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Chapter Twenty-Six

Koda

Stupid.

I don’t know if I’m stupid, or if she’s stupid. Maybe we’re both fucking stupid.

For a second, I thought she might cry. I thought she might show me something, anything, to prove that all of this meant something to her. Ashland is a master manipulator. That’s what I want to believe anyways.

When I found the letter, I was cleaning her stupid books up off of the floor. I figured I could try to read one of them because she loves them so fucking much. When I had said the thing about getting over her, it was when I realized I don’t want to. There was no desire in me to eventually move on from her, but I just didn’t know how to make it work. I was willing, though, more than willing, but I needed to tell her that. Talking to Ashland about anything serious is like trying to catch a cloud in a jar. The only languages she speaks are sex and books, and if I could find something, maybe I could find a way to get her to listen to me.

I picked the one that looked like it had been read the most. It was worn and falling apart. Looking for Alaska. She quoted it to me once in my kitchen. There were tons of notes written in scrawling handwriting. Page numbers with color coded tabs that marked quotes she loves, parts that make her think, and other things I couldn't determine were on the inside of the cover, which is so anti-Ashland that it blew my mind. She’s so fucking disorganized, like Alexi, but she has some method to the madness. There were doodles in the pages. It was nothing like the scary shit in her sketchbook. The letter was placed in the middle.

I don’t know what possessed me to open it. Well, I do. The letter was addressed to Yinny. Tearing it open was a gross abuse of the fact that I found it in the first place. Inside of it wasn’t at all what I expected. In her favorite fucking book was a letter addressed to her in a way I didn’t like, and it started with ‘My Beautiful Wife, Ashland’. I think I read it one hundred times before I moved on. It was full of promises and apologies. The stars. The goddamn stars that I’ve been obsessing over. The ones she tattooed on her arm were in memory of this fucking Damien guy. Her husband. Love, Damien. Love. Damien.

The rage I felt was something I've only felt one other time in my life. Ashland made me feel a lot of things, but true rage was never one of them. Then I confronted her about it. Two angry assholes arguing is never going to go well, especially with someone like me or someone like her. The stuff I said was so hateful, but she fucking used me in the worst way possible.

When I asked her to be my girlfriend, I thought there was a possibility she would flirt. Not this. I’m the other man, and he clearly knows about me. I said she’s not a good person, and I don’t even believe it. Ashland might be a brat and a bitch, but I’ve seen the way she cares about people in her strange way. She’d snap herself in half if it meant her guts would help Penny. The way she has accepted Alexi into her life has done him wonders. She even made me think she cared about me. Maybe she believed it, too.

My words were meant to hurt, but Ashland’s words? They were true. When she started talking about evil I actually felt afraid. There was an air about her that terrified me. It’s not a part of her I’ve ever seen. It was like there’s a demon that has just been waiting to wake up. It’s not that I’ve ever thought of her as innocent, but it was so different. She loves evil. So what does that say about me? It confirms everything I’ve always secretly thought about myself. I’m a fake. I’m a fraud. I’m just like my real father, and I’ve been pretending this entire time that it’s not true.

I let her in. I let her see those dark parts of me, and she never even questioned it because she’s fucked up. The red flags were all there. I ignored them as if I’m some guy making a jokes about how I like toxic bitches. It took one alternative slut to bring me to my knees. My slut. No, not mine. Damien’s. Whoever he is. I still don’t have a real answer, but I’ve seen his eyes enough times to know that she thinks about him. Nothing in those creepy eyes gave me a good feeling, but maybe it’s because deep down there is shame in her drawings. She's ashamed of what she's been up to.

I kind of wish I still had the sketchbook so I could torture myself.

It’s not that I thought the fight would end well. All of this shit we said to each other hurt, but that was nothing compared to the feeling I got when Ashland said our fucking safe words. That's the worst feeling in the world. Now I know why she picked them. They were reserved for someone else.

I call Alexi on my way home.

“Yo, what’s up,” he yawns.

“Come over and drink.”

“Uh, aren’t you with Ashland?”

“Not anymore,” I grit out.

