Page 59 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
Sophie and Jess were close, just like Jo and I are. It saddens me they lost that connection because of me. It saddens me even more to know Jessika is in rehab because she never recovered.
I don’t know how my visit with her will go. But I do know I have to do it. I owe her at least that much. I owe them all at least that much.
We chat to Sophie for a few more hours, and she tells us about her boyfriend, Ian, and how good they are together. Then we all exchange numbers and she promises to call when she’s in the city and catch up with us.
When we’re back in the car, and driving home, Jo turns to me and says, “That went surprisingly well.”
“I kind of always knew Sophie wouldn’t be horrible; it’s Jessika I was concerned about. Now, I’m even more worried about how it’ll go.”
“Jess has always been rougher around the edges. Sometimes I think maybe this would have been her path, even without the accident.”
Jo could be right, however, my actions accelerated things that she didn’t deserve.
“She did have a pretty rough life, didn’t she?” I say, remembering the times we used to go to her house, and her dad and mom would be drunk and rambling. She lived pretty hard, but that doesn’t mean she deserved to go down the path she did.
“She did,” Jo agrees, “but either way, you’re doing the right thing. You can’t hold blame forever. You honestly can’t. We all played a part in what went down that night. We were all carrying on and not paying attention. I’ve thought about it a million times, and honestly, it could have been any of us behind that wheel. It was an accident.”
She’s right about that, but it doesn’t take away the guilt that I’ve lived with since that moment, the guilt that’ll never fully leave me. I’ve accepted that, and through acceptance, I’ve learned to deal with it, but it wasn’t easy. Some days, it’s stronger than I am. Some days, it eats away at me. Somehow, though, I always fight it back.
Somehow, I always come out on top.
Somehow.
“YES, JESSIKA IS STILL with us.” The woman at the reception desk nods. “Are you family?”
“We’re old friends, but if she’s allowed visitors, we’d love to see her,” I say, rubbing my palms together nervously.
I hope the woman doesn’t notice and get suspicious, because I’m that full of anxiety, no doubt I look like I shouldn’t be in here. Thankfully, Jo takes over when we’re asked to sign in and told how the visiting works. We have to go over a lot of questions, they’re certainly not going to just let us in.
We’re then led outside into a beautiful garden. We take a seat on a park bench and wait as the lady informs Jessika that she has some visitors. I rub my knees as we wait, wondering how the hell this is going to go. Maybe she’s over it, too. Maybe she’ll forgive me like Sophie did. Maybe she won’t even hear me out and will demand I leave. I don’t know. All I know is that I am going to follow this through, even if it kills me.
“Well, well.” A bitter voice comes from behind us, and we both turn to see Jessika coming towards us, cane in hand. “I wondered when you’d show your face to me.”
She looks terrible.
I stare at her in shock as I take in her pale grey skin, the way her eyes seem to sink, making her cheekbones look huge, and the way her once gorgeous blond hair is so dull it resembles straw. Her body is skinny, and she’s missing more than three or four teeth; the rest are yellow and rotting.
It feels like a punch in the stomach to see her like this. To know this was my fault.
“Jessika,” I say, my voice betraying the calm I’m holding on the outside. “I’m glad you agreed to see us.”
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time. How was prison, Callie? Did they make your life a living hell? I truly hope they did.”
God. She really does hate me.
“And Jo, still sticking by her, I see. I figured as much.”
I ignore her nasty comment and say, “I came here to apologize to you for what happened that night. I know it really affected your life, and I want you to know that I never intended that to happen. I would have never hurt anyone, and I hope you know that.”
I know she’s not going to accept this, but it feels good to say it anyway.
“But you did hurt someone,” she seethes. “You hurt me, and you killed a girl who didn’t deserve to die. Do you have any idea what it has been like, losing my leg at a young age? Do you know what your actions did to me?”
