It means the summer is coming, and that’s when my grandkids come out to visit.”
“That’s great. You have fun things planned?”
“We sure do. We’re going to do a statewide trip. I want to take them through the small coastal towns so they can experience a little bit of everything Florida has to offer.”
“You should check out Turner Cove,” I say. “It’s a gorgeous little town.” My family has owned nearly all business in Turner Cove since it was established in the late 1800s. Passed down through the generations, it’s where I was born and probably where I’ll die.
“Turner Cove?”
“It’s about three hours from here. Sits on a beautiful beach but isn’t well-known enough to get swarmed by tourists.”
“We will have to check it out then. Thanks for the tip.” She puts her car in park down the street from the house party and turns to smile at me. “You stay safe tonight.”
“Will do, you do the same. It was nice chatting with you.”
“You too, dear.”
I climb out and leave her a generous tip before shoving my phone into my purse and heading down the street. It’s well lit, streetlamps glowing brightly in the dark. Faded music reaches me where I stroll, the steady thump of bass evidence of the party I’m headed to. I’ll be surrounded by people, laughing, smiling, and yet I know I’ll still feel empty inside.