It’s like Alexi already knows the double meaning in those words because all he says is that he’ll be right over. He shows up with a case of beer, and I drink. I smash three of them in ten minutes before my phone starts ringing. When I glance at the caller ID, the photo I took of Ashland as she painted the sky in the warehouse flashes on the screen. She hadn’t even noticed. Ashland looks gorgeous when she’s not paying attention, but it hurts to fucking see it under ‘My Slut’. I silence it.

“Ashland?” Alexi asks.

“Fuck her,” I snort.

“What happened?”

I crack open another. “We ended it.”

“Obviously. You’re four beers in, and I haven’t even halfway finished my first one. I mean, what happened? It kind of seemed like you two were…”

“Were what?” I demand.

“Good for each other,” he finishes.

I laugh. “Good for each other? You’re fucking blind. She’s toxic.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Yeah, well, you have no idea.” My phone buzzes with a voicemail.

“You should listen to that.” Alexi takes a sip. “Ashland doesn’t apologize, and at the very least I’d like to hear it once in my life.”

I slide the phone over to him. “You think she’d apologize? It’s probably so she can hurl more insults. Have at it. I don’t want to hear that shit. Block her after.”

He puts it up to his ear and leans against the counter. Alexi jumps, almost out of his skin, and his eyes widen. He pulls the phone away to look at it, then puts it back to his ear.

“That shocking, huh?”

He looks at me, and all of the color has drained from his face.

“Koda.” There’s a sense of desperation to his voice. The phone is clutched in his hand. “Koda, I don’t think this…I don’t think she was trying to call you.”

“What? Is it her fucking someone already?” I scoff.

“She’s…” He swallows. “She’s...”

I snatch the phone and set it on the counter, pressing play on speaker. I hear a man grunting. I’m about to turn it off when I hear the sound of a pop. Something heavy hits the floor, there is a crunch, and then she screams. Ashland screams . It’s not a frustrated one, but it’s terrified. I hear bodies hit the floor and there's more struggling, as Ashland starts to sob. Then she's screaming and growling.

“Go ahead and scream, baby. I know you need to get it all out,” a male voice says on the other end. Something metallic clatters to the floor.

I can’t stop listening.

There’s a growl. She screeches, and I hear the man roar in what sounds like pain. He calls her a bitch before there’s another pop.

“Goddammit, Ashland!” The man shouts. “You made me fucking shoot you.”

He said shoot. Those pops are of a gun. He shot her.

A thump. Fist meeting flesh. Then another shot. Another pop. Another scream accompanied by frantic sobbing. Screaming. Something else hits the floor and then a series of shots. Wheezing and pained laughing. Then there’s silence. Just silence.

I dial the phone. It’s all I can manage as I try to convince myself this is some insane ruse. It rings and rings and rings until I get her voicemail.

“We need to go over there,” I tell Alexi.

I try to talk myself out of it as I stand up and grab for my keys, I make arguments while I walk through the door with Alexi on my heels, and I figure out all of the ways I’ll get revenge on her for making me this scared. I’d rather her at least tell me to fuck myself than to ignore me. At least let me know she’s alive.

I drive to her house at a dangerous speed, hoping for some sort of response to stop this madness. I imagine that she’s going to be livid that I showed up, but I’ll know everything is okay. Then I can ruin her life a little more.

The lights are off in her house. It’s dark and seemingly empty. Penny’s car is still out front, though. I go back to my never ending internal debate as I get out of the car and head for the door. I turn the handle, but it doesn't give. Could it be that Ashland finally started using the lock? Seems improbable, and I didn’t lock it on my way out. I huff, trying to make the decision on if I use my key or not. Alexi grabs them from my hands and sorts through them carefully until he sticks one in the lock and opens the door.

I snatch them back. “What the hell?”

“I know you well enough to know that you have a key, Armory. Come on, let’s piss her off.” He’s in denial, too. Alexi holds his hand out, waving me in first.

It’s eerily quiet. I clear my throat. “Ashland?” I call out, using a tone of authority.

There’s no response. She could have walked somewhere. That’s a possibility. Maybe she took a ride share and she’s on her way to fucking Europe. Now we’re here, breaking into her house, and when she comes back she’s going to be more pissed than she already is, unless she never comes back.

