Imperfect

22. Talk To Me

Talk To Me by Cavetown

Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep

Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams

It's so dark tonight but you'll survive certainly

It's alright, come inside, and talk to me

Ashlye

I've seen people like Kay, I think. So in control yet so broken and everything's just a façade. Flashes of color, bright and sharp, a little too sharp that they sting. They stand out and I can't push them away, nothing jerks me out of them as Kayla walks next to me, silent.

A girl with her little brother, crossing the road. He drops something and her reddish brown eyes flicker shut, face scrunched up in concentration, just for a second, as he picks it up. A car comes to a screeching halt in front of them, it shouldn't have been able to stop in time. Fear overwhelms her face and she closes her eyes again, composing herself, as if fixing her mask to make sure it's perfect. Kayla used to do that, I think to myself.

Then, a little boy, well not so little in the way that he holds himself with quiet resignment in his eyes, knowing that there's nothing he can do to change what he's going through. He tags after an older girl, his sister probably. As he crushes grass under his feet as he cuts through the park, they don't spring back but instead lie wilted. He seems to be aware of this and his expression reminds me of Kay, Kay who believes that there are no do-overs.

Other images pour in, faster and I can barely focus on them but each one stands out brightly in their different way.

A teen, maybe 17, holding out his hand as if he's letting some invisible force coil around his arm. A gash on his upper arm fades to almost nothing.

A woman, inhaling sharply when a child bursts into tears near her. Her eyes shut as emotion, the child's emotion, overwhelms her.

There are more, so many more.

How could I not have noticed? All these people, with their gifts. Gifts... But they are burdens too, curses to some. I sneak a glance at Kay, both of us still walking in unusual silence. Her eyes dart around, more wary than curious like they used to be. Her blue eyes are mixed in with a tangle of gold, scared, worried.

It'll be fine, I tell her.

Kayla looks up and laughs bitterly. Nothing's fine, Ashlye, haven't you learnt that by now?

I honestly don't know how to reply.

I'm sorry. I tell her. She takes a breath and stops walking.

I'm the one who should be sorry, Ash, she says quietly. I really didn't know how to face myself and what I had done. I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I broke my promise, didn't I? I promised to be there for you, and what did I do? I told you that my father died, didn't I? She pauses here. Ash, you're going to be shocked by whatever I'm going to tell you, and I want you to know that I've never hated myself as much as I did when I did this. I really didn't plan this, but all the years of hate and pain and fear, it overwhelms you and makes you do crazy things. Please don't hate me, Ash, please. I did something unspeakable. I look at her, and ask:

What did you do, Kay? My thoughts are jumbled together in my mind, and I can't piece them together. Kayla avoids my eyes, and says,

Promise you won't hate me.

I stall, not knowing what to say. Kayla looks at me, her eyes pleading, please, Ash. I nod slowly.

Tell me what happened, Kayla. She looks away again. And when she finally speaks, it's so quiet I can barely hear, and what I can catch makes me think that I actually did hear wrong.

My father didn't just die of an overdose. He died because I gave him an overdose.