Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“I’m the one who left her alone in the first place.” His eyes find mine. “She was losing it. Crying, which I expected. But she was angry and hysterical.”
This wouldn’t have been in the file. Even if I’d read it, this statement from Kamden wouldn’t have been in there. He wouldn’t be telling me now if he assumed I already knew about it. It comes back to me then—Ella telling me that everything in the file was carefully curated. I thought she meant she did it all by herself, but Kamden must have had a hand too. He must have kept out certain details.
“You left her alone because she was upset?” I shake my head, my own guilt rising again. I did the same thing. I let Quincy walk through the city by herself. I want to convince Kamden it wasn’t his fault as much as I want to convince myself, but lies don’t help a damn soul.
“No. I left her alone, and I took her phone. So she had no one. I took her phone,” he repeats as if the phone is what did her in. “She couldn’t call anyone … but she couldn’t have it. It was driving her mad.”
None of this makes any sense. “Why the hell would you take her phone?”
He’s looking into the fireplace again, and I almost wish I’d turned the damn thing on so he wouldn’t look so desolate while he stares into nothing. Kamden takes a trip back into his memories and resurfaces with a shake of his head. “They kept posting it. The video. It was all over her social. They kept tagging her, over and over again. Every time she saw one pop up, she lost it.”
“Posting the video?”
“Ella kept watching it over and over. Someone would tag her and the whole cycle would start again. She couldn’t stop herself. She’d play the video and cry. Gut-wrenching sobs. All day. After a few hours she’d manage to collect herself, but it would only be for a few minutes. An hour at most. And then she went back to the video. Back and back and back. When it was at its worst she would beg people to stop posting, but they wouldn’t. Asking them to take it down only made more people share the link. It was vicious. She had nowhere to go. Maybe you don’t get it, but sharing everything with them … she couldn’t back away and they wouldn’t let her.”
I’m missing a crucial piece of information, and for the first time I feel a real, genuine regret that I haven’t read her file. I haven’t done everything in my power to learn about Ella. I’m against it in general because I think people need the chance to tell their own stories, but this is a part of it that she’s yet to confide in me.
I didn’t know about the suicide attempt at her old place. I didn’t know she jumped out of a fucking window. And Kamden thinks she did that because of some people posting about her. No—posting a video. I’ve seen some videos, but—
“What were they posting?”
Kamden meets my eyes with deep disappointment. Somehow, the tables have turned since he walked into this room. “You want to make me the villain in all this because you’re pissed off at me, but I’m not the villain. You might be, though.”
“What got to her—” I stop and take a deep breath. I won’t let my anger get the best of me. I won’t even talk myself up into thinking I haven’t made any mistakes. “What did they post that made her that upset?” It has to do with James. It’s the only thing I can imagine. The realization is suffocating.
Kamden looks down at his hands in his lap, then back up to me. “You should ask her.” He shakes his head then adds, “No. You should already know.”
Ella
I haven’t looked forward to Damon and his chats. It’s something I’ve tolerated because I was told I had to do it. Therapy isn’t something I’ve ever wanted. Until this morning.
Waking up to find another gift from Kam, glazed pastries from a quaint French bakery downtown, and a note from Zander, letting me know he had to have arrangements made but would see me tonight … left me feeling more alone than I’d have liked. Barefoot in the kitchen, that sinking feeling resonated until Damon walked into the room.
“Is there anything you want to talk about this morning?” Damon’s professional as always, but I don’t miss his subtle change in expression when he glances down at my nightgown. It’s the same one from yesterday. I was eager to get downstairs, to find Zander and didn’t think much else of, well, of anything else.
“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to pick those topics?”