“What’s that smell?” Alexi furrows his brows. I breathe deep. There’s a weird scent in the air. It smells like metal and something I can’t determine. Her house always smelled like almonds and vanilla, but now it smells like almonds, vanilla, and…and death. It’s a gross smell.

There are broken ceramic plates and bowls all over the floor. That’s the pops, I convince myself. She was angry and throwing things. It would explain why she was screaming. I follow the putrid scent down the hall until I reach the turn into the kitchen. At the end of the hallway is a hole in the drywall that I couldn’t see from the front door. The smell is overpowering here.

“Ashland?” Alexi reaches his fingers up and touches it.

My eyes sweep across a bloody kitchen. Ashland and Penny are messy, but not dirty. There are always dishes in the sink or stuff laying out on the counter, but the only things there are the sketchbook and the remnants of the letter. The page is laying on the marble and it’s burnt, splattered with blood. I take one step inside and see the deep dark red on the tile.

It’s wine, I reason. I confronted her with the truth, she lost her shit, and smashed a bottle. It’s wine. It’s wine. It’s wine.

If I tell myself that enough times, then it'll come true. I stand there in complete and utter shock, looking at Ash propped against the cabinets in the corner with her eyes closed. Blood pools around her. Her pink hair is caked in it. Her skin is slicked with it. Every shade of red, rust, and black covers her.

Next to her body is another lying face down in the mess.

Her phone is on the ground by my feet. I spring into action as Alexi is already speaking to 9-1-1.

Her chest rises and falls in light shallow breaths. They’re almost not even present. She’s been shot. The gun lays next to her, a knife next to the other body, and a skillet. The thud and the clatter. She's riddled with bullets from what I can tell. The shoulder, the stomach, and the leg. They’re everywhere.

Whoever is next to her tried to kill her.

The burner on the stove makes a sound like it’s adjusting. She was making tea before I left, but the kettle is laying in the living room next to the couch.

Out of all of the people she could have called, it was me. She needed me, and like an asshole I shoved her away. Those few minutes could mean life or death for Ashland, and it'll be all my fault.

Her head hangs over her chest. I collapse, my knees hitting the tile, and blood seeps into my sweatpants. I grab her cheeks between my hands. Her skin is so cold and pale. There’s a gash across her eyebrow, down her temple and through her cheek. I can’t even make out where the blood is coming from in her torso. I fucking weep.

“No. No, Ashland, please.” Tears stream down my face. “Ashland, baby girl, please wake up. Wake up.”

“She’s been shot,” Alexi says into the phone.

“Ashland, can you hear me?” I hold her head between my palms and push her eyelids open. Her eyes focus slowly, but her pupils are so dilated that I can see that I’m losing her with every second that passes. Her lips are turning blue. Why was I so fucking arrogant and stupid? Why did I fucking sulk instead of answering? Why haven’t I been here for her? If Ashland loses her life it'll be all my fault.

“Ko?” she rasps.

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here,” I sniffle.

“Who’d’ve thought I’d see you when I died.”

“You’re not dying,” I lie, smoothing her hair back from her face.

She starts to laugh and cry. It’s pained, and it’s so weak that she doesn’t manage to shed any tears. “Take care of Penny. I gotta go.” Her words are slurred. She tries to lift her hand to touch my face. I snatch it and press it to my cheek, hoping to keep her warm.

Her eyes bore into me, flaring to life, but I can feel how close to death she is. It’s confusing and disturbing. Her awareness squeezes my gut. Those teal eyes glisten with amusement.

“Where? Where do you think you’re going, baby girl?” I’m breaking and shattering. I can’t fucking breathe. My fingertips dig into her chin, forcing her to hold her head up to meet my gaze. She smiles. The upturn in the corners of her mouth are so faint that it’s hardly recognizable.

“To Hell,” she says simply, and her eyes roll back into her head.

“Ashland. Ashland! Fuck, baby girl. Just, fuck , Ashland! Please,” I sob, tapping her cheek as if it will wake her up. Sirens explode in the distance.

