Page 39 of Twisted Thorns

"Because 'always' doesn't apply anymore." My words are sharp, a shard of glass glinting in the sunlight. "I'm done pleasing everyone at the cost of losing myself."

"Are you saying you don't need us?" Her question slices through the air, leaving a trail of bitter accusation.

"Maybe I'm saying we shouldn't be friends anymore if this is how it's going to be," I admit, the admission tasting like acid on my tongue. Even as I say it, I feel the finality of it, a chapter closing in the story of who I once was.

A leaf quivers as it tumbles down from an overhanging branch, landing silently onto the path where our shadows mingle in disarray. The tension between Amanda and me hangs heavy, a thick fog that refuses to lift, even as Claire steps in, her voice a soothing balm in the aftermath of our bitter exchange.

"Look, Amanda," she begins, her tone steady yet imploring, "Avalina's been through a lot. After the accident, after all those memories slipped away from her grasp, she's not... She's not who she used to be."

I watch Claire’s careful gaze shift towards me, full of understanding, her eyes soft like dew clinging to the petals of the late-blooming roses.

"And that's okay," Claire continues, her words wrapping around us like a shawl against the chill of conflict. "We should be here for her, supporting her journey to rediscover herself, not forcing her into the mold of who she was before."

Claire's plea hangs between us, and I can feel the sincerity of her intentions radiating like the warmth of the sun. Her hand finds mine, squeezing gently, grounding me.

"Can't you see?" Claire says, turning back to Amanda, "She doesn't need to fit into our expectations. She needs to find out who she is on her own terms."

The pressure in my chest loosens slightly, but the embers of defiance still smolder within. I lift my chin, feeling the resolve harden around my heart like armor forged from newfound self-assurance.

"Amanda," I interject, my voice unwavering, "you're trying to stuff me back into a box—a box splintered by the crash, one where the corners no longer align with who I am now."

My fingers brush against the rough bark of a nearby oak, its gnarled surface mirroring the complexity of my thoughts.

"I don't desire the life I had before," I assert, the taste of truth rich on my tongue. "I yearn to explore this new existence—messy, uncharted, and raw. Maybe it terrifies you because you want the old Avalina, the one who danced to your whims. But she's gone, dissolved like mist at dawn."

The air shifts, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the undercurrent of change. I stand firm, the remnants of my past scattering with the fallen leaves around us, making room for the blossoms of who I'm becoming.

The silence stretches between us, a chasm filled with the weight of words unsaid. Amanda's breath hitches, a soft sound almost lost to the rustling leaves around us. Her gaze flickers to mine, hesitant and searching, as if she's looking for the Avalina she once knew in the depths of my green eyes.

"Look, Avalina..." she begins, her voice lower, the sharp edge of earlier confrontations softened into something more pliable—regret, perhaps. "I—I'm sorry."

The words hang there, simple, yet charged with the potential for change. I watch, motionless, as Amanda struggles to find her footing on this new ground we've stumbled upon, her usual confidence wavering like a flame in the autumn breeze.

"Sorry for what?" My question isn't meant to be cruel, but it is necessary. I need to understand—to hear her acknowledge the shift in our tenuous bond.

"For trying to force you back into... into who you were before," she admits, and her voice cracks ever so slightly, revealing the vulnerability she often keeps shielded behind bravado. "It's just hard, you know? To see you change and not know where I fit into your life anymore."

A pang of empathy surges within me, warming the chill that had settled around my heart. I realize then that change doesn't only alter the person it happens to; its ripples touch everyone in their orbit.

"You don't have to fit into my life, Amanda," I respond, choosing my words with care, desiring reconciliation over resentment. "We can find a new way to be friends—if that's what you want."

"I do, Avalina, I really do." The sincerity in her eyes is the balm to the scrapes left by our quarrel. "I just miss you, that's all."

"Then let's start anew," I offer, extending my hand towards her. It's an invitation, a truce, a bridge over the troubled waters of our past disagreements.

Her fingers entwine with mine, warm and firm, and something inside me unfurls—a hope that maybe, just maybe, we can navigate this complex journey of rediscovery together.

Chapter 20

Kieran

Glancing at the clock, I step into the shower, feeling the warm water cascade over my skin. I had promised Avalina dinner tonight, and while she wouldn't mind if it wasn't ready when she arrived, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. As the steam enveloped me, I let go of the tension that had been building up throughout the day.

Sean is up to no good, I know it. As far as Finn can tell, Sean has no idea that we were behind freeing the people we found in the warehouse that night, and now he is on high alert, trying to smoke out whoever betrayed him. As long as Finn and Slone have intel that keeps us a step ahead of Sean, we should be good, but I still won’t feel easy until he’s longer an issue.

Grabbing a towel as I step out of the shower, I dry off my damp skin as I walk to my closet. Taking a quick look at my options, I choose a pair of dark jeans and a navy sweater, trying to hop into the jeans as I walk down the hall.

Once I step into the kitchen, muscle memory takes over as I effortlessly set the pot of water to boil and deftly slice the garlic and onions. I cut quickly, the feel of flesh giving way under my blade a familiar comfort.

---