The Terrible Trial of Kennedy Abrams (Treadmill II)

XVII

I should probably head back now.

Kennedy checked her watch. 8:41 AM. Rebecca hadn't called her to see where she was. Maybe she hadn't woken up yet. Or maybe she didn't care whether or not Kennedy died on the side of the street. Hopefully the former. Probably the latter.

She stood up from the cold steel playground bench below her, wincing slightly as a gust of wind hit her exposed skin. She should have worn a coat, but she hadn't thought about it before leaving Rebecca's apartment that morning. She had just wanted to get out and started walking in a random direction, until she ended up at a playground behind an elementary school.

Kennedy sat on the playground bench for an hour, staring off into space and thinking about how little she had to be grateful for this holiday season. She felt as if everyone had teamed up against her for some reason and she just couldn't figure out why. Maybe if she could figure out why, then she would have some sort of clarity on why everything was just so incredibly awful. And when it would stop being that way.

She started walking back in the vague direction of Rebecca's apartment, still a bit miffed at the fact that Rebecca hadn't reached out to see if she was alive. She was cold, but not freezing, and the pajama pants she had borrowed from Rebecca were too short on her, so her ankles were hit with every puddle she stepped in.

She didn't remember it taking this long to get to the playground from Rebecca's apartment earlier that morning. Or perhaps she was just lost and didn't want to accept it yet.

Kennedy was about to give in and call Rebecca when she noticed a familiar spot a few blocks ahead of her. The apartment was only a few minutes away, and she silently berated herself for almost allowing Rebecca to see even a moment of vulnerability.

She walked in the front door of Rebecca's apartment ten minutes later and saw Rebecca sitting at the kitchen table, sipping something out of a mug and scrolling aimlessly through her phone. Rebecca turned her head when the door opened and Kennedy didn't say a word as she closed it behind her. She wasn't sure whether or not she was upset that Rebecca hadn't reached out—after all, she had tried to frame her for murder.

"Where were you?" Rebecca asked, glancing up from her phone I'm looking incredibly uninterested in where Kennedy had actually been, "I saw your note."

"Well, you didn't seem to read it very well." Kennedy replied coolly, rubbing her hands together to try and warm them up, "I went to a playground and just sat there for a little bit. It was good to clear my head."

"And you did that in 40 degree weather with no coat?" Rebecca raised her eyebrows, "I feel like that would be more miserable than therapeutic."

Kennedy shrugged, becoming more and more irritated with Rebecca as the conversation went on, "Well, it was therapeutic for me. Do you check your phone when you wake up in the middle of the night?"

Rebecca seems startled at the abrupt change in the topic of conversation. "Yeah, I usually check it when I wake up in the middle of the night. I guess I just didn't wake up that much last night, or I would have seen your texts."

Kennedy nodded, not trying to hide the fact that she didn't believe Rebecca.

"Sure, that sounds believable. Not made up at all." She sighed and headed for Rebecca's room, "I'm going to head to the gym. Can I borrow some workout clothes?"

She was already in Rebecca's room when Rebecca replied with a faint 'yes,' not really caring about what the answer was. She grabbed the largest sports bra she could find and a pair of shorts that she knew she would end up regretting when she stepped foot outside and walked out the front door five minutes after she had walked in.