TWO HALVES OF A WHOLE

9. HER DEMON SLAYER

They say the passage of time will heal your wounds. Wounds may heal, but what about the scars? They fade? Some might do, but what about the others, the deep ones? How much we get past those fucking painful memories, these scars will be there to remind us of our mistakes, our regret, our guilt. One word, one trigger is all it takes to rip open the same old wounds.

Jake Kellen, my first best friend, EX-BESTFRIEND, a jerk who was so good at pretending that I mistook him as the main lead of my childhood friends to lovers' romance novella. A late teenage stupidity! But as I said, I'm past that asshole. But still couldn't the triggers. That was the fucking problem. Every time he showed up in the past, he used to remind me of the fragile girl I was. And he tried to do the same after these five freaking years. I guess some traumas we never truly heal. We may accept the reality and move on, but at the end of the day, they are still there.

I let out a huge sigh and leaned back on the seat, closing my eyes. Mr Davidson insisted on driving me to the penthouse after the incident. I tried to fight a little, but here I was, sitting in an awkward silence in his car for almost half an hour. He keeps looking out the window while his jaws clenched and unclenched as he runs his fingers on one hand through his sleek black hair. And with the other hand, he handles the steering, and his knuckles are turning white. He is angry, isn't he? But WHY is he angry?

"You didn't have to do this," I said, playing with the ring on my fingers without looking at him.

"Seriously?" I turned to him. "Do you really think I would leave you alone without making sure by myself that you reach home safely after that?" He said that with a glance, I can't give a name. He looked angry, a bit sad, or maybe responsible. No, I don't want him to feel that way. I don't want anyone to feel that way. But I don't know how to tell him. I have never let anyone see this vulnerable me, at least not for the past few years. It's so new and raw to me that somebody sees me fighting the demons inside of me for the very first time. Urghhh! Why am I so bad at this?

"I... Um... It's just... It's not the first time." I looked down, and he whispered something to himself. "I would have managed somehow." Like every time. I always do.

"You okay, now?" He asked after a while.

"Yeah. I'm fine. And thank you... like for everything." Okay, I need a fucking class on how to communicate gratitude after something like this happens. He glanced at me with a slight nod and turned his face towards the road. I leaned to the window.

"Do you believe that there is this thing called love is real, Mr Davidson?" I couldn't control the urge to ask him the question I always had for everyone.

"I don't know. I have never been down that road." What? My eyes widened. I shot him a sudden glance. You are kidding, right?

"Why would I lie to you?" Did I say that loud? Fuck. Whatever. But no way in hell is he telling the truth. But his eyes say otherwise, though. And even if he does, how stupid of me to think he would disclose his love life to me.

"Do you?" His voice deepened.

"No." Not anymore. And it's not because of that asshole. My heart was broken way before he happened. Not every girl's heart is first broken by a boy. He just came into my life, entered my heart with a mallet, destroyed the remaining scattered pieces and walked away after leaving behind its frits with me. "It's just an illusion."

"But I know somebody who will have a real discussion with you on your theory."

"Who?" I was curious.

"My Mom and Dad." He said with a tiny smile. Yeah, you heard it right. He smiled, but others won't count it as one, but when something like that comes from him, it is totally a miracle, making us stop and stare.