I press my forehead to hers. A million thoughts run through my mind. All of them are Ashland. Every single thing I never said. Every time she would give me that smug smile, or every time she said something sarcastic. How she spits the truth out without a care in the world. The way she smells. Not this bloody gunpowder laced blackberry scent, but the clean one with honey. How her teal eyes would widen when I first went inside of her, and the way they rolled into the back of her head when she came. When she would insult me, or when she would find me at a party. If she dies she’ll never bitch about societal flaws or give me the middle finger again. Every single thing we did together dies with her.

She might die. I might lose her.

I’ve been so goddamn stupid. A world without her in it is unbearable. A life without her isn’t worth living, and it took her fucking dying right in front of me to shove aside my pride and admit it. I love Ashland, and I was so fucking wrapped up in pretending to feel nothing, pretending that it wasn’t possible, trying to find a reason to hate her, that I never told her.

“Not without me!” My voice cracks, and I shake her. “Goddammit, Ashland! Do you fucking hear me? Not without me!” I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. “I love you! You don’t go without me!” I demand.

Everything is out of control. I hug her, tucking my face into her chest shaking with sobs. I know it’s pointless to do this. It doesn’t make someone live. She would laugh at me, tell me to have some dignity, and to stop embarrassing myself. In this moment, though, I just wish she fucking would.

So I pray. I’ve never prayed before, but I talk to God. I beg him to keep her here. Not to take her from me or send her to Hell. That sort of distance will be unbearable. I beg him to take me, my career, anything, instead. I apologize for every awful thing I’ve done in my life. I apologize for turning her away and being angry over something I never gave her a chance to explain. I tell him how I was wrong. She's the good in the world just like Penny. That she's Wrong in the best way. I vow to tell her that I love her. I vow that I’ll do right by her and never make her feel so fucking small ever again. I vow to give her everything I have and more if she just stays on this plane with me.

The sirens are background music to my pain. I hear the police shouting outside. I just keep praying. All I can do is hold her and sob into her hair as they burst through the door and rush in.

I look up at Alexi taking in the scene around us. I’ve never seen him look so calm. Behind him paramedics push their way through. One of them, a woman, crouches down and puts her fingers to Ashland’s neck before exchanging an anxious look with the man who is with her.

“Save her, please,” I beg. I try to keep my heart together. I try to keep it from shattering.

“We’ll try,” the woman says in a rush. I sit back as they swarm her, shouting terms I don’t know and hauling her onto what may end up being her death bed.

“Koda!” Alexi shouts, slapping me across the face. It pulls me out of my stupor. “Ashland needs you right now. Even if she dies.”

Even if she dies. Alexi has never been a bullshitter. It’s one thing I’ve always appreciated about him. It’s why he got along so well with Ashland.

“I’m not living without her.” It’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a very very long time.

Alexi looks directly into my eyes. There's only acceptance, understanding. “Then we’d better make sure she doesn’t die, because I don’t think I’ll end up in Hell, and Heaven doesn’t sound as fun without you guys.”

My brother. My best friend. I love that stupid fucker. He’s right. I need to go with her. I tear through the house out onto the lawn and catch up to her. I’ll stew in my regret and self-hatred later. As they load her into the ambulance, the man tries to shut me out of the back, but the woman gives him a stern look.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Alexi promises, slamming the doors shut.

“Do you know her blood type, honey?” The woman asks with urgency.

“No.” Her heartbeat is so faint and fading that I start to think of all of the ways I'll follow her to the grave. I love her, and I never told her.

“Any drugs in her system?” The woman shouts at me.

“No, she hates them,” I whisper. I can’t bring myself to speak any louder.

I make myself as small as I can while they use the defibrillator. It takes two jumps to get her heart restarted, but it’s still weak. I hold her hand in mine, rolling it over so her palm faces up. Then I trail my fingers along the lines, remembering a time where she decided she would read mine. It’s all I have. It’s the only thing I can do.

We screech to a stop, and the back doors fling open. A group of emergency room personnel rush us, and they surround her, screaming more things I don’t understand. I chase after them, but a nurse stops me before I make it through the double doors.

“You can’t go back there, sweetie. They’ll come out and let you know how she’s doing after they alert the family.” I try to brush past, but the woman catches me. “You can’t go past this point. The doctor will come and speak with you when he can.”

