Page 163 of Ruthless Savage

I haven’t been honest with you since we met. I’ve been lying. Carrying too many secrets I’ve been forced to keep by my mother. Every time you talk about her, I want to scream. Or slam a fist into the wall and imagine it’s her face. Because she’s the reason I’m hurting you without you even knowing.

But see, I consider you my friend, no matter what she thinks. I’d do anything for you, even when she tells me what a weak, pathetic girl I am for letting you into my heart. But how can I not? You’re an amazing person, Eriu. Even she has to see that.

I’m sure you’re confused. Or maybe not. Maybe you somehow discovered my deception and are sitting there crying while reading this letter thinking what a terrible person I am.

And I won’t dispute that. I am a terrible person. If I was a good person, I’d have told you the truth a long time ago. But I’m a coward. Yep, me. A coward.

If I was brave, I’d have told you what my mother makes me do. How much she hates Devlin and is using you to hurt him. I’d never let her do anything to you, though. I swear. But she has so many people behind her, and my word has always meant very little. You know her as Professor Montgomery, but I call her Mom. Or Satan. She responds to either.

Before I met you, I had no friends. I mean, the people at school don’t know me. Not really, not the way you do.

I know you’re probably thinking, “I don’t know you either.” But you do, Eriu. With you, I am myself, more than I have ever been, and I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you and I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve done things differently. But I was afraid. And now I’ve lost the one person who mattered to me most.

Please forgive me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s the one thing that would mean the world to me.

Maybe not today or tomorrow. But someday I hope you can look back on our friendship and realize everything I’ve said here is true.

Love,

Karen

As I clutch the letter against my chest, a sob wrenches out of me, cracking through my bones, sinking into my marrow.

I’ll never get to see her again. Tell her that I understand. This is all I’ll have of her: a ghost of what was. And no amount of wishing will ever bring her back again.

ONE WEEK LATER

Thorny vines pierce my skin. Deep red roses were her favorite. Devlin spared no expense to ensure Karen got the kind of burial she deserved. I place the flowers by her headstone and sit across the grass to face it.

Karen Lucia Palmer

The school didn’t have her real last name. Her mother made sure it was forged on the paperwork, so it’s why Devlin never caught on.

This is the first time I’ve come to visit her. The first time I’ve truly felt ready to say goodbye. To say I’m sorry. That I forgive her.

And I do forgive her now.

With time and therapy, I’ve come to accept that she was two different people, yet still somehow the Karen I loved.

She begged her mother not to kill me. She didn’t want me to die. That means something.

I no longer hold any hate toward her. And that in itself is freeing.

I keep her journal with me, and the photo of us that she had in her room is now in the foyer of the apartment I share with Devlin.

I decided to donate her clothes to Helping Hand so that they could be passed on to those who might need them. Karen would’ve loved that.

“School isn’t the same without you,” I tell her, playing with the sleeve of my sweater. “I miss you so much. Every time I go to lunch, I see you sitting across from me, checking out the boys from the swim team.” I choke up a teary laugh. “I wish you were here. I wish I could just hug you one more time.” Tears lie trapped in my lower lashes. “I’m sorry for everything you had to live with. I know it wasn’t easy to deal with your mom. Please know I forgive you. And I will never forget you.”

I stay there telling her about my classes, about the editing internship I recently got with a publishing house in the city. I know she’d be proud of me. I can feel it.

Life is just unfair sometimes.

Wiping under my eyes, I start toward Devlin, who waits patiently a few feet away.

“You ready to go?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I look up at my husband and smile, grabbing his hand and bringing his knuckles to my mouth. “I think I am.”

---