having a bad day is all."
I turn and head to the living room without waiting for a reply, knowing he will just follow me without an invitation inside.
And I am right, because he's practically at my heels. "No way, Paige. You have to tell me something. I promise I will not judge you. If you need help, you can ask me. You know that right?"
I whirl around to face him and angrily hold my right hand up in the air. "I don't need any help, Brady. I just need you to be my friend and not ask so many questions, okay? Can you please just--"
I don't finish my sentence when I see what's been left for me in front of the couch. I missed it before because you have to walk around the couch from the hall to sit down.
There is a doll with features eerily similar to my own laying there, and a gun is positioned in her hand with what looks like blood extending out from the gun and covering a large area of the rug. Like the pool of blood you might find next to the body of someone who had been shot in the head.
The gun is mine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Between dodging Elyse and trying to dissuade Brady from asking more questions about the terrifying little doll and the gun in my apartment, Saturday feels like the best thing that ever happened to me. I sleep until ten thirty. When I am finally awake, I remain in bed and enjoy the quiet calm of my bedroom. When I go to sleep on Friday or Saturday night, I leave my phone in another room so that calls, texts, or anything else that may make my phone go off can't bother me. I don't think it's good to be available every moment of your life.
Finally, around noon, I shower and get myself dressed. I've got plenty of studying to do today and I'd like to get it done in time to watch the Ohio State game at 7. One of the few good memories I have from back home is watching college football with my father and Nicole when we were little. My parents met at Ohio State, and although American football isn't big in Ukraine, my father loves it. I think he tried very hard to make himself fit in to American culture as much as possible, given that the conditions he grew up in were less than desirable. If it had not been for my grandmother meeting an American business man by chance about two years after she was widowed, my father would have stayed there and lived a very different life. And, while not really in the same league, I can understand how difficult it is to move to a completely new place at the age of eighteen, where you don't know anyone. At least I know the language. He did not.
Before heading to the library, I make a phone call that I desperately need to make.
"This is Kelly Sullivan."
I take a deep breath. "Dr. Sullivan, it's me."
I hear some shuffling noises, and a muttered curse. "Hold on. Do not hang up. I just need to go somewhere a bit more private, okay?"
"I'm not hanging up," I say.
A few minutes of muffled noises and she returns. "I've been worried about you, Kid. I didn't expect you to just run off like that and not tell anyone where you went. Is everything okay?"
"Honestly, I don't know. Some strange things have been happening lately."
There is a pause, and I can practically hear her thinking. "Remember what I told you? You have to remove yourself from the situation before you get overwhelmed by the memory of someone that is no longer here. Your perception of Nicole is still skewed, Kid. I told you from the get go, you can't idealize people, no matter how much you love them. When you think of your sister, picture her as person with real flaws, just like everyone else. You still get too caught up in the way she was as a sister, and who she was to everyone else."
I sigh. "I try. I really do. It's just that sometimes, I miss her so much that I want to pretend she's still here so it won't hurt so much."
"I know it's hard, but you have to concentrate on your own well-being now. You have to have a life, and she can't be such a big part of it or you'll never really move on. And you haven't yet, have
I turn and head to the living room without waiting for a reply, knowing he will just follow me without an invitation inside.
And I am right, because he's practically at my heels. "No way, Paige. You have to tell me something. I promise I will not judge you. If you need help, you can ask me. You know that right?"
I whirl around to face him and angrily hold my right hand up in the air. "I don't need any help, Brady. I just need you to be my friend and not ask so many questions, okay? Can you please just--"
I don't finish my sentence when I see what's been left for me in front of the couch. I missed it before because you have to walk around the couch from the hall to sit down.
There is a doll with features eerily similar to my own laying there, and a gun is positioned in her hand with what looks like blood extending out from the gun and covering a large area of the rug. Like the pool of blood you might find next to the body of someone who had been shot in the head.
The gun is mine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Between dodging Elyse and trying to dissuade Brady from asking more questions about the terrifying little doll and the gun in my apartment, Saturday feels like the best thing that ever happened to me. I sleep until ten thirty. When I am finally awake, I remain in bed and enjoy the quiet calm of my bedroom. When I go to sleep on Friday or Saturday night, I leave my phone in another room so that calls, texts, or anything else that may make my phone go off can't bother me. I don't think it's good to be available every moment of your life.
Finally, around noon, I shower and get myself dressed. I've got plenty of studying to do today and I'd like to get it done in time to watch the Ohio State game at 7. One of the few good memories I have from back home is watching college football with my father and Nicole when we were little. My parents met at Ohio State, and although American football isn't big in Ukraine, my father loves it. I think he tried very hard to make himself fit in to American culture as much as possible, given that the conditions he grew up in were less than desirable. If it had not been for my grandmother meeting an American business man by chance about two years after she was widowed, my father would have stayed there and lived a very different life. And, while not really in the same league, I can understand how difficult it is to move to a completely new place at the age of eighteen, where you don't know anyone. At least I know the language. He did not.
Before heading to the library, I make a phone call that I desperately need to make.
"This is Kelly Sullivan."
I take a deep breath. "Dr. Sullivan, it's me."
I hear some shuffling noises, and a muttered curse. "Hold on. Do not hang up. I just need to go somewhere a bit more private, okay?"
"I'm not hanging up," I say.
A few minutes of muffled noises and she returns. "I've been worried about you, Kid. I didn't expect you to just run off like that and not tell anyone where you went. Is everything okay?"
"Honestly, I don't know. Some strange things have been happening lately."
There is a pause, and I can practically hear her thinking. "Remember what I told you? You have to remove yourself from the situation before you get overwhelmed by the memory of someone that is no longer here. Your perception of Nicole is still skewed, Kid. I told you from the get go, you can't idealize people, no matter how much you love them. When you think of your sister, picture her as person with real flaws, just like everyone else. You still get too caught up in the way she was as a sister, and who she was to everyone else."
I sigh. "I try. I really do. It's just that sometimes, I miss her so much that I want to pretend she's still here so it won't hurt so much."
"I know it's hard, but you have to concentrate on your own well-being now. You have to have a life, and she can't be such a big part of it or you'll never really move on. And you haven't yet, have
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