“I…” I try to find words. I try to figure out what to say that will make her let me back there, even though I know it won’t change anything. “She doesn’t have any family.” I don't even know if that's true.

She sizes me up. “I’m sure you love her very much.” The nurse pats my arm. “Do you know who we can contact for her?”

Alexi rushes in behind me and stations himself at my side.

“Her name,” I clench my teeth, “Is Ashland, and it’s me. You contact me.”

“And who are you?” she asks.

“I’m…I’m... I’m the person. I’m her person. Koda Armory.”

“Okay, sweetie.” She hands me the clipboard and starts to give me instructions, but I don’t hear any of them.

Alexi slowly pulls it from my hands and nods along, asking her questions. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have him. I would be a puddle on the floor. The nurse gives my arm a squeeze and walks back behind the counter without any false promises. I make it into a chair somehow. Alexi poises the pen over the paper before calmly setting the clipboard on the table next to him.

Threading his fingers together he looks at me. “Koda,” he says in an even tone.

“What?” I whisper, staring at the floor.

“You need to get it together, and we need someone to fill out these forms.”

I snatch the clipboard from the table next to him. “I can fill them out.”

The longer I look at the pages asking for her medical history, the more I realize I don’t know about her. All I can do is write her name, birthday, and me as the point of contact. I don’t know anything else. I chuck it at the wall and yank at my hair.

The despair returns. “What if she dies, Alexi?”

His face hardens, and he looks away. Alexi knows as well as I do that Ash is hanging on to life by a thread, if she even made it to the back.

“The longer it takes, the longer she’s alive,” he says softly.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” I knock my fist against my forehead.

“We’re all aware,” he tries to joke, but it falls flat. “In the meantime, we need to call Penny. She needs to help us fill this out, and she needs to move up her flight. My phone is dead, but I have Ashland’s.”

Penny. Take care of Penny.

Alexi digs it out of his pocket. “Do you know her passcode?”

I take it from him. I want to hold onto it forever and put it in a glass case like a psycho, but that won’t do any good. I bite my cheek and stare at her wallpaper. It’s a picture of us that I haven’t seen before. It’s from when we watched the stupid Barbie movies. Penny must have taken this one. There’s a text banner, like this was sent to her on some app, and it says ‘Koda’s horny for the Nutcracker’. Our backs are to the camera. Ashland is lying on her stomach with me next to her. My hand is in the air, clearly in discussion, and her finger is to my lips telling me to shut the fuck up.

I want to scream and punch someone. I hold it up in front of my face and it unlocks. Alexi doesn’t question me.

“Which one do you think is Penny?” he mumbles.

“Cunt,” I answer effortlessly, tracing Ashland’s name on the page of the clipboard for the third time. The phone rings as a video call. Wonderful.

“Wassup, Cu-Alexi? Why are you calling me from Ashland’s phone? What’s wrong?” I hear the immediate panic in her voice. I snatch the phone away. He’s going to drag this out, and it’s going to send Penny into cardiac arrest.

I’m seeing myself for the first time on the screen. Blood covers my arms and my chest. It’s all over my face and stains my hair, which is beyond disheveled.

“Is…Is that blood?” her eyes widen.

“We found Ashland in the house. She was attacked. They’re trying to re…” My chest clenches. “They’re trying to save her life.”

She sets the phone down, grabbing things frantically.

“Penny,” I bark. She stops and looks at me with terror. “We’re at the University Hospital. I’m booking you the next flight now. Alexi is going to wait for you at the airport.” Penny wants to protest, but she nods. If Ashland’s dying wish is to keep Penny safe, I’m going to make fucking sure it happens.

I hand my phone over to Alexi, who rushes out. There's no one for me to call anyways. It feels like every second that passes is a lifetime. So I go through Ashland’s phone, even though going through her shit is what landed us here. There are a few pictures of us, but not many. Ashland never liked photos. There are plenty of her with Penny, though. It looks like they have some sort of shared album. Most of them are stupid pictures that it looks like they sent back and forth. I study every single one. I’m mid-scroll when Penny and Alexi rush in.

