The Dead House - Kurtagich Dawn - Страница 60
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John continues to watch, until one violent start wakes her and she begins to cry. He hesitates, then hurries to her side, and she allows herself to be taken into his embrace.
“I wish you would stop this,” he whispers.
She sniffs. “What?”
“You know what, Kaitie.”
She pulls back, looks up at him. “I’m fine.”
“We’re worried.”
“Who’re we?”
“That Brett guy. He came to ask me to talk to you. Get you to leave this Mala-Grundi stuff alone.”
“Brett doesn’t know anything. He’s an idiot.”
“At least he seems to give a shit about you. You need to stay away from this, Kait. Seriously, stop it. Before something bad happens to you as well.”
Kaitlyn pushes him away, but cries out as her arms make impact. “I have to,” she breathes, “have to save my sister. You don’t know—you never met her. But she’s the better me. You’d like her, you would. I need her, John.” She shakes her head. “I need her.”
“Let her go. Please… I’m begging you. This thing—it’s bigger than us. You could get someone killed. You could be killed. Is she worth that?”
“Yes!” Her eyes narrow as she regards him. “You’re just assuming things will go wrong. But they won’t. They can’t. Trust me.”
“They’ve already gone wrong. Your friend Naida? I’ve never seen anything like that. I think…” His voice trails off, and he looks down at his hands.
Kaitlyn folds her arms over her chest. The gesture comes off as more vulnerable than defiant. “You think what?”
He meets her gaze. “I think you need to contact Dr. Lansing.”
There’s a beat of silence before Kaitlyn whispers, “What?”
“I’m thinking of calling her.”
She’s on her feet in a moment, her hands balled into fists at her side. “Get away from me.”
“Stop this.”
“Judas,” she spits. “Fuck you! Go back to Lansing? Have them lock me up like a dog?”
“I thought you were… I don’t know. Better.”
“Not this again! You told me that I didn’t belong there!”
John gets to his feet too, tries to reach for Kaitlyn.
“You—you,” she yells, “you think I’m crazy!”
“Kaitlyn, I don’t think you’re crazy. But you need… something. I don’t know what. I… this is dangerous for you. You need to leave Carly where she is”—he raises his hands—“and claim your life.”
“No—”
“Listen—”
“I’m nothing without her!”
“Listen!”
“I can’t survive—she’s the best part! I’m nothing on my own—”
“Kaitlyn, stop!”
“You can’t take her away—”
“What about your parents, Kait?”
A ringing silence follows his exclamation, and the dripping water in the distance—drip, drip, drip—seems suddenly louder.
“What… what do you mean?”
John frowns. “The accident? What you told me that night?”
Kaitlyn shakes her head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything that happened.”
“I was there. I was there that night. You told me to come over. We were going to the orchestra, remember? Your dad was playing. You wanted your parents to meet me. Does any of this ring a bell?”
She shakes her head again.
“We were in the car, and you and your dad started arguing. You were sitting up front so your mum could hold your dad’s trombone case and keep an eye on Jaime, who was sitting on the other side of her. She kept trying to get you to stop yelling, and I guess he was distracted… We crashed.”
“It was a car crash?”
“Your dad was thrown out, and I broke a fair few ribs and my collarbone. That trombone case saved me. Remember that accident and the reason I lost track of you?”
“You said an accident… I didn’t know it was the accident that…”
“Yeah. Your mum… she got the brunt of the impact. She was in the middle. There was never any chance she’d survive that.”
Kaitlyn swallows. “What did I tell you? You said I told you something that night.”
John hesitates. “Kaitie, please—”
“Tell me, John, so help me God!”
“You’re too fragile for this.”
“Talk about a volte-face. What happened to ‘you’re strong,’ huh? What happened to our pact—always honesty? You liar!” Kaitlyn’s voice breaks, but she keeps yelling in a broken half voice. “You’re like everyone else—you traitor, get away from me!” She tries to shove him, but he is like a big wall in front of her. She laughs, once. “I’m an idiot! I needed you, but I am crazy, after all, for ever trusting you—”
John grabs her, and she pushes away and spins as though to run out the door—but he has her upper arms, and she simply bounces back against his chest. He closes his arms around her, pinning her to him.
“Geddoffme!” she screams, trying to break free. “Let me go!”
“Shh, calm down. It’s okay—shh, Kaitie, shh!”
Sobbing, she kicks his shin, and John stumbles back a pace but keeps hold of her.
With one violent yank, he yells, “Kaitie, stop! You told me—you told me you were glad. You said that right to my face, while they were scraping your dad off the road!”
Kaitlyn stills, but continues to sob garbled words that fall from her lips like drool—among them “liar” and “not true” and “you promised.” Eventually she settles into a kind of half slump in his arms. He maneuvers her to the mattress.
“I’m sorry,” John says, stroking her hair. “I think you need help.”
“I need Carly. I need her. If it’s true… if I really said that I was glad they were dead… then she’s the better one. The best Johnson girl, and she can come back and have this life, and I can disappear. I need this, can’t you understand?”
John doesn’t answer. Instead, he deflects. “Don’t you remember being covered in blood?”
Blood on my hands. There was blood on my hands. [Diary extract: Sunday, 7 November 2004, 7:00 PM]
“No.”
“You got out of the car that night… you stumbled over to where your dad was lying on the road, and you knelt beside him… there was so much of his blood on the road already. You said something to him, and he reached out for you, but you just got up, covered in all that red… and stumbled away.”
“I was probably in shock or something.”
“Except, when the paramedics had me in the ambulance, you told me. You told me it was the best night of your life. You were so… happy.”
“Please, just… get away from me.”
“Kaitlyn, please…”
She retches, then coughs. “You said you would never hurt me. You promised.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Traitor.”
“I don’t want to, but I will if I have to. Because I need to help you. You’re sick.”
Kaitlyn pauses, and then slowly lifts her eyes to stare at him for a full five seconds before they widen in alarm. “You…”
“What? What is it?”
“John… please, just leave me alone.”
“DH—” This time when he grabs her, it is her left forearm, the wounds covered by her long sleeves.
She screams.
“What?”
Hunched over, she manages to whisper, “Leave me alone! I want to be alone.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll be by in the morning. Please don’t do anything stupid.”
He leaves, at which point Kaitlyn reaches for her journal with shaking fingers.
[END OF CLIP]
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Friday, 28 January 2005
Basement
You bitch. You’ve always known, haven’t you?
I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!!!
Later
I never wanted them dead! What kind of a sick monster would want her own parents to DIE? It’s impossible! How could I ever—
It’s a lie! Do you understand me? There’s an explanation for this—I don’t want it to be true! It would break me anew if he… if John…
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