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    Well, it's out now, I guess. My brain is connecting the dots, dotting those I's and, well, telling me it told me so. Somehow, I knew. Deep down, beneath the flower and soil of grief and pain, down at my roots, I knew as Cameron and I grew closer those days. When I woke up on the beach and saw only Cameron when I was saved, during the ambulance ride where I was confused as fuck, and all I could see was him wringing his hands as they drove us to the hospital, I knew. That moment before we were interrupted and he was about to say it, I knew. When we kissed and had sex, I knew. Even the day after, after we slept together again, and I chickened out, I chickened out because I knew. There was this knowledge in me that if I stayed, there would be an us and I would forever feel guilty. Whether it happened that day or in the future, I would feel guilty.

"I know," I admit. "The main reason I left was because I knew, I just didn't want you to admit it. If you told me, there'd be something there. Elliott wasn't even... it hadn't been long and I didn't know how to handle these feelings I had. It felt so wrong. Everything did. Being close to you when I realised myself that these weren't feelings I should've been having for not only someone else after Elliott died, but for my brother's best friend. It was all sorts of wrong."

He stays silent and sips his beer, but his eyes don't leave my vicinity. They're not judging, but I can feel their hot stare, deciphering what I'm saying, dissecting every movement and sound I make, watching every tear stain my face that I can't control.

I don't even know where these words are coming from. It's like vomit; admissions that I can't stop, no matter if I want to or not. Six years to think, a whole relationship and a revenge-jilted wedding are making me spill everything, I suppose.

The words are a surprise to me as I say them, but they're also not because I've had nights where I've thought about nothing else, despite Courtney sleeping beside me. There have been days where I've longed to call Cameron and discuss the past with him, even though I've been with my then-fiancé. Weekends when we'd go down to Bournemouth to visit my family, I longed to be confronted secretly by Cameron just so we could maybe kiss and make up. Except at the time, that was hidden by a layer of awkwardness and not wanting to see him because of everything that happened.

This is and always has been a situationship, just without casual sex. It's something messy that needs weeding, and I guess that's what we're doing now.

When he came to give me those photos of Courtney and Lily, I wasn't surprised deep down, not really. She was getting more and more absent physically from me – excuses to stay late at work, afternoons where she had to 'work' that I've no doubt were a shitty excuse to go see my sister. I just carried on oblivious, and I wonder if it's because I knew it wasn't right at all. I also wonder if my lack of upset and desire to just get revenge was because of that knowledge as well because all I could feel was a sense of relief deep down.

But now, there's nothing between us to have this conversation. There's grief, oh there is always grief for Elliott, but that's not fresh. No longer am I in a relationship, so I can be as candid as I like. Which is actually way less candid than this, but apparently my brain and mouth aren't connected right now.

I carry on. "Even now, anything I do makes a small part of me wonder if I'm doing the wrong thing because of him and his memory, but I also know I can't live in that shadow anymore. He would want me to move forward – long ago – and be happy for me. You're right; he's gone. Wherever he is, he's not in pain anymore, and I have to in a way live for him. Be the happy he wanted to be. In his letter to me, he told me he was also doing it for me to be free, so I didn't have to be the girlfriend with a depressed and PTSD-ridden boyfriend—"

"Kenna, that's an awful thing to put on you. Dead or not."

I shake my head. "I'm not saying it for that. Hell, I didn't take it that way. I know what he means, and I get it. But my point is—"

"No, no, you shouldn't have to take that any way at all. I have depression and, holy fuck, I would never say that to someone."

"Cameron, please, just listen."

He nods. "Fine, but I'm not okay with that."

I ignore the comment because I get it, but what's saying that going to do when he's dead? "My point is, I guess it really was me, not you."

Cameron laughs and sips his beer. He shakes his head and moves to sit on the edge of the sofa in the lounge area. I bought some logs for the fire that's opposite him when it turns dark, and I'm wondering if I should cut the tension by doing that now. It could be slashed with a fucking knife right now. I just don't know if this is pissed-off tension or sexual tension, or what. Apparently, I am awful at reading this right now; probably because I know what's going to be aired the moment he asks about it.

"The worst part of it is that I have spent the last six years wondering where I stood. Was I just a way for you to release your grief questionably, or was I something to you? I've spent the last six years being depressed on and off, and in those darkest moments, I've sat there and wondered how this shit could push Elliott to do what he did – not every diagnosis of depression means you're suicidal – and I didn't even know. It's been a mind fuck, Kenna. But the past six years I've also wondered, did you ever feel anything for me? Were you just using me?" His words are all over the place, but I get why. The whole thing is just wrapped up in one messy fucking package. Elliott, us sleeping together, our apparent feelings for each other, Courtney's cheating, why we're here now.