Penny’s face is red, but she’s not crying anymore. She sits next to me, taking the clipboard from my lap. Then she pulls out her phone and dials someone, putting it to her ear. She inhales and holds her breath.

“Sin…” Her bottom lip quivers and tears threaten to spill over her bottom lashes. “Sinclair,” she says forcefully. She pauses, and with another deep breath she begins to cry, tears streaking her face as she tries to hold back.

“Yinny is in the hospital,” her voice wobbles. “She was shot…I don’t know…I don’t know…No, I haven’t.” She starts to squeak as she talks. “I just got here…They won’t talk to us because we aren’t family.”

I can almost hear rage emanating from whoever is on the other line. Their shouts erupt through the phone, but Penny doesn’t flinch. She takes a tissue from Alexi and wipes her eyes, trying to compose herself.

“Uh huh…Okay…Okay…I will.”

Whoever it it hangs up and Penny curls her knees to her chest sobbing into her legs with her phone dangling from her hand. Alexi wraps his arm around her, but it’s like he isn’t even there. I’m not even sure that I’m here. I might not show it on the outside, but on the inside I’m just the eight-year-old boy hiding alone in the closet. I love Ashland, but I have nothing on Penny.

I’ve always known that Penny and Ashland are close. They make it known to man that nothing can touch their friendship, but it’s deeper than anything I’ve witnessed before. It’s like at the core of their beings they’re sewn together, and if Ashland dies it will be like cutting Penny open and splitting her insides. I know that’s how I feel.

“What happened?” she whispers.

It’s now that I have to be honest. Even Alexi doesn’t know what it was that made me leave her, and I’m going to have to admit it all to her best friend.

“We were painting her room,” I say quietly. “I told her that I didn’t know how I would ever get over her. I think she was upset, but I didn’t want to push her, so I went back to the room to move some shelves, and I saw that Alaska book.”

“Her favorite,” Penny breathes.

“Yeah. Inside of it was a letter addressed to ‘Yinny’ so-”

Penny sits up violently. “What?”

“A letter in the book.”

“Addressed to ‘Yinny’?”

“Yes, but you didn’t let me finish. I opened it because I’m a piece of shit, and it was from Damien.”

If anyone is going to know who Damien is then it'll be Penny. In all of this I forgot Ash is fucking married, but I can’t even be mad about it now. I guess we should call him.

Penny starts to shake, her entire body is convulsing. “Damien?” She says the name in a breath. I almost believe I dreamed it.

“Yeah, Damien.”

She fumbles for her phone and shaky fingers tap furiously until she’s calling someone. Penny darts out of her seat heading for a corner and she starts to whisper, quickly conveying the story I didn’t even finish. Her face is animated as she talks. Fear is seared onto her features, as if it’s going to be a permanent accessory. When she returns, she sinks into her seat looking defeated.

“What did the letter say?”

I glance at Alexi. This is private, but Alexi is my brother and my best friend. He might be a gossip, but not about things like this. He’s not judgmental either; not like me. He got the best qualities from our mom.

“It said that he misses her. That she broke their vows, but he loves her anyways. Til death do them part, but death is endless. That he’s her husband, and he'll see her soon”

If Alexi is shocked he doesn’t show it. He keeps a placid look on his face, but his skin is pale.

“So then we argued, and I left,” I continue. “She called me and left a voicemail, and that was when I heard her…I heard the…I heard. So we went to the house and found her.”

“Was it him? Was it Damien?”

“I don’t know. I was focused on Ashland.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Alexi says. “They didn’t have a face anymore.”

I haven’t really thought about who the intruder was. My mind has been in a dissociative state, only making room for Ashland. Someone else was there, though. At least one other person was involved, and they’re dead, presumably by Ashland’s hands. I’m fucking glad. They deserve it.

Penny shoves her face into her hands. “I wasn’t here,” she sobs quietly. “I wasn’t there. I took that stupid internship, and I wasn’t here.”

I clear my throat. “Ashland wanted you to be there.”

“You don’t understand,” she says fiercely. “You don’t understand her.”

It stings in a way that it shouldn’t, but it’s true. I can’t possibly know her in the way Penny does. The most I’ve ever gotten out of her is that she’s from an undetermined state in the South, that her art is fucked up, and that she hates society. That she screams in her sleep, and that she hurts. I don’t even know how she met Penny.

