MICHAEL
It is fucking freezing cold out here, but nobody bothers me. Not that anyone would bother me anywhere else at four o’clock in the fucking morning, but old habits die hard. This barn used to have horses and saddles and shit…I remember when it did, but I don’t remember whatever happened to them. They are just more missing pieces in my already cracked childhood.
My fucking Dad. Always butting in where I don’t need him and trying to save the day… but there is nothing here to save. I don’t need anyone to save me, no one could save me anyway. Well, except Kate. She saves me all the fucking time.
Kate.
The thought of her walking around the cold, dark mansion, looking for me in just a t-shirt is what propels me to get my ass off the freezing, hay-covered ground. I brush the dirt off my jeans and let the barn door creak shut behind me, extinguishing the light that by some miracle even worked in the first place.
The house is just as dark and quiet as it was when I left it less than an hour ago. As I walk back to my room, I listen for signs of Kate wandering the halls, but it is quiet. My immediate worry is calmed when I see a sliver of yellow light under the door.
When I push it open, I see Kate sitting in the middle of the bed with her legs drawn up to her chest, her face registering surprise first, then relief, and finally settling on anger.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
“Hi?” She repeats. She says the word menacingly, her eyes reduced to slits. “That’s all you have to say, Michael? Hi?”
“No, I um…” Shit. She’s never mad at me, like really mad at me. “I’m sorry?”
“Are you asking me?” She raises one eyebrow coldly.
“What?”
“You said it like a question. Are you asking me if you’re sorry?”
“Kate,” I groan. She just looks at me, expression just as stony. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that and left you here. But you shouldn’t have—" She holds up a hand to stop me.
“Don’t validate your apology by trying to give me something to apologize for. I already know my mistakes,” she says calmly.
“Then can we talk about them?” I ask desperately. “Your mistakes, and mine.” Kate looks like she is contemplating, but she moves to one side of the bed and scoots to the edge, gesturing for me to join her. To my surprise, she initiates the conversation.
“I know that you want answers. I know that you feel like you don’t have an identity, and that you suddenly will if you figure out where you came from. And I know that it’s not my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do to handle the situation. I’m sorry if you feel like I overstepped my boundaries.”
“No, I… baby. There aren’t…there shouldn’t be boundaries between me and you. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t want your help.” I try to put my thoughts into words, but it’s so fucking hard. I can barely put my thoughts into thoughts.
“Then why were you mad?” Kate finally looks up at me, and her eyes are shining with tears. Damn it, I was doing so good at not making her cry.
“I wasn’t mad at you, I was… I was just mad. It feels like everyone is ganging up on me, trying to get me to stop.”
“Doesn’t that make you at least question it, though?” Kate asks. I try to process her question. Maybe it should make me think twice. But I’ve always been so single-minded, and I can’t imagine stopping now. How do I put that into words? I decide to just do my best, to speak them as they cross my mind.
