Face-Off at the Altar
Page 108
“No,” she said, her lip quivering, her pain eating her alive. “I can’t. You stay, I’ll go wait in the car.”
He shook his head. “No, come on,” he said, and then he turned with her as Avery’s eyes widened in apprehension and confusion.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Mekena said as she passed them, and Avery squeezed her hand.
“I’ll call you.”
She nodded a thanks as she passed by, her face in Markus’s chest as they walked by the group of people there to mourn her sister. She felt everyone staring at her, she was pretty sure her mother had called her name, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of there.
Before the nothingness ate her alive.
Staring at the spot on the wall where her favorite picture of her and Markus hung, Mekena let out a deep breath as she could feel her heart ache. It was three in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. It had been that way since Skylar passed. Every time she fell asleep, she saw Skylar, reaching out for her, asking her to help. But Mekena couldn’t catch her, couldn’t help her, and then she appeared as she did in that hospital bed. Bruised, broken, and unrecognizable. The druggie that had killed her sister.
Her beautiful, vibrant sister.
Closing her eyes firmly, she begged for sleep, but it never came. Each time she opened her eyes, the time taunted her. The little red numbers on the clock moving so slowly to change. Beside her, Markus slept, and she was thankful for that. Thankful for the silence. He was a godsend, he was, but he was suffocating her just like everyone else. Avery was texting every hour, it seemed. Her mother was a mess and reaching out for support, but Mekena just couldn’t give it. She was drowning in her own feelings. She even had Markus’s family reaching out, and she couldn’t even handle them. She needed to deal with her feelings. She needed to find her footing, but it was hard when he was right up underneath her asking if she was okay and needed anything.
She wasn’t okay. She wanted her sister back.
Not the drug addict, but her sister. The one she used to talk about boys with. The one who taught her how to be a girl and who was the person Mekena wished she could be. She had wished, prayed even, to have long legs like Skylar, to be able to dance like her, to be as beautiful as she was, but it never happened. Instead, she watched her sister get any guy she wanted and sleep around for fun. The latter part wasn’t Mekena’s cup of tea, but it was freeing to think that she could do that.
Though, she couldn’t—nor would she.
It wasn’t who Mekena was, but it was who Skylar was. And instead of judging her for it, she loved her older sister. But then Skylar changed. She turned into this person who was sleeping with different guys all the time. Who really didn’t care about dance or school, only about fucking around and, Mekena guessed, getting high.
She wasn’t sure what happened, but her sister just changed. Was it because Mekena was so consumed by Markus that she didn’t have time for Skylar anymore? Didn’t need her? Started ignoring her calls because she was with him? Was it her fault? Because her sister broke her heart by going after the man Mekena loved. Who did that but sick people who needed help? Maybe that was her cry for help. Rather than pushing her away, why didn’t Mekena talk it out, figure out what Skylar was thinking? Why did she just run and turn her back on everyone? She had a duty as a sister to be there, and instead, she fled and then ignored her sister when she learned the truth.
As Mekena’s lips quivered, her tears started to fall before she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, letting out a sob that shook her soul. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Why was the world so cruel? Why couldn’t Skylar just tell her she was upset or that she needed her? Why did she have to hurt her? Why did she have to hurt Markus?
“Baby?”
Shaking her head, she rubbed her face as she swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes and hated how mad it made her that he asked that. Didn’t he know what was wrong? Didn’t he know she wasn’t fucking okay? Why was he asking such stupid questions? And why was she getting so mad? How did she not have control of her feelings? She felt like an old abandoned house, ready to crumble at a moments’ notice. The caution tape that used to surround her and that she thought she’d had torn away with Markus’s love had returned, and she wasn’t sure it was strong enough to hold her together anymore.
She was a fucking mess.
“Mekena?”
“What, Markus?” she snapped, and then she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t his fault. He was only concerned. He just loved her, she tried to remind herself.
“Baby,” he said, reaching out to cup her elbow, but she pushed his hand away.
“Not now.”
“Mekena, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to. I want to sit here and cry.”
“Okay,” he said, coming up behind her, spooning her, but she moved away.
“I don’t want to be touched. Please.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but she could hear his breathing coming out harder and feel his eyes locked on her. She couldn’t handle it, though. She needed to be alone to deal with what she was feeling. But what she was feeling was pure and absolutely torture. She had let Skylar down. She had failed her. Mekena was the reason she was dead. Sisters were supposed to be there for each other, and Mekena hadn’t been.
Instead, she was there for Markus.
She was completely engrossed in Markus and only cared about him while her sister essentially killed herself.
“Did I do something?”
Fuck. Sitting up, she threw her hands down against the bed as a sob ripped from her soul. “No, Markus, this isn’t about you. Fuck, it’s about me! You don’t know what I’m feeling, you don’t know this pain that is eating me alive! I’m fucking dying here.”
Sitting up, he watched her cautiously as he nodded, holding his hands out. “I understand that, which is why I’m asking if I can do something.”
“Can you bring her back?”
He shook his head sadly. “No.”
“Then there is nothing you can fucking do.”
“Let’s talk. What are you feeling?”