“Then tell me about her,” I whisper.

She looks up at me with wide red-rimmed eyes. “She’s mean.”

I choke on a laugh. Hearing Penny say anything negative about Ashland blows my mind, but to call her mean is an gross understatement.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Penny says, sitting up straighter. “So fucking mean. You were right, ya know? She’s abrasive. So fucking abrasive that it makes you want to hit her right in her stupid fucking nose. Such a bitch. When someone is that broody it makes you want to write shitty poetry about your middle school ex-boyfriend and drown yourself in kool-aid. And she talks so much shit. She acts like she hates everything, and in her weird fucking way that’s her being nice. Nice. She’ll pick at you and tear you down. That’s her being nice .”

“Not what I expected,” Alexi mutters under his breath.

“And it’s all so worth it,” Penny says sadly. “So fucking worth it.”

“It is,” I nod.

“The first time I met Ashland I hated her. Almost everyone does." She glances at Alexi. "Except for you, I guess."

I laugh, actually laugh. It’s strained and full of pain. It sort of feels like we’re at a wake, but it’s welcome. I want to hear about Ashland. Know about her. She asked me to take care of Penny. I’m not good at reading people, but it seems like she has so much she needs to say.

“She was the fakest person I had ever met, and she wore it so well.”

“Fake?” I’m fucking startled. That’s not the girl I know at all.

“Self-preservation does things to a person,” she snorts. “But it only took me one second to see it. Fake can see straight through fake. It’s how you stay alive. Pretend you love being fake and you'll get to live another day. She was so pretty. Not like me. She didn't have to work for it. I was jealous of the way Damien looked at her.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about, but the way Penny says his name is like nails on a chalkboard and the feel of sandpaper on my skin. It gives me the same creepy feelings I got when I looked at Ashland’s sketches. Dark and wrong.

“I was so scared and so innocent, and she was intimidating. Out of all of the girls she was scary, but you have to be when you’re beside someone like him. I thought she liked it. I thought it was different for her, but I was wrong. I learned that I was wrong so quickly that I got whiplash. She's the personification of whiplash.”

“She was married to him,” I say.

It’s burning me alive even hearing that she was so involved. If she was married it makes sense why she didn’t ‘date’ the guy who wrote her an album. Why they never held hands. She was so unwilling to talk about it, and now I see why.

“That’s what he believes,” Penny sniffles. “Doesn’t really matter if there’s a piece of paper or not. That shit is forged all of the time. It’s about what you believe, and Damien believed whatever he wanted. If he said they were married, in his mind, they were married.”

There’s a frost crawling across my skin, freezing me to death and squeezing my insides. Something is terribly fucking wrong with this entire story.

“Now I know that you don’t want someone like Damien looking at you the way he looked at her. You want them to never see you in the first place.”

“Fuck.” I shove my head in my hands. It wasn’t an explanation, but it’s enough of one to drive me to hate myself. “And I didn’t even give her a chance to explain.”

“I don’t blame you, Koda. I doubt she does either. It’s not like she really would've told you. A letter like that from someone like him would sound really really bad if you were in her position, and she has no way to defend it without peeling her skin off of her bones. She’d rather die.”

The way she says it is callous, as if that’s not what’s happening somewhere in this hospital. I want to think Ashland would have somehow told me it wasn’t true, but…she did. Evil. It peels your skin from your bones, picks apart your soul, and tells you that you’re all the more beautiful for it. That was what she had said before I left. I didn’t understand. How could I? If Penny hadn’t been the one telling me this, then I probably wouldn’t believe it. That’s the problem with being analytical and a person of fact with a short fuse. Ash wouldn’t have explained it either way. Not enough.

“Sometime soon a man named Jeremy is going to come through that door. You need to go through the stages of grief now, because if Ashland lives, you won’t see her ever again.”

My stomach bottoms out.

Alexi fidgets. “What are you talking about?"

Penny sighs, like a tired grim reaper delivering the news that you’re about to die. “I’m talking about Witness Security, Lex. Ashland is in Witness Protection because of Damien.”