She’s on the ground still screaming, still clawing her eyes. It looks as though she has managed what she’d set out to do though. Her face is a mass of blood, and I could see ragged shreds of skin and flesh, but I could no longer see her eyes.
Chapter 1
Now
Kat
I stare at my laptop blankly as I wait for motivation to strike. I’m too preoccupied and can’t seem to focus. Frustrated, I take a sip of my latte and am doubly annoyed to realize it’s now room temperature, proof of the void I tend to enter without inspiration.
I know more about my own hometown than any other destination I’ve blogged about, but I can’t seem to say anything nice about it nonetheless. Beautiful? Yes.
Historic? You betcha. Small town as fuck? Unfortunately.
I remind myself I left and haven’t come back before now for a reason. Too many bad memories, too many judgemental glares. But it’s been a full decade. Surely no one will even remember.
“Kat? Kat Clary?” A silky voice interrupts my neurosis.
I look up and feast my eyes on gorgeous mocha skin. As smooth as the last time I saw her in person. I follow her on social media, of course, but it’s now clear that no filters are necessary for her.
“Kayla!” I cry as I jump to my feet. We bear hug and I feel myself tear up as we make contact.
She holds my shoulders at arms length and stares at me, looking deep into my eyes. “You are as beautiful as ever,” she says with a grin, her perfect white teeth shining against the hotel lobby lighting.
“You’re one to talk,” I laugh, giving her exaggerated elevator eyes. “Look at you.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, sitting down at the little table across from me. I follow suit and shake my head at her in awe, unable to look away.
“I can’t either,” I admit. “I’m a little shocked you’re here too. I think you left almost as fast as I did back then.”
“I almost didn’t come,” she shrugged with a sigh. “My girlfriend wanted to see where I came from, so here we are. May as well come back for the reunion and just really jump right back in.”
“I wasn’t going to come, but my readers are frequently asking about my hometown, and then the hotel sweetened the deal,” I say, gesturing at the grand Inn that’s housing us and the reunion.
The Bishop Inn had recently been renovated and is trying to re-bill themselves as a historic 4 star hotel. What better way than to lure a respectable travel blogger back to town to help do so? Either they didn’t care about my past in Bishop, Massachusetts or they didn’t know. I’m hoping it’s the former.
“Are they putting you up?” Kayla asks, crossing her slim legs, outfitted impeccably in beautifully cut, canary-yellow trousers.
“They are,” I smile. “The suite with a full spa package, room service—the works.”
“Aha,” she says. “That arrangement certainly would have made my decision easier too.”
“Good old Bishop and a free mini bar? I have arrived,” I joke.
“Have you seen anyone yet?” Kayla asks as she smoothes back her hair. It’s unspoken, but we both know the weight behind that question.
“Nope,” I tell her. “I have no idea who will be here.”
“I ran into Erik,” she says far too casually as she taps her manicured nails on the formica table, making satisfying clacks with every drum. Her nails are immaculate and tasteful, just like her.
I stiffen and immediately butterflies flood my stomach. My stage fright has been elevated tenfold just at the mention of his name. “He flew in?”
“He still lives here,” Kayla says as she raises her perfectly shaped brows, clearly surprised, as am I. “Same house.”
“Wow…” I mumble.
“Did you guys not keep in touch at all?” Kayla asks, looking a bit astounded. Why wouldn’t she be? We were on track to be one of those sweet-as-pie couples who meet as kids and beat the odds to marry, have babies and then die five minutes apart while holding hands as an elderly power couple.
“No, after everything…” I break off and look down. “I moved and that was it. I’ve looked him up online but he seems to have no social media presence and so I have no ability to stalk or keep in touch with him.” Not that I would have dared contact him.
“Well, he asked about you,” Kayla says with a knowing twinkle in her eye. “He was quite disappointed that I didn’t know for sure if you’d be here or not.”
My mouth dropped open slightly as I attempted to dissect that piece of information. I’d had no clue how he regarded me these days, or if he regarded me at all, for that matter.
“I told him about you,” Kayla went on. “About your success and he seemed quite proud.”
I smile and sit back, enjoying a boost of much needed confidence, knowing it is but a drop in the bucket of what will be needed to psyche myself up for the actual reunion. “Thank you for that.”
“There was a little anxiety there, I see. I’m glad I was able to help. If your nerves are as shot as mine, any comfort is helpful,” Kayla says, patting the table as she stands up. “Unfortunately, I was just passing through on my way to leave for a day trip to Boston. I cannot wait to see you again tomorrow night for the reunion. Built-in reinforcements and the clique back together again.”
“See you then, you goddess,” I smile, which she returns in kind before sauntering off, her Laboutins clicking through the posh lobby as every man turns to take in her toned bottom swaying appealingly.
From what I gather through our limited interactions online, she has landed as a senior editor at a lifestyle magazine and is doing very well for herself. We
