Free Sins & Secrets by Jessica Sorensen Page B

worst in my opinion, especially when you cause it, which I did, and now I’m paying for it. It kills me everyday, what I did, the man’s life that I took and I don’t think I’ve even fully dealt with it yet, too focused on running, which makes it easier to stay in denial.

    Run.

    Run.

    Run.

    Run away from your problems.

    “Lola, you can’t keep going on like this,” my Aunt Glady tells me on the phone, which she tells me every time I check in. She’s my mother’s sister but doesn’t remind me of my mother at all, which is good because I don’t think I’d be able to talk to her as much, the painful reminder too great. “Going into hiding isn’t going to do you any good.”

    “Are you sure about that?” I ask with the disposable phone pressed to my ear, the kind that are harder to track and easier to replace. “It might have saved my mom if she’d done it.”

    “Honey, I know you think you’re life is in danger,” my Aunt Glady says. “But you’re father will protect you.”

    “My father caused this. Because of him, I have blood on my hands,” I snap bitterly as I peer out the window of the apartment I’ve been staying in for the last two months. It’s in no way my home but it’s fitting; cold, empty, just like my soul.

    “I don’t know exactly what happened back in Boston,” my Aunt Glady says. “Since you won’t tell me, but I know for a fact that your father will protect you know matter what.”

    “I don’t want his protection nor do I trust him at all.” Don’t trust anyone. Layton had told me this.

    I move back to the window and sink down on the bed. It’s one of the few things I have at the moment—a bed, a pillow, a few clothes. Anything more would be too much. “I don’t want anything from my father ever again.” It’s the truth. Something inside me died the day I killed a man to save my father. And that part seems to be connected to my emotions. For the most part, I feel nothing anymore. Emotionally detached. I feel nothing but this hollowness inside me.

    “Fine, but you still really need to go home even if it’s just for a day or two. You can do it discretely—no one will have to know.” There’s something in her voice this time that makes me wonder if she’s keeping something from me.

    “Why are you pushing this so hard?” I ask. “I mean, I know you’ve been pushing me to stop running since I took off a couple of months ago, but today you’re being extra pushy so what gives Glady? Fess up. You’ve never been good at keeping secrets anyway.”

    She sighs heavy heartedly. “Lola, do you ever check in at home… with anyone?”

    Lying down on the bed, I squeeze my eyes shut as a feel a ping of homesickness, not for my father, but for the few people I did care about. My few friends, a couple of my bodyguards, Layton . “No, it wouldn’t be smart… the people looking for me... I’m sure they’re watching the people I’d contact.”

    “What about…. What about Layton? Do you ever talk to him?”

    The ping of homesickness erupts into straight up heartache. “No, he’s the last person I can contact,” I say a hint of emotion sneaking into my tone. I miss Layton—miss everything about him. Even though I still have no idea where his allies stand, I can’t forget about him stepping in and shooting someone for me, not can I forget all the years we were friends.

    It’s been two months since Layton and I parted paths that cold night in front of my house. The night he kissed me with desperation then told me to run for my life after we’d both committed murder. “Run away. It’s the only way you’ll survive this. Run away and never look back. It’s what your mother should have done,” were the last words he said. I thought about contact him a few times, but can’t seem to bring myself to do it, knowing it’d be a stupid move. If Layton hasn’t gotten in trouble with Frankie and the Dellefontes and is still around Boston, then I know for