Numbered

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kylie's feet pounded loudly on the gravel as she ran through the tracks on the edge of the lake.

She breathed in, her lungs aching but still she powered on.

The view of the lake was breath-taking. Gulls called to each-other in the wind and the branches of trees whispered.

A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead and her muscles faltered, screaming for a respite.

Eventually she stopped, placing her hands on her knees, panting heavily.

As soon as she caught her breath, her thoughts surfaced and she felt as though she could faint.

Today was her grandmother's funeral.

She leaned against one of the oaks surrounding the lake, her feet on one of the knarled, outstretched roots.

The water was choppy and the wind was biting, the tips of her ears and her nose were cold and each breath was like inhaling ice.

Her dark hair was secured in a ponytail which was whipping about in the wind.

She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. Not now. I'm not going to cry now. Her eyes glazed with moisture and she broke into a run. It's the wind, she told herself, as a stray tear streamed across her face.

She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts and focused on her muscles pumping as she approached the hill back home to the house where Jared would probably be waiting with lunch.

She knew she wouldn't be able to eat it. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since that visit to the hospital.

The worry was always in Jared's eyes as they sat down to eat a meal. She would always pick at it, before she got up and made some excuse that she had something to do.

She bit down on her lip as the house came into view. A black car was sitting outside, ready to take them to the funeral.

Kylie ran in, barely acknowledging Jared as she ran up the stairs to take a shower. She changed into the black dress she had worn on the day of her execution. She didn't own any other suitable dresses and though it seemed a bit morbid, she didn't care. She wanted this day over with.

She sighed heavily as she walked into the bathroom, steamy from the shower. She ignored Jared's calls as she wiped the condensation off the mirror.

She scrutinized her reflection; she looked sick. Her face was gaunt, her cheekbones prominent and her skin was as pale as snow. Her lips were dry and chapped and her eyes were dull.

The large grey circles under her eyes showed the sleepless nights she had endured. There was the small white scar on her temple from the hit and run accident.

She saw Jared standing in the doorway in the mirror's reflection and she turned around.

His eyes flicked over her outfit. "Are you wearing that...dress?" His voice faltered.

She felt immediately guilty because she knew it brought back bad memories for him. "I couldn't find anything else."

Jared had been out to buy a suit; the suit he'd worn to the execution was spattered with Nico's blood and had long been thrown out. Flashes of the blazer he had worn soaked in blood came to the forefront of her mind. She wondered if the memories of that day would stay with her or if she could make herself forget them.

"We're leaving in five minutes," he informed her, breaking her train of thought. "Nick is meeting us there."

"I'm nowhere near ready," she said, covering her face with her hands. "I look horrible."