Page 54 of Burning Truths

Looking around the room my gaze lands on the kitchen.

“I need a shower and food.” I nod to myself in agreement.

“Ok.” Is all he says before leaving me to head into the kitchen.

While he starts pulling stuff from the cabinets and fridge I force myself to go take a shower. An hour later my stomach is far too full and sleep threatens to take over again. Romero stands from the chair across from the couch I’m laying on to grab a blanket from the blanket ladder in the corner of the room. Opening the large grey quilt, he tosses it over me, and drops to his knee.

“If you need a place to hide, you know where to find me. I don’t know what’s going on at Hawthorne, but things areshifting, and people can feel it. It started with Cole’s death, but when you went missing Ry.” He stops and clears his throat. “His eyes went dark and nothing, but death and anger followed in his path. If you think they did this then I believe you, but you need to know that he forced Allie to kill her father because he was connected to your disappearance.”

Romero must see the confusion painted across my expression because he nods.

“It’s all people have been talking about.” He blows out a deep breath, “Listen, Kenna. I know we had our thing at the beginning of the year and I blew you off out of fear. I’m sorry for that and I would be bullshitting if I claimed I wasn’t still worried about what they might do to me but I’m betting they’d want you to have someone on your side.”

Pushing off the edge of the couch he stands over me with a soft smile. “I’ll keep this to myself, but you can’t hide here forever.” Walking away he leaves me alone to my thoughts.

With food in my stomach and fresh clothes on my body I let myself slide into a deep sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Five

KENNA

Wiping the steam from the mirror, smokey eyes peer at me through the glass. Soaked blonde hair drips down my bare skin sending a chill through my bones. Her cheekbones are prominent and sharper than I remember. The blue and black circles under her eyes seem to be fading which could be from the ten hours of sleep.

You just left him there with the snakes.

The voice in the back of my head reminds me that I’m alone. Reminding me that I abandoned the only hope I have of getting real answers.

Where is your father?

She’s fucking taunting me. Perched on her high horse looking down at the broken little princess she sneers as she ridicules me.

I’m you. So, really who’s to blame here?

If I can prove my father’s innocence…. I trail off because how can I do that when I can’t even figure out who to trust.

Nothing but a scared little girl.

“Enough!” I scream, my fist smashes into the mirror shattering the glass into ragged cracks.

Blood rolls down a shard of glass, my eyes follow the stream, watching it drip from the wooden frame. The bright crimsonstream distracts me from the sudden sharp pain radiating from my knuckles shooting its way down my arm. Anger takes the place of the ache fueling my movements. Jerking my hand away from the broken mirror my grey eyes take in my reflection. Cracks and jagged lines shoot in different directions distorting the image in front of me. Nodding my head at the broken woman in the glass my throat bobs when I swallow down my emotions.

Running my fingers through my wet hair they thread three sections together making one long braid that I leave hanging over my shoulder the tip of the braid resting against my bare ribcage. Looking away from the smokey grey eyes, I storm through into the hall shoving my door open. Blowing out a breath through my nose, I don’t let myself look around the messy room instead I walk straight to my closet and shove the door into the wall. There’s a subtle tremble in my hands that I decide to ignore choosing to snatch a black tank top from a hanger and a sports bra from the hook on the back side of the closet door. Pulling on both, I manage to get fully dressed in seconds, adding skin tight leggings with lace ends where they meet my ankle. The shirt hangs loose on me but it works and that’s all that matters.

Blood falls onto the carpet from my still open wound.

“Shit.” I groan when I realize there’s nothing here to wrap it.

An idea pops into my head and suddenly I’m dropping to my knees, reaching under the bed, my fingers feel for a pair of all white Nike shoes. My gaze drifts to the small red circle on the cream carpet watching as each fiber of the carpet drinks in my blood. Pushing off the floor with one hand I use the other to pull up my shoes. Propping my ass against the bed my legs shake slightly as I balance against the bed to slide my shoes on. Heading towards the door I head to the only place I can think of where no one would look for me.

The fucking man has to live on the top floor. Rolling my eyes, my chest rises and falls faster, my calves burning from the workout. Listing off the names in my head I drill them into my memory so I don't forget who I can’t trust. Starting with the brothers and ending with Ally. Each person on my ever growing list makes my heart twist with the knowledge that for most of my life I’ve been a fucking pawn. What doesn’t make sense is why my father is sitting in prison for something he didn’t do if he knows more than he claims. Why would he allow himself to be held in that hellhole unless he had his own reasons? Then another thought hit me. Why would the Stone brothers sell me to Hank for cash when they have more money than God?

Climbing the last flight of stairs my mind is all over the place by the time I reach his door. Lifting my hand to knock, I drop it to my side. Turning away, I hesitate for a second. Rolling my neck I pace back and forth trying to run through my options before deciding this is the best I’ve got. Using my foot I kick his door and slip my hands behind my back. A voice calls out to tell me to hold on, the sound of footsteps follow, and finally the door swings open.

Those milky eyes lighten at the sight of me at his door and I can’t help the annoyed grin that wants to follow. Lifting my hand from behind my back I let out a shaky laugh flashing him the split flesh across my knuckles.

“I figured you’d have something to wrap my hand.” I state.

He is on the football team after all. They get hurt all the time and let’s not pretend that I haven’t seen him with a busted lip a time or two from the Basement. Yeah, even the preps and jocks go to let off some steam by getting their pound of flesh. A wide tooth smile breaks out and a warm feeling sneaks into my veins.

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