Playing Heart Games

Level 46: Do As She Says

AXEL

Dear Violet,

You have every right to hate me. I hate me too.

Love,

Axel.

Like I'd done the last hundred times, I stared at the message and, for a split second, I pretended I was going to send it. I imagined what she would say in response. I could hear her voice: I don't hate you Axel.

I erased the message and got out of bed.

The sun sliced through a gap in the curtains, stinging my eyes.

I was on the path to becoming a hermit. The only time I left the house was if I had a therapy appointment, school, or if I had to listen to one of Brielle's demands.

Like today.

I stumbled through a shower, then through getting dressed. I was still exhausted when I made my way to the kitchen. Sleep had been difficult to grasp the last few weeks.

The sound of voices drifted from the kitchen. I scowled. If Brielle was already here—

My scowl dissipated as I stepped through the archway.

Mom was sat at the centre island, smiling.

Opposite her was a woman, tanned, with deep red hair tied up into an intricate bun.

Mom glanced up and beamed. "Honey, you're awake!"

"Yeah." I rounded the table and kissed her forehead. "Morning."

"Kelsey, this is Axel. Axel this is Kelsey."

Kelsey smiled. "You must be the older twin. Your mom talks a lot about you two."

Mom's grin widened.

She was happy. Practically glowing.

I offered my hand. "Nice to meet you."

Anyone who could make mom smile deserved politeness.

Kelsey shook it. "You too."

Mom looked so happy, I thought she might implode.

Our family had never been a social one. For her to have a friend over was a big deal.

I was happy for her.

Mom looked up at me. "Is Bree coming over today?"

There went the happiness.

I suppressed a scowl. "Yeah. I'm going to wait for her outside."

I was tired of her coming in here. Of having to pretend in front of my mother. And I still didn't know what Brielle wanted.

"I'll see you later," I said, before mom could offer to see us off.

I tried to empty my mind as I stepped outside. Thinking about how pissed off I was at Brielle didn't help anything. It made everything that much worse.

Brielle's car came up the driveway as I made my way down the stone steps.

She pulled up, stepping out of the car.

Her eyes flickered to my hair. Her lips pursed. I'd dyed my hair back to white-blond two weeks ago. She'd been pissed off. But, short of shaving my head, she couldn't do anything about it.

Her lips stretched into a grin—my mom was probably watching. "You know, your inability to drive is incredibly inconvenient."

I walked towards the passenger seat. "Are we going or not?"