Kyla was glad about the treadmill, it helped pass the time. She wasn’t accustomed to being cooped up and having nothing to do. Her life had been so hectic the past few years. Hectic all along, really.
While on the treadmill she let her mind wander back to her childhood a little bit. She had very few memories of her parents. They had been killed in a car accident when she was nearly 4 years old. After that she’d been bounced around from foster home to foster home, never feeling like anywhere was really home.
Some of those places had people who were abusive. She’d run away more than once to get away from bad situations. No one ever seemed to look out for her back then. Maybe that’s why it was so odd that Tristan wanted to look out for her now. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why she was clinging to him.
She’d run away and then get found and taken somewhere new. Always moving forward, always avoiding looking back.
One older teen foster brother had tried to molest her when she was 12 and when she fought him off during a scuffle that started as a tickle fight but ended after he groped her between the legs. Her bloodying his nose meant that his parents shipped her off as a troublemaker.
A foster father had tried, one night while drunk, to French kiss her and got very handsy. His wife walked in and didn’t believe her side of the story and she ran away before the social worker arrived to pick her up. She’d been found and taken to a group home.
A few of the places she’d been had been okay but they were the short-term ones. Some of those places had other kids that made her life miserable. Most of them were as screwed up as she was but some even more so, making living in a group home difficult, distrustful. You had to watch your back at all times.
She firmly believed that experiences shaped who you were and wondered how this experience would change her. It had already dramatically changed who she was. She was acting totally out of character.
She’d never really believed in anything paranormal. Not ghosts, not fairies, not even angels. Never felt like she had a guardian angel. Never had visions of her dead parents after they’d died. She’d prayed a few times in a tight jam but wasn’t really sure what to believe in. She’d never really believed in anything before, just survival, and the fact that she couldn’t count on anyone for much. Now she questioned everything, especially the fact that until now she’d always imagined being alone in life, keeping everyone at arm’s length.
Even wanting friends and family and a pet –-- sure she wanted it but had never really seen it in her mind’s eye. Now she could see someone else in her life. Tristan. But how realistic was it, really, given all the barriers that had already presented themselves?
It was getting late and Tristan hadn’t come back in yet. She was starting to feel rising anxiety about it, wondering when he’d be back. She flicked the TV on and climbed onto the couch and pulled a soft throw around herself, suddenly feeling a chill.
There was the sound of a key in the lock and doorknob suddenly turned and she sat up, ready to beam a smile at him. When the door opened, though, it wasn’t Tristan. It was Sam. Panic rose in her and her smile evaporated. She was sure the color must have drained from her face. Sam had a tray and a look of wariness in his eyes.
“Tristan asked me to bring you some food, love. He’s delayed,” he brought the tray to the coffee table and put it down. Her heart was beating wildly. She knew she was doing a terrible job of hiding her anxiety.
He put the tray down and looked at her for a beat and then made the peace sign with his index and middle finger, “Shh.” He mouthed this, reversing the peace sign and then motioning with his v’d fingers drawing a line with them from his eyes toward her and then back again. She felt very scrutinized and shifted uncomfortably but then Joe moved into the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms folded across his chest so she froze and stared at Sam. He winked and then turned on his heel and they left the room. She waited for about 5 seconds and then she let a breath out finally. Sam had to know, obviously, that she was lucid and clearly Joe was the enemy. She wished she could talk to Tristan to confirm it.
What was keeping him? She lifted the lid on the tray and there was a take-out container filled with chicken pad Thai, there were three bottles of water, and a sealed paper bag. She opened it cautiously. A gigantic chocolate fudge brownie wrapped with a red ribbon. She beamed at the brownie, thinking about their earlier conversation and his cooking talents. Then she felt sad for a second, remembering he’d tasted like chocolate fudge brownies just before she’d tried to leave him that night.