Sinner and Saint

Chapter Thirteen

***Trigger Warning: This chapter contains themes of grief and self-destructive behavior.

Time will heal, they tell you.

On its schedule, when it feels like it, if it actually gives a shit about you, is what I say to that.

Because time, in the last two weeks, hasn't moved for me, even as the world carried on.

I went through the motions like a puppet on strings, unable to process the why and how and what next.

From the moment I stopped hearing Cece's faint breaths, to the mad scramble when police and emergency responders arrived, to the wait in the hospital hallway for confirmation of what I already knew—it was like I'd already stepped out of my body and sat in a corner watching the whole thing unfold.

Cece was gone.

Recklessly beautiful and daring one moment, and cold and lifeless the next.

Clint, still unfortunately alive and claiming to be horrified by what he'd done, had started negotiating a plea deal. I didn't give a fuck. I was long gone past anger and nothing I did to him was going to bring her back.

Carmela and I lived like ghosts in Cece's house—silent along the halls, weeping throughout the night, haunting the place more relentlessly than the dead.

We held a small funeral yesterday, open to anyone who wanted to come.

While I hated it, Cece had craved attention her whole life.

She would be offended if I took away her last opportunity at it.

So I stood there and ignored the cameras and mics that were pointed my way like they were expecting some kind of unraveling. For me to do what I was notorious for doing—lashing out.

But I was at a point where I felt nothing.

I wasn't sad or cold or hurting.

I was just... empty.

I had no tears or words—not even for Sidney and Jamie who came to be there for me.

Only the faintest shadow of an emotion stirred when I saw Stellan standing with Max at the back row, both in black suits, faces somber.

When the small crowd thinned, they approached. Without a word, Max wrapped me up in a big warm hug that did nothing for the void inside of me.

"I'm so sorry, Kady," he murmured in a low tone before pulling away to look at my face. "If you need anything—and I mean anything—you let me know."

I managed a flat thank-you before automatically turning to Stellan.

I met his eyes, ready with the same default response I used with every conversation I'd endured that morning.

But he said nothing.

Just looked at me with those deep, dark brown eyes that haven't smiled in a while.

And with everything that's happened, that was the first thing I registered to be wrong in the most basic level.

And it was the first thing I felt like I should do something about.

And that made me feel my first pang of guilt—and threatened me with the all-consuming wave that was going to swallow me whole soon enough, once the numbness has faded.

"Thanks for coming," was all I managed to say before I averted my eyes and edged away.

He didn't stop me and I didn't look back.