“I don’t want a fucking therapist right now, Markus. I want my sister back and alive and not on drugs. I want to go back to the moment she did what she did and reach out to her, try to see her reasoning and—”
He shook his head. “No, come on,” he said, and then he turned with her as Avery’s eyes widened in apprehension and confusion.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Mekena said as she passed them, and Avery squeezed her hand.
“I’ll call you.”
She nodded a thanks as she passed by, her face in Markus’s chest as they walked by the group of people there to mourn her sister. She felt everyone staring at her, she was pretty sure her mother had called her name, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of there.
Before the nothingness ate her alive.
Staring at the spot on the wall where her favorite picture of her and Markus hung, Mekena let out a deep breath as she could feel her heart ache. It was three in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. It had been that way since Skylar passed. Every time she fell asleep, she saw Skylar, reaching out for her, asking her to help. But Mekena couldn’t catch her, couldn’t help her, and then she appeared as she did in that hospital bed. Bruised, broken, and unrecognizable. The druggie that had killed her sister.
Her beautiful, vibrant sister.
Closing her eyes firmly, she begged for sleep, but it never came. Each time she opened her eyes, the time taunted her. The little red numbers on the clock moving so slowly to change. Beside her, Markus slept, and she was thankful for that. Thankful for the silence. He was a godsend, he was, but he was suffocating her just like everyone else. Avery was texting every hour, it seemed. Her mother was a mess and reaching out for support, but Mekena just couldn’t give it. She was drowning in her own feelings. She even had Markus’s family reaching out, and she couldn’t even handle them. She needed to deal with her feelings. She needed to find her footing, but it was hard when he was right up underneath her asking if she was okay and needed anything.
She wasn’t okay. She wanted her sister back.
Not the drug addict, but her sister. The one she used to talk about boys with. The one who taught her how to be a girl and who was the person Mekena wished she could be. She had wished, prayed even, to have long legs like Skylar, to be able to dance like her, to be as beautiful as she was, but it never happened. Instead, she watched her sister get any guy she wanted and sleep around for fun. The latter part wasn’t Mekena’s cup of tea, but it was freeing to think that she could do that.
Though, she couldn’t—nor would she.
It wasn’t who Mekena was, but it was who Skylar was. And instead of judging her for it, she loved her older sister. But then Skylar changed. She turned into this person who was sleeping with different guys all the time. Who really didn’t care about dance or school, only about fucking around and, Mekena guessed, getting high.
She wasn’t sure what happened, but her sister just changed. Was it because Mekena was so consumed by Markus that she didn’t have time for Skylar anymore? Didn’t need her? Started ignoring her calls because she was with him? Was it her fault? Because her sister broke her heart by going after the man Mekena loved. Who did that but sick people who needed help? Maybe that was her cry for help. Rather than pushing her away, why didn’t Mekena talk it out, figure out what Skylar was thinking? Why did she just run and turn her back on everyone? She had a duty as a sister to be there, and instead, she fled and then ignored her sister when she learned the truth.
As Mekena’s lips quivered, her tears started to fall before she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, letting out a sob that shook her soul. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Why was the world so cruel? Why couldn’t Skylar just tell her she was upset or that she needed her? Why did she have to hurt her? Why did she have to hurt Markus?
“Baby?”
Shaking her head, she rubbed her face as she swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes and hated how mad it made her that he asked that. Didn’t he know what was wrong? Didn’t he know she wasn’t fucking okay? Why was he asking such stupid questions? And why was she getting so mad? How did she not have control of her feelings? She felt like an old abandoned house, ready to crumble at a moments’ notice. The caution tape that used to surround her and that she thought she’d had torn away with Markus’s love had returned, and she wasn’t sure it was strong enough to hold her together anymore.
She was a fucking mess.
“Mekena?”
“What, Markus?” she snapped, and then she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t his fault. He was only concerned. He just loved her, she tried to remind herself.
“Baby,” he said, reaching out to cup her elbow, but she pushed his hand away.
“Not now.”
“Mekena, talk to me.”
“I don’t want to. I want to sit here and cry.”
“Okay,” he said, coming up behind her, spooning her, but she moved away.
“I don’t want to be touched. Please.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, but she could hear his breathing coming out harder and feel his eyes locked on her. She couldn’t handle it, though. She needed to be alone to deal with what she was feeling. But what she was feeling was pure and absolutely torture. She had let Skylar down. She had failed her. Mekena was the reason she was dead. Sisters were supposed to be there for each other, and Mekena hadn’t been.
Instead, she was there for Markus.
She was completely engrossed in Markus and only cared about him while her sister essentially killed herself.
“Did I do something?”
Fuck. Sitting up, she threw her hands down against the bed as a sob ripped from her soul. “No, Markus, this isn’t about you. Fuck, it’s about me! You don’t know what I’m feeling, you don’t know this pain that is eating me alive! I’m fucking dying here.”
Sitting up, he watched her cautiously as he nodded, holding his hands out. “I understand that, which is why I’m asking if I can do something.”
“Can you bring her back?”
He shook his head sadly. “No.”
“Then there is nothing you can fucking do.”
“Let’s talk. What are you feeling?”
“I don’t want a fucking therapist right now, Markus. I want my sister back and alive and not on drugs. I want to go back to the moment she did what she did and reach out to her, try to see her reasoning and—”
