The moment she caught sight of the ink at the base of her back, she’d been overcome with a wave of sickness unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She didn’t know if she should tell anyone.
When she showed it to Randall, asking him if it had been a joke, he’d told her it was in part of her memories where he wasn’t in her life.
The two years she’d been taken, where her body showed the evidence of the abuse that her mind couldn’t. She rubbed at her temple, wanting nothing more than to cry. It would be so much easier to give up. Everyone kept looking at her as if she was some kind of strong woman or something. The truth was, she was close to falling apart, holding on by a thread.
“Are you okay?” Preacher asked.
She lifted her head and sighed. “I don’t know.” She sniffled. “Do you like my room?”
He carried a large brown box. “It’ll look better with some of this.” He put the box on the floor in front of her.
“Please, don’t go,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital?”
“Hell, no. I’m sorry. I mean no, I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“Will you be okay here?”
“I think so.”
“Any memories?”
“Nothing. Not even an inkling of one. It’s more like … a feeling. I do know this place. It’s right there but not close enough for me to be entirely sure what I’m looking at. I know, I’m going completely crazy, aren’t I?”
“You’re not going crazy at all.”
“I feel like it. This is my bedroom. Apparently, my mom hated my guts and sold everything I didn’t take with me.”
“There’s a lot of stuff in the box for you to see. It might help.”
“Or leave me in a never-ending pit of despair.”
“This is new,” he said.
“What?”
“You being negative all the time. I’m not used to it. It’s not a good look for you.”
She chuckled. “I wonder how you’d feel about losing all of your memories and not getting anything back. With everyone constantly looking at you and expecting there to be a spark. Some kind of magical button that will awaken you from this deep sleep.” She pressed her lips firmly together.
“No magical button?”
“I’ve got nothing to be able to wake me up. It … sucks.” She shrugged. “It could be worse, I suppose. I could be staying with my husband who I don’t know and everything feels odd with. Sorry. I will start to think more positively.”
“You can have your meltdown, it’s fine.”
“Is it, though? I feel insane.”
Preacher reached out, putting a curl behind her ear. “It is what it is. I’m grateful you’re alive, and I can see you.”
“There you go, saying all the nicest things.”
He chuckled.
“I guess I better look and see what I was all about.” She opened the brown cardboard box. The first item was a pillow. It had a dog on it, a cocker spaniel, she believed. “I like it.”
“It’s your favorite dog.”
“Do I have a dog?”
“No. You never asked for one.”
“So if I asked, I’d get it?”
“I tended to make sure you got everything you wanted.”
She paused as she reached into the box. He was talking about him being the one to give her things, not Bishop. If Bishop was supposed to be her husband, why was it Preacher making her life easier? None of it made any sense. Rather than ask him about it, seeing as he liked to be very secretive, she went back into the box.
There was a small jewelry box. Each item she took out, he put in the places she asked him to. When she got to the final item, it was a photograph album.
She rested it on her lap and Preacher sat beside her. “Do you want to open it?”
“I don’t know. Do I?”
“Remember, there is no rush to know everything. This is all for you. You can take your time.”
She nodded her head, but she didn’t believe it. She didn’t know why she was so freaking nervous about all of this, only it felt important to her to remember everything.
Opening the book, she frowned as a picture fell out.
Bending down, she picked it up. “Is this an ultrasound photo?”
“Yes.”
“Is this me?” She tilted her head to look at the picture and something twisted in her gut. “It must be me.” She put the image back into the book and started to look at some of the other pictures. Instantly, she saw most of the photographs were of her and Bishop.
“I guess we were really close, huh?”
Preacher didn’t say anything.
The sound of the door opening again interrupted her thoughts. There were none of her and Preacher in the book, which made her sad. She thought they were friends at least.
“Dinner’s here,” Bear said.
She snapped the book closed and placed it on her bed. “I’m starving. Are you staying for dinner?”