"I did. The reason ultimately why I left was because I couldn't take this burdening secret anymore. People know I know, well, apart from his parents, and I'm sick of being asked about it. I was so sick of not being able to grieve because people thought I was evil for not telling them or getting him help. Then it became clear from the moment you saved me that this was not normal. Had I stayed, I would've felt guilty. It was too early, and I would've sat there questioning whether I should've acted on these feelings or whether I was grieving." I stand from the chair and pull at my hair for a second. This isn't how I pictured this going, and I've said far more than I thought I would.

"You did, past tense?" Cameron asks. "For the record, I get it. Thinking about it, I probably would've felt the same. That's also forgetting the whole brother's best friend thing. But... had you just talked to me about those feelings, any of it, we could've sorted it."

I snort and turn away for a second. "That's easier said than done when you're in the middle of a literal breakdown, Cameron. I had no idea what these feelings were; dissecting them for six years makes it easy to sit there and pinpoint it, say what you should've done, but I wasn't thinking straight back then." A sigh escapes my mouth before I turn back to face him. "I could apologise for the rest of my life, and it wouldn't even come close to how sorry I am for what I did to you. Fleeing did a lot to my family and me, but it did so much more to you, and I'm so sorry for it. But it's done, and part of me will also never regret it because it stopped me from starting something with you that I didn't want to fuck up because you deserve so much more than that."

"Kenna, don't tell me what I deserve."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "You deserve so much better than a grieving nineteen-year-old who had no idea what she was doing, how she felt and had her feelings mixed up on so many levels. I'll stand by that till the end of time. I needed to leave to clear my head of everything."

He stands and stares out of the back door. A squirrel is running across the patio. He goes up a tree and disappears in the leaves, probably to find peace and food. Maybe his home is up there – I have no idea where they go to sleep at night. Animals don't have the same intellect that humans do, and as my eyes try to find that squirrel, I wish I wasn't a developed mammal like a human. A simple life like they have, or that of a cat, a dog, or a goldfish would be a nice relief for a change.

I wonder if animals are developed enough to understand that we're different from them. Cats, dogs and other pets recognise their human's voice, so I wonder if they recognise we're superior to them in development? What is it that makes us so fundamentally different? Is it a soul? If it was, surely every living thing has a soul.

Humans love, and that's one difference. We love, we hurt emotionally; we feel emotions differently. That's what I wish I didn't have for a while. This hurts, it's sending me back to those long nights of regret, of crying into my pillow for so many reasons, for wishing I could turn back time and change everything, for wishing I'd got Elliott more help, for wishing I could take things back.

But I can't, and I have to deal with the things I did for right or wrong. I have to deal with the things I don't and do regret, and face them now. Being an animal might be a simple escape, but if I came back, it wouldn't erase those things.

I take a breath. "I'll tell you what happened."

His head turns slowly until we're looking into each other's eyes. Words aren't exchanged; they don't need to be. He knows.

One deep breath in, let it release. My eyes move away and stare at the small gap in the trees where the sun is setting. There's no way I can look at him when I say this. "This is the first time it's been said since he told me. I've told no one since. Well, apart from the police."

Cameron nods. "Take your time."

Is this what betrayal feels like? I know what it feels like to be betrayed, but until now, I never thought I could do the betraying. Looking back, though, I suppose I have. I betrayed Elliott – not romantically – and I betrayed Cameron by running. Though, those weren't technically betrayals. Doing what I did at the wedding ceremony last week was in a very loose manner. This feels worse, though, but I know he's gone, and he won't mind. There's nothing that can happen and it's not really a betrayal anymore, even if it feels like in the depths of my soul.

Maybe it's not that it's a betrayal, it's the nature of this betrayal. It's the one thing in my life I've vowed to never do because it's one of Elliott's last wishes to me. Now, I'll be going back on that, but for a reason. It's a betrayal of a vow, but with any vow, till death do you part, I guess, and it's my problem to get over. If he were watching, or if he were here, I'd like to think he would understand. Hell, I know he would've told me to move on with my life quicker than I did.

"If I do that, I won't say it." I take another breath. Whatever sexual or romantic tension was in the room between Cameron and me is sizzling out. The heat's been turned off, and it's just cooling down now. Once I've said this, though, it'll be dissolved and turned to ash. Part of me wants to leave it hanging in the air so we can pick up and I don't have to say this. But I know I do; I have to do this. "When Elliott and I were sixteen... he..." I breathe again. "He was sexually abused by one of our teachers." 

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