Tempted | Kai Parker

seven: the square

Kai's POV

It had been three days since it happened now. Three torturous days, and I hadn't seen Andie once since that night. I had spent the whole time locked in my room, wishing I could hate her for what she did. Wishing I could condemn her.

But I just couldn't.

Normally, if someone had done something like that to me, if someone saw what she had, I would have killed them. I wouldn't have even hesitated. I would have drained every inch of power from her body until she seized to exist.

But for some reason this wasn't like normal, because the thought of her dying - the thought of her grey lifeless body lying before me, made my toes curl in a way that was completely foreign to me.

I had to admit, the last few days had tested my mind. I quickly began to feel the familiar sting of loneliness creep back in, tossing me viciously into the darkness which accompanied isolation.

I had almost grown accustomed to an escape from my solitude since Andie and her irritating friends wound up here four months ago. Now after having a taste of company, the pain just burned even worse than before.

And I wanted more than anything to give into my weak desire to indulge in interactions with Andie again. Because in all honesty, I had missed my conversations with her.

But how could I face her anymore?

I mean, how could I speak to her knowing what she saw?

She had seen the deepest, most traumatising corners of my brain, where I locked away the agonizing memories that I wished I could forget. She had heard pathetic screams roar from my lips, seen Jo abandon me, watched my father torture me. 

I couldn't even comprehend how to interact with someone who knew those things about me.

At first, admittedly, I was furious with Andie. The night of the incident I stormed up here and spend the whole night seething. I spent countless tortured hours just replaying what she did over and over in my mind.

Unfortunately, the anger eventually fizzled out. Then all I could do was think about it all in excruciating detail. And without the rage to keep me going, I found the memories of the other night tormenting me even more.

One awful thought spun relentlessly through my brain, getting louder and louder with every waking moment.

She had seen me at my weakest.

And I could never explain how fucking embarrassing that was.

I hadn't intended for anyone to know the things my father did to me, because I refused to let him relish the satisfaction of knowing he had affected me.

I knew that would please him.

The satanic bastard would probably laugh if he knew I woke up at night screaming because my nightmares were filled with all the fucked up things he ever did to me.

As if the traumatising memories weren't enough to be dealing with, today I seemed to develop an odd twisting feeling in my stomach that I couldn't quite place. I can't say it was something I had ever felt before, but that's probably because I didn't feel anything.

The uneasy sensation snaked through my gut whenever I recalled one particular part of the night. The cold words I spat echoed in my head, rattling relentlessly against my skull.

"I got you the fucking dress so you'd finally drop the Virgin Mary act and sleep with me."

The look on her face was still burned into my mind. The single tear that rolled from her chestnut eyes. I didn't really know why, but I hated that my words had made her feel like that.