Chapter 6

The next thing I remembered was waking up screaming in Kay's bed. A fit of horror overtook my naked form as I thrashed in a panicked frenzy.

I turned and vomited into the trashcan beside the bed.

Kay's icy hands rubbed my back and offered me water. Washing away the bile seemed to be Kay's cue as she leaned in and pressed flesh to flesh and lips to lips.

"I'll take away your pain," she cooed. And for the third day in a row, a drunken pleasure--a hedonistic party--waged between my thighs from sunrise to sunset.

Only with the light of the fourth day did the tremblings subside and lucidity begin to return. A frail-looking arm dangled over my chest. Occasionally, the vulture's claw would squeeze my breast and elicit a moan from my lips. Feeling guilty from over seventy-two hours of selfish pleasure, I made my way between her thighs without awakening her.

Before the end came, however, Kay's eyes flew up and she erupted. It wasn't until the afterglow faded that she asked why I’d done it.

"You've taken care of me during all of this. It was the least I could do."

She kissed up my neck to my lips. "Let's take a shower." My focus wavered from the water as I kept checking the temperature. My gaze landed on Kay's hamper. A lacey set of panties stuck out and caused me to blush. I moved to push them down and a glimpse of red teased my curiosity. Picking up the garment, my hands ran cold and I dropped it like it was burning coals.

A blood-stained uniform splayed out across the bathroom floor. Hearing the pitter-patter of footsteps, I shoved it into the hamper, burying it deep. I pulled my arms out just in time for an ominous being to enter the room. Shaking my head, I offered her the best smile I could.

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"Let's get in. I'll wash you," Kay insists, her gaze lingering on the hamper.

Despite a million evil scenarios running through my mind, Kay is able to get me off twice before the water turns cold, while also washing me and my hair, but my mind is a million miles away.

Why did Kay have a bloodied uniform? Should I ask? There has to be a reasonable answer. Surely she can’t be responsible...

I try to escape before I’m even dry again. "I need to go home." I know she wants to come with me, and I try to placate her by telling her she can walk me home.

My breath was ragged and I tried to stay a step ahead of Kay, but she held my arm tight. My parents rushed out of the house and smothered me in an embrace while shoving Kay away from me. That shadow fell over her face yet again and the bloodied uniform flashed through my mind.

My parents don't let her come in, hardly looking at her, as they slam the door behind us. They insisted on getting me to see a therapist, telling me the police wanted to interview me again. A few days later, after so many appointments and interviews, I was still struggling with the idea of telling my parents or the police about Kay’s bloodied uniform. Every time I saw her, even when she was offering sympathy, I couldn’t ignore the joy in her eyes. But she was just a high school girl, like me - she couldn’t possibly have been responsible for Mimi and her family’s deaths.

Kay catches me eating alone on the roof and nuzzles into the crook of my neck. "Can you come over today? I want to make you feel good."

"Kay, I'm trying to eat. What are you doing here?"

Her smile drops. "Why are you being hateful? I'm just trying to help you."

My fork stops midair just before my mouth. A palpable tension floats between us. "I came up here to be alone, Kay. I'm sorry I haven't given you much attention recently, but if you're really concerned about me, then please give me space."

I sense her presence disappear. A voice whispers on the wind followed by the metal door slamming closed.

"Be careful not to get pushed off again."