SECOND DRAFT: Hard Bank Left

4

"What happened?"

Graham's eyes darted up, meeting hers quickly before skirting away. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Krys waited for a beat: silence. She edged closer to him. "Was it really that bad? I mean. I do remember falling asleep in my window..."

"After that."

"I was asleep. There was no after that."

The look he slapped her with was one of disgust and concern and fear.

"What?"

The look deepened into frustration.

"Graham, please."

"Tell me why you left."

"What?"

"Tell me why you left. It's been two years. I have been patient. I have waited till you were ready to tell me, but I need to know. I won't tell you what happened until you tell me why you left me."

Graham's expression softened as Krys slowly unraveled. Her eyes widened, her brow furrowed, her lip turned in as she physically withdrew. Curling into herself, she turned away. Krys ran her hands over her head in a soothing motion corrupted by a compulsion to control her actions. If someone else were to stroke her hair it would have helped, but her own hands? The stress of it only made the sensation grating, and yet she continued, repeating the same gesture as she slowly collapsed to her knees. Crying came next, bursting out of her as naturally as breathing.

"Hey." Soft hands clutched at hers, holding them, stopping them in their repetitive path. "Hey. You don't have to tell me. You don't have to say anything. I get it. I've been there."

Krys choked on her tears, tried to compose herself, failed. Words came, throttled by sobs and barely audible. "But I- I want to. You should- should know- what hap-happened."

"You don't have to."

"Graham." She looked up, meeting his gaze.

"You don't-"

Krys shook her head, held up her hand to silence him, waved him down to her level. Obediently, he knelt beside her.

"He, Dustan, he... did things."

"What kind of things?"

Krys held up her hand again. "Cut me open. Splayed me out piece by piece. He was trying to cause the greatest amount of pain possible... but I... I couldn't feel a thing."

"What?"

"I... don't know. I don't want to know. Can... can I just...?"

"Yeah. Yeah come here." With a deep sigh, she tilted until her cheek met his shoulder. "I've gotcha. K?"

She nodded silently.

"You lit the kitchen on fire."

The sudden shock and confusion she had her pulling against his arm, trying to sit up and look at him, but the arm over her shoulder held fast, not allowing her to move more than a few centimeters. Instead, she tilted her head to look at him and was greeted by a face full of scruffy beard.

"I what?"

"You... set the kitchen on fire." His tone was so matter of fact that it seemed almost humorous.

Krys sat up to fully look him in the face, this time he let her. His face read mild bemusement, genuine concern lingering below the surface. Krys returned his gaze with horror and disbelief.

"Wha- how?"

"Beats me! I woke up to Celeste screaming nonsense and found you in the kitchen surrounded by blue flames."