Page 30 of I Will Break You
“Sometimes, Xero sent me things in the mail which were never forwarded.”
“That’s not an answer. And things get lost all the time,” she says, already defensive.
I purse my lips, feeling like shit for speaking ill of the dead. “Was Kayla a Xero fan?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Myra asks.
“What if she was late forwarding a few items? By the time Xero re-sent them, she might have had two of the same thing and decided there was no harm in keeping the duplicate.”
Myra falls silent again, seeming to think through my logic. I turn out of Elgin Road and onto the highway connecting my suburb of Beaumont City with Alderney Hill. Mom and Dad own one of the houses on the lower part of the hill, where property prices are seven figures instead of eight.
One would think a couple with a mini-mansion and pool house would be able to accommodate their daughter, but they shoved me away into No. 13 Parisii Drive after pulling me out of college.
“Okay, let’s say Kayla kept a few items for herself. Why would Xero’s ghost even care?” Myra asks.
“One of them was his mother’s locket,” I say. “That was the only thing he had of her before she died.”
Myra clears her throat. “How do you know Kayla took it?”
“Yesterday, Xero sent me two photos. One of him holding the locket and the second of a woman with my hairstyle sucking down a big black dildo.”
“Did you call the police?” she asks, her voice rising several octaves.
“They came to the house last night, but I was more concerned about the letter he slipped under my pillow.”
She splutters. “What letter?”
I continue down the highway, recounting everything that happened after she left, excluding the part where I bought hydrogen peroxide to clear up the last traces of Jake’s DNA. I also skip the episodes where I encountered Jake’s corpse. Traumadumping has a limit, and I believe that limit is murder and its repercussions.
Myra doesn’t speak much for the rest of the journey, already seeming drained by my troubles. I can’t blame her. She’s tolerated my drama for over a decade, all the time expecting me to get better.
Nothing strange has happened to me for months, and now there are two possible deaths. Three, if you count the one I’m keeping quiet. Besides, being haunted by a vengeful ghost is pretty exhausting.
As I take the turn to Alderney Hill, she say, “Don’t freak out when I ask you this, okay?”
“Go on,” I reply, my stomach tightening in anticipation.
“When was the last time you took your meds?” Before I can protest, she adds, “Remember that time you were hooking up with that Jaimie guy, and Mr. Lawson appeared with you in the bed?”
“He was at the edge of the mattress.”
She pauses. “Really? I thought he was in it?”
“He tried to get in,” I reply through clenched teeth, already knowing she’s steering the conversation toward my mental health. “But let me ask you some questions.”
She hesitates for several breaths before replying with, “Okay.”
I reach the foot of Alderney Hill, one of the most dangerous roads in Beaumont City for its sharp gradient and hair-pin turns. The visibility here is terrible, even in broad daylight, due to the oversized juniper trees lining both sides of the road.
The evergreens that grow toward the sky only cast shadows, while other trees have low-hanging branches that stretch over the narrow lane, creating a canopy that plays tricks with the mind. Thankfully, I’ve never had an accident, since my parents live close to the bottom. My thoughts shift back to my argument.
“Question one, do I know where Kayla lives? No, I don’t. Two. Remember how I texted you to check on her because I was worried and a day later, you told me she was murdered with one of Xero’s gifts? Did I hallucinate that? No, I didn’t.”
“Amy—”
“And you might want to checkon Gavin.”
“Because Xero’s ghost cut off his fingers?” she asks, still sounding doubtful.