Page 124 of Isolation

“I still worked with the mentor from my internship. At that time… I couldn’t even bear it if anyone touched me. I’d have adverse reactions if they did. One day, my mentor was showing us the best way to cut fragile material. He touched my hand to move it over the cloth, and I tried to stab him with my scissors.”

“Baby—”

“I got kicked out of my internship. Later, I spoke to my mentor. The remote internship was required for me to graduate high school and to attend college at Paris School of Fashion. My mentor took pity on me. He said if I got help, he would mark the internship as completed. So as not to ruin my future, he wouldn’t report what I did. I realized he was right. So, I tried therapy, but it was counterproductive. It just left me feeling exhausted. I didn’t want to talk about it, especially with someone I didn’t know. Then Mia emailed me, asking to visit. She stuck by me that whole summer. Suddenly, I felt okay again. She was better than therapy.”

“And after Mia left?” I ask quietly.

“It was hard after Mia left,” Raven admits. “At college, I had already gained a reputation as the crazy girl who stabs teachers and punches walls,” she laughs, shaking her head.

I am missing the humor in this situation. I almost stare at her in disbelief for trying to make light of this conversation.

“I didn’t speak the language," Raven continues when she catches my glare, "so I only socialized with the few brave souls who dared to approach me, but it was all meaningless connections. I wanted to be around my family and counted down the days until Mia’s next break. She became my lifeline.”

My throat is completely dry. I know what happened next, as realizationdawns on me.

“I took that away from you," I say in a horrified voice. "I wouldn’t let you see Mia anymore.”

Rave only gives me an awkward smile but doesn’t verbally confirm.

I brush her cheeks with my knuckles softly. “I know it was all really hard for you, but we can move forward. You can go back to therapy. I’ll go with you, and we’ll work on it together.”

Raven gently moves my hand from her cheek.

“That year, I checked myself into a depression treatment center outside of Paris.”

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“That year, I checked myself into a depression treatment center outside of Paris.”

I take an audible sharp breath.

That’s when the truth hits me.

She is never going to forgive me, nor will she ever be okay around me.

It’s selfish for that to be the first thought to cross my mind in light of what Raven is disclosing, but I can’t help it.

For the entire Sinclair clan, there is only one fate that has always been worse than death.

Tessa's face, thelife of a rotting, breathing corpse.

I push myself off the couch to stand up. Raven is still lying on her back.

Her eyes follow me as I pace towards the fireplace and make my way back. I have no fucking idea what to say or how to react. My insides are twisted into a knot.

Fuck. I can’t stand still, nor can I sit.

“How long were you at the center?” I manage to rasp out.

“Three months,” she sighs. “Everyone thought I was still going to classes. I had some money saved up that I used to pay for the center.”

I nod my head as I keep pacing back and forth. “What made you leave the center?”

Please tell mebecause I was all better. But that’s not how this works.

Raven shrugs. “I didn’t find the place helpful. Plus, I received an email from a mutual friend group that Reid and I share,” Raven mutters. “They were tired of the feud between Reid and I. They wanted both of us to come on a trip to Costa Rica. Reid shockingly agreed so I checked out of the facility,” Raven shrugs as if it’s the only logical reason to leave.

“Oh,” I can barely keep my voice steady.