Page 26 of Our Secrets and Scars

But I guess I was wrong.

Five

Kinsley

“Howarethingsgoingwith your girl?” I ask Isla as we walk to class the next Monday morning.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Chick’s crazy, but she’s hot as hell.”

I laugh, or attempt to, but the sound falls flat. It’s been forty-eight hours since Holden walked me back to my dorm, and I’m still reeling from the words he left me with. I don’t know why it hurts so much when it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before, but Holden’s rejection of me has been a permanent, unrelenting ache in my bones.

You like him.

It’s Kinsley’s voice I hear in my head and not the self-assured, confident tone I’ve tried to train into Violet.

But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

I’ve tried so hard to kill off the girl I used to be, but simply changing my name and forcing myself to behave a certain way hasn’t magically turned me into someone else.

Because while Violet may be the mask I wear every day, it’s Kinsley who still feels everything. The trauma of my past still seeps into my present, no matter how much I try to compartmentalize that portion of my history with the woman I want to be now. And it’s Kinsley who feels the rush of adrenaline, the spike in her heartbeat, and the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in her stomach whenever Holden’s around.

It’s Kinsley who feels the bitter shame of rejection and Violet who pretends she’s fine.

“You okay?” Isla asks with her brows drawn tight. “You’ve been acting weird all weekend.”

“I’m fine.”

She sighs and nibbles on a fingernail as she thinks. “I know we don’t really talk about deep shit, but you know we can if you want to, right? I’ll listen if you need to get something off your mind.”

It’s strange. Since Bex died, I’ve had no one that I could have ever even considered confiding in. There’s no one I’ve trusted enough to tell the thoughts that haunt me sometimes, the self-hatred that cripples me on a daily basis.

Fletcher doesn’t count. My confessions were only ever written down and never given a voice. Maybe if I’d had to look him in the eye, I wouldn’t have told him the things I did.

But something about Isla feels warm to me. She reminds me of my sister, though they don’t look anything alike, but their vibrance and outgoing natures are almost identical. It makes me want to talk to Isla. To feel the comfort of sisterhood that I’ve missed so much since Bexley died.

“You’ll roll your eyes,” I tell her with a small smile.

“Probably, but tell me anyway.”

I suck in a breath and rub my sweaty hands together. “I met a guy,” I say and laugh lightly when I catch her already rolling her eyes.

“The one from the party the other night? Is he the same one as the tattoo guy from the parlor?”

I nod.

“So, what happened?”

I gnaw on my bottom lip, remembering. “I don’t know, really. He walked me home after the party and everything was fine, I think. But then we got back, and I was…” I trail off for a moment. “God, this is so embarrassing. I was thinking about how much I wanted him to kiss me and I guess he saw my scars or something because suddenly he was shutting down and telling me to stay away from him.”

Isla stops walking, her brow furrowed. “What? He told you to stay away from him?”

“Yeah.”

“Likestay away from me,oryou should stay away from me?” she asks as if the answer makes any difference at all.

“Don’t they mean the same thing?”

“Not really.” She shakes her head. “So, which one?”

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