A Love That Killed

Chapter 8

Katherine's POV

Stupid, stupid.

I shouldn't trust him, he could be lying, but his eyes..there was something that captured my attention in them.  The piercing golden, lonely and full of uncertainty, the same uncertainty I held.  We were the same, perhaps he just as lost as I?  No, no everything about him suggested courage, as if he had overcome, and survived, as I had hoped to one day to.

No, stupid.  You can't just trust any stranger.

Kenneth.

The name burned in my mind, the eyes burned in mine, the candle burned in my head, but my thoughts burned in my head as well...I closed my eyes, and gritted my teeth..I needed to know, I wanted to know, and he knew something.  He  had answers, and I needed them, god I needed them.

I had turned my back for too long, Kenneth thought I wanted to leave, to go, it was late, maybe I should.  I can feel him shifting behind me, probably wondering why I have suddenly stopped.  He says my name again, it sounds muffled to my ears, when I do not answer her taps my shoulder.

I wince beneath his touch, too accustomed to what usually came next, he's not Robert, I have to remind myself.

I turn, lifting my eyes to lock with his, his breath catching, "You remind me of someone..." he whispers, shaking his head he says, more to himself than to me, "she's gone now, it doesn't matter"

 "You know something" I say, wondering why we are talking in hushed whispers.

His body shakes, a low chuckle escaping as his mouth tilts up on the side ever so slightly, "I suppose I wasn't expecting to exchange pleasantries."  I know he is joking but at the moment all I want is an answer, I give him a dry look raising an eyebrow.

He and I are standing too close for two people who have just met.  Closeness makes me uncomfortable, I shuffle backwards, hoping he doesn't notice.  Too late, I see hurt flash in his eyes, so quick I wonder if I had imagined.  He is still a stranger, and I am a woman with a ring on her finger whether I am actually married or not.

"To answer your question, well statement really, yes I do."

Silence.  Each second ticking by dramatically.

And suddenly I know, I know where the uncertainty comes from, he has lost someone, he has lost a her.

"Who was she?" I ask, reaching to touch his arm lightly.  He shivers under my touch, as if my touch brought energy shooting up his arm, traveling through his muscular body.

Closing his eyes, he breathes, "She was my stepsister." He takes a shaky breath.  I see a slight irritation passing through his eyes as he looks down at me.  "Can you just please sit down?  This is complicated and I'd really rather you sit."  He sighs when I make no effort to sit, finding his own seat at the candle lit table.  "Well?"  He whispers, motioning to the chair across, and the box holding the pictures.  I slowly make my way toward him.

"Okay, so she was your stepsister."

"Yes, Rita Cortell, my mother died at my birth,  she was a very sick woman.  When I was a toddler, my father remarried.  A widow, her name was Ileena." Closing his eyes he continues, "I can't say I had an immediate liking toward her, but my father- h- he loved her..so he was thrilled when she was pregnant, and they had a daughter..Rita.  Rita was something else, she became my favorite person, she was soft spoken and she was a wonderful sister.  And then the years flew by and we grew up."  He pauses laughing a bitter laugh.