Between Worlds

Chapter 9: More Secrets

Scarlet could feel the tension thickening in the room as she glanced over at Kennedy, who was still perched by the bay window, her gaze far away and lost in thought. The lightheartedness that had briefly danced in her eyes was gone now, replaced by a heavy sadness that weighed down the atmosphere. Despite Kennedy's attempts to mask her pain with forced smiles and casual remarks, Scarlet could see right through her. She knew that behind the façade, Kennedy was hurting—deeply. And that hurt seemed to ripple through the air, a silent cry for help that Scarlet couldn't ignore.

The events of the previous night still hung between them like a dark cloud, unresolved and heavy. Scarlet knew she couldn't keep avoiding the conversation, couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. She wanted Kennedy to trust her, to open up to her, to see her as someone she could lean on. But how do you comfort someone who isn't exactly...alive? Someone who might vanish the moment things get too real?

When Kennedy spoke again, her voice was a little too cheerful, too eager. "I could try and get in," she said, referring to the idea of sneaking into Scarlet's father's office. "I don't think it'll be a problem, though."

Scarlet sighed inwardly. Even now, Kennedy was deflecting, using the office as a distraction from what really needed to be discussed. Scarlet wasn't having it. She knew it was time to stop dancing around the issue. She needed to confront it head-on, even if it meant pushing Kennedy into uncomfortable territory. Taking a deep breath, Scarlet decided it was time to bring up the elephant in the room.

"Hey, Kennedy, can we talk?" she asked cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

Kennedy turned to look at her, a playful smile still lingering on her lips. "Isn't that what we're doing now?" she teased, a light giggle escaping her.

Scarlet couldn't help but smile back, even though she knew this conversation was about to take a much darker turn. "Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. "But I meant, can we talk about yesterday?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Scarlet saw the shift in Kennedy's expression. The smile that had been holding on by a thread finally slipped away, and a shadow fell over her features. Kennedy's lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes darkening as the memories of the previous night resurfaced. Scarlet knew she had hit a nerve, but there was no turning back now. This needed to be said.

"Look, Kennedy," Scarlet began, her voice soft but firm as she pushed herself off the bed and moved to sit opposite Kennedy. The distance between them felt like a chasm, but Scarlet was determined to bridge it. "I think that book is trying to tell us something, giving us clues about what's really going on."

Kennedy's gaze flickered, her eyes searching Scarlet's for a moment before dropping to her lap. The cheerfulness that had briefly lit up her face was gone, replaced by something far more somber. "That book... it clearly knows something," she murmured, almost to herself. "It knew about me, for some reason."

Scarlet watched as Kennedy sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on her slender shoulders. She was trying so hard to hold it together, to avoid talking about the things that were tearing her apart inside. But Scarlet couldn't let her keep doing this. She couldn't let Kennedy carry this burden alone.

"Please," Scarlet said gently, reaching out to place a hand on Kennedy's arm. She half-expected Kennedy to pull away, to retreat into that shell she had been building around herself. But instead, Kennedy remained still, her eyes staring blankly out of the old, cracked window. "We need to figure this out, together."

Kennedy didn't respond immediately. She just sat there, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the windowsill, her thoughts clearly miles away. Scarlet could see the conflict in her eyes—the desire to keep things buried deep inside, warring with the need to let it all out.