Page 96 of At the Edge of Surrender

I’d believed I’d healed.

But no.

There it was. The hole gaping and amplified by the loss of my sister.

A quiet hitch of caustic laughter climbed my thickened throat as I tossed my legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed both hands over my face.

Healed?

As if the way I reacted to men wasn’t a direct consequence of that night?

The anger that I’d worn as a shield to protect myself from the things I couldn’t control?

It had always felt so much easier than being vulnerable.

So much easier than putting myself in a position where I could be hurt.

It was easier to be alone.

To hole up in my little house and hide myself away.

It was something I’d been working on for a long, long time. First accepting it rather than pretending as if it hadn’t happened, then slowly trying to find myself on the other side of it.

Who I wanted to be and how I wanted to handle my life. To discover my needs and joys. Chase after experiences that had dwindled into the faint pictures of fantasies in the back of my mind.

My chest squeezed and my stomach tightened.

Nerves scattering with the thought of the way I’d let go with Kane. The way it had felt. I almost wanted to wish it’d only been a dream, almost as desperately as a part inside wanted to cling to it as proof that one day I would stand in that light.

Find me in the darkness, bring me to the light.

The small words that I’d had tattooed to remind me of the hope that remained burned on the inner part of my wrist.

How could he be the one with the power to do it? How could he be the one to touch me and I could actually feel it rather than giving into the numbness I normally felt? How could he be the one to elicit goosebumps on my flesh? The one who’d sent the charge of ecstasy spinning through my body?

A swell of anger swooped in right behind it, and I exhaled a shattered breath.

How badly I wanted to blame him for all of this.

But what would I do if I were in his position?

God, Emmalee. If I could only talk to you one more time. If you could just make me understand.

Yearning for insight, for a connection to my sister, for a way to calm the storm that raged inside me, I slipped off the high bed andtiptoed over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. I pulled out the chair, sat, then switched on the small lamp.

A swath of muted light filtered into the room, and I leaned over and dug into my laptop case. I brought my laptop so I’d be able to do some of my freelance work while I was away, but what I was after were the few things that I’d brought of Emmalee’s.

Her tablet and one of the memory books that I’d found with all the things she’d hidden at the back of her closet.

I pulled out the memory book and opened it on the desk.

Anxiety pulsed through my being as I flipped through the pages.

I should have known looking at it wouldn’t calm anything. It only stoked the confusion that bound as I looked at the chaos she’d kept inside.

We’d both been devastated.

Traumatized.

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