Page 96 of Amnesty

I smiled, hoping it looked genuine. It frustrated me the way I felt when I was around her. I was uncomfortable. Awkward. Slightly intimidated… and a little bit jealous.

Okay. Fine. Maybe more than a little bit.

“I’m sure he’ll really like that,” I said, reaching out and putting my hand over hers. “He’s really happy you’re back. The whole town is.”

Her hair was long and shiny around her shoulders. It looked freshly washed and brushed. It made me think of how chopped up and uneven mine had been when I got out of the hospital.

Joline poked her head around the corner and called my name. I perked up, grateful for the interruption. “The glaze waits for no one!” she told me.

I chuckled beneath my breath and stood. “I’m helping Joline. I should go finish up.”

Sadie stared at me, focused. After a second, she blinked then nodded. “You didn’t come back to see me,” she said, mild accusation in her tone.

“I know,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I had a memory and it overwhelmed me. Scared me. I was afraid it would happen again.”

“You can’t pretend,” she said.

“What?”

“You can’t pretend it didn’t happen. It did. All of it.”

I felt my insides tremble. A fine tremor shook my fingers. I got up from the table. “I know it did,” I told her quietly. “I’m not pretending.”

Joline called my name again.

“Coming!” I answered. Then I looked back at Sadie. “I really have to go.”

“I’ll see you later,” Sadie said. “At home.”

Chills raced up and down my arms and legs, the back of my neck prickled with discomfort, and I practically ran into the back.

Sadie and I were roommates now.

Or should I sayagain?

Every time the bell on the door jingled, I looked up. It was pretty fucking stupid because I knew it wasn’t Am. I knew she was down the street, shopping, but still, every time the bells made their distinct announcement, my eyes shot up, hoping to see her.

It made for a slow work morning. Getting things done was hard when I was constantly looking at the door.

Eventually, I gave up on the shit that required the most attention, putting it aside until she came in this afternoon. At least I hoped her presence would allow me to stay focused enough to get it done then.

For now, I settled on restocking a few shelves and doing a few tedious things on the computer (AKA register) at the front counter.

There was the typical morning rush, mostly regulars but with a few non-regular morning shoppers who dashed in needing something last minute.

After the latest customer walked out with paper sacks in hand, I went into the back to grab a cup of coffee. The one I drank earlier was starting to wear off. I thought about Am, hoping she was enjoying herself, hoping she found something for herself she truly loved.

Truth was I padded her paycheck a little. She didn’t know it and I would never admit it, but I could do shit like that because I was the boss. No one told me what I could and couldn’t pay my employees.

Favorable treatment? You bet your ass. But she deserved it. No one deserved it more.

That thought made my mind turn to Sadie. I felt a twinge of guilt for my last thought. Perhaps Sadie deserved some favoring as well. It was hard to wrap my head around the fact that Rumor Island had two victims (three if you counted Widow West, but I didn’t feel like counting her). Even harder to accept that Sadie wasn’t the one I was most focused on.

For so long, she was it. The be all, end all. Odd how she had more of my attention in absence than now in her presence. The shame of that made my face burn. Even though I went to see her every day, even though I cared about her—hell, part of me even loved her—I still felt as though I were somehow betraying her.

Truth was it didn’t matter how much time I spent with her, sat at her bedside, or reminisced, I didn’t connect with her the way I used to. There was something between us. A barrier I was starting to believe only I felt.

I knew it was probably the twelve years we were apart. The heinous, crippling things that happened to her. How whenever I looked at her, I saw a girl who was beaten so badly she lost a child and almost died. It made me sick… sick I didn’t stop it. I felt responsible, even though I wasn’t the one who inflicted all her wounds.

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