29: Kiara James

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Kiara

Present Day
"You got to him in time, Ki," Aaliyah says into my hair. "He's going to be okay. You saved his life. You got to him in time."

I don't even register the tears that fall down my face. I'm done fighting it.

"You're so much stronger than you're giving yourself credit for, Kiara. Despite everything falling apart, you still chose not to take those pills. You saved Parker's life. You called me— finally asked for help."

I push out of her arms and head for my bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror, genuinely stare. My eyes are puffy. My entire face is red.

I reach into my vanity drawer and pull out the little bag. It's so light. God, it's so heavy.

Aaliyah is standing at my bathroom door. Her eyes are so sad as they lock on me. She traces my face three or four times. It's so subtle, and the average person wouldn't notice—I always notice.

I hand her the little plastic bag, and she gulps.

"Ki, there's only one pill in here."

"Yeah. When EMS got there, there was no sound, none other than the counting in my head. Even after they pried me off of him, the counting kept going. And then he was gone. The counting remained. And the little pill was excruciatingly loud. So I took it. I wanted quiet."

"Sweetie," Aaliyah pulls me close.

"They told me to wait, give a statement. I couldn't be there. So I left. And I drove to the art studio. I don't know; I sort of hoped he was there. And when he wasn't, I took another one."

I pull back from her and run my fingers through my hair.

"I slept on the floor of that art studio. It was hard and cold, but it was quiet. Everything was finally quiet. Even though I never did actually get a second of sleep."

My eyes drift to the ground, and I begin to tug at the bracelet on my wrist. I don't see it. I'm not even sure that I hear it, but the bodies switch, and Aaliyah is suddenly my dad.

"My soul has changed." I sob, and my dad catches me as my legs finally give in to the exhaustion.

He scoops me up and hugs me close to him. I can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

"Shh, sweetie," my mom runs her fingers through my hair. I can't look at them.

"Can we have a moment?" My dad practically whispers. Nobody answers, but I know they leave. He places me on my bed and climbs in next to me.

"I swear I've been trying to come home, Daddy. I've been trying."

"I didn't even think to ask you where you'd gone."

Oh, the places I'd gone. How I wish I could erase the bruising memories.

"It started so small. School was just a little harder. Life was just a little busier. I was just a little quieter. And then Chemistry didn't make sense no matter how hard I tried. A minuses turned into B pluses despite hours of studying. Missing one home game in Miami turned into missing three of four. You staying home until a week before training camp turned into you leaving the month before training camp. Mom being spread thin between four kids turned into mom being spread thin between four kids and a grandkid. And life changed. And I chose silence."

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