Page 69 of Blades of Obsession

What happened over the past few months?

“Amelia..” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

I step into the room. The air isn’t on, but I still feel a chill run down my spine. “Tell me everything that happened, Skye. Don’t leave anything out.”

We sink onto the bed together, the mattress creaking under our combined weight. This really is a shitty motel. As she settles into the worn, rough sheets, her shoulders slump, and she lets out a heavy sigh.

“I couldn’t stay. Not with everything that was going on,” she admits.

“But why didn’t you tell me that before you left? You were here one day and gone the next, and that text you sent... Every time I reached out and got no answer, it felt like another knife twisting into my gut. I lost my best friend.” My voice cracks at the end, but I can’t help it. I know we’d only known each other for half a year, and had some rocky moments, but I thought the connection we shared meant something.

“I needed to figure things out on my own.”

“We were supposed to be best friends, like sisters. Why couldn’t you come to me? Best friends figure things out together.”

She looks away. “I know, Amelia. It’s just—” She gulps, pausing. “—my dad was really, really sick, and talking about it with you would’ve made it real. I was in denial for a while.”

“Is he…” I trail off, asking the question no daughter should ever have to answer.

She gives a slight nod, and tears immediately well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Guilt floods me as I realizehow selfish I’ve been, while my friend was dealing with the death of a parent.

“I’m so sorry.” I pull her into a tight hug, hoping it communicates everything I can’t. I’ve never been good at helping others through grief—or any emotions, really.

I know what grief feels like. I remember how nothing anyone said made me feel better when my mother passed, and some days, I just needed a hug. So sometimes, it’s better not to speak, just to listen and be there.

“You’re such a good friend,” she chokes out.

“Always for you, Skye. I’m always here.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Her cries grow louder, echoing off the walls and drowning out the faint TV in the background.

“Don’t. You don’t have to apologize for taking the time you needed to deal with your father,” I say, attempting to console her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She reaches towards me, and for a moment, I brace for another hug. Instead, a sharp sting pierces my neck, sending a jolt of terror through me, like lightning striking at the core of my being. It follows with a cold numbness that spreads rapidly through my body.

She... she stabbed me.

“Why?” The word barely escapes my lips, a fragile whisper. Darkness creeps in, blurring the edges of my vision. I try to focus on her face, searching her eyes for answers, but there’s two of her now and I can barely see.

I slump back onto the bed.

Betrayal floods my senses—it’s all I can think about. It hurts worse than the pain in my neck. Did I ever matter to her at all?

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, trembling through her sobs.

Sorry?

Sorry?

The world tilts sideways, slipping away from me like sand from my fingers. I want to fight it, to hold on, but the darkness pulls me under.

I can’t help but think about… him.

Will I ever see him again?

With a final breath, before I pass out, I ask one last time, “Why?”

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