Page 51 of Something So Strong

I had to kiss him. There’s nothing in my life I’ve wanted more. I’d even live all those years of loneliness on my family’s estate over again to re-experience those five seconds one more time…

I flop my arm out from beneath the covers and grab my phone.

3:38 am. I’ve been stewing for hours.

What the fuck is his last name? I ask myself as I tap open Facebook.

Pure exhaustion mixed with an overactive mind is a strange thing. I know I’m awake—my brain is hyper-focused on minute things, but at the same time, I don’t really know what I’m doing. So my monkey brain has to take over the arbitrary function of making my opposable thumbs move because staring at the brightness of my phone’s screen is short-circuiting all my wiring.

Thankfully though, deep in the pinkish-gray folds inside my skull, there’s enough rehearsed memory to navigate me to the ‘Vistas Staff’ Facebook page. Nevertheless, there is no Kai in sight.

There is a Cleo, though. But—like she’s kicking me in the balls—the search function on her friend’s list is disabled.

Seriously?

Who the fuck has over five-hundred friends, anyway?

This bitch, apparently.

I don’t even want to think about how long I’ve been scrolling through this index of strangers for—

Kai!

There’s only one. And I don’t feel guilty for even a second for how quickly I click on his profile.

Kai Tremblay… Fuck you!

I force my head back into my pillow in resentment. Because—private and with a plain black background—his page is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.

Growling, I enlarge his profile picture because it’s the only thing I can access, but find myself blinking at what I see.

It’s old. Seven years ago, old. Yet I can see in an instant it’s Kai, cause no one else in the entire world looks like him. But his hair isn’t blue—or even blond. It’s dark brown and shaved short. He’s tall, skinny, tattoo-free, and has two girls on either side of him, hugging them like he’s trying to prove to whoever sees the picture that he’s important.

I zoom in on his face and the brazen smile, not dissimilar to the one I’m acquainted with, but even through the blurry pixelation, I can see a discernible sadness in his eyes. Like his image is still in the rehearsal phases or… whatever is bringing him down is still too fresh?

It’s not the Kai I know. But I’d like to.

If I could understand what makes this old picture so somber, then maybe I can—

There’s a loud crash and I sit straight up in bed.

It could be Kai… But probably not. There are eighteen other rooms on this floor.

There it is again!

But different. Like a nightstand being kicked over and everything on it crashing to the floor. Then… a blood-curdling wail. Guttural. Deep. One hundred percent Kai.

Tossing off my duvet, I’m at my door a second later, and just as I throw it open, Kai’s voice ricochets down the corridor. “No! Stop!”

“Kai?!” I call out, knocking on his door. “Are you alright?”

Nothing but unmitigated stillness is my answer.

I try his door handle, but it’s locked. Like it should be.

Still, the silence drags on as though it were a hallucination that compelled me to burst from my room in my underwear.

Maybe this is a dream?

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