I scan her face; her features are relaxed for the first time in...I don’t know. It feels so surreal to sit here with her. I’ve wanted to be able to talk to her about everything for so long but never dared to hope I would actually get the opportunity. What are the chances that she’d find the one case for a homework assignment that triggers her memory?
I take the blanket from the bottom of her bed and drape it over her. After one last glance, I head to my own room but leave both doors open.
Chapter Eight
I’m slightlydisoriented when I wake up; I’m not under my covers. Shifting up on one elbow, I realize I’m covered with my purple throw blanket that is usually draped over the foot of my bed. Then, everything from yesterday assaults my brain at once, and I let myself fall back into the pillow, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. Oh. My. God.
Did that really all happen in the last twenty-four hours?
I put more pressure on; maybe if I press hard enough, the memories will disappear. Three, two, one—nope, still there. It was worth a try.
My alarm clockshows a little after nine a.m. Holy cow, I slept for more than seven hours. For the first time in weeks, I feel somewhat rested. I haven’t slept more than two or three consecutive hours since my first migraine. When I get up, I notice that my door is open, and so is Rhys’s. Confused, I walk over and partially see his sprawled-out form in his bed. Despite the torrent of emotions already rising back to the surface, after the blissfully blank few hours of sleep, a smile tucks on my lips. Our doors haven’t been open at the same time in forever. I peer across the hall one more time before I close mine and retreat to take a shower.
When we moved here, I chose this room because of the adjoining bathroom. All the bedrooms have a bathroom attached, but whoever owned the house before had remodeled this one. The standard one-piece bathtub was replaced with a massive custom shower with a gorgeous white subway tile and gray mosaic border. The glass doors make the shower even grander. Since I never take baths, I left no room for negotiation that this room would be mine.
Standing under the hot spray, I try to separate my feelings.
Against all logic, the happy feeling of not being crazy makes the other revelations almost tolerable.Almost.
It’s like every single emotion a human is capable of has been thrown in a blender and deposited inside of me.
I was kidnapped as a child and held for weeks. My breathing immediately increases. Why me?
My parents handed me over to their best friends and dropped off the face of the earth. Confusion and disappointment come to the forefront. Who does that? To theironly child. What could have happened for them to take such actions? And where the hell are they? Are they dead? What other answer is there for abandoning your child for ten years?
As for my parents—no, Heather and Tristen!—I decided last night that using their first names—even if it’s just in my head—makes the most sense. They are not my biological parents, but what do I call the people I’ve been living with for most of my life? This causes more confusion—with a side of betrayal. They’ve kept this huge secret from me and had me think that I was their daughter. The conclusion following this thought makes my fists ball in anger.Theyare the reason I lost my best friend.Theymade Rhys walk away from me. It’s. All. Lies.
Something or someone messed with my memory prior to seven years old, and the memories I have are jumbled. I don’t know what is real and what is not. My anger turns to rage, and my entire body starts shaking. They violated me. They invaded my mind. What the hell did they do to me? And how? A tear slips down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. I refuse to cry anymore. I’ve cried too much already.
If this reporter was correct, these poor girls have been kidnapped and taken from their families because of me. I feel at fault for their trauma and scared for any little girl that could still be taken.
Rhys is back in my life. That fact makes me happy, but I can’t shake the feeling of deception. Until yesterday, I thought I was okay with him no longer being a part of my life, but when he said he would notabandonme again, it felt like a smothering blanket had finally lifted. I haven’t allowed myself to miss him for so long. But he lied. He was supposed to be my best friend, even if he was never my brother.
And then, there is the otherrevelation. He loves me. We both ignored that tidbit for the rest of the night and just focused on the case. I exhale slow and long. He. Loves. Me. A groan escapes me. What am I supposed to do with that? I guess we do have to talk about that fact eventually.
I sink to a crouch in the shower and put my head in my hands. Maybe I’ll just stay here and ignore the world for a while. That sounds like a decent plan. I let the water run over my body, scorching my skin in the hot stream. The burn allows me to block everything else out.
But after a few minutes, I stand up and shake my head. I’m not this person. I don’t want to hide—not anymore. I’ve been lied to for the better part of my life, in addition to Rhys letting me believe that I did something for him to hate me. I took it all without a fight, accepted it without question. No more! I clench and unclench my fists. I let the rage and betrayal take over. It prevents me from feeling weak. I can handle this mess, also known as my life. No more self-pity!
Looking at my pruned hands, I realize I spent way more time in the shower than I had planned. With a new sense of purpose, I turn the water off and grab my big white towel from the hook.
I dry off and dress in black yoga pants, a black Y-top, and wrap myself in my favorite gray duster cardigan. For the first time in weeks, I’m blow-drying my hair. Self-care was not a priority when I thought I was crazy, but now I have a goal and the urge to feel like myself again, even if it’s just the appearance. I will never be myself again.
Time for some caffeine.
I’m sittingat the kitchen island, eating my usual breakfast of steel-cut oats with almond butter and banana, scrolling through my social media sites. I’ve been going over everyone’s posts from last night’s party to distract myself. My emotional self-scan in the shower has left me raw. Anger and betrayal are simmering under the surface, exactly where I want it. But I also need to control both in order to accomplish the other part of my new plan. No one can know that I’m no longer in the dark.
The party seems to have been a good one. Den wasn’t there, but I wouldn’t have gone one way or the other. I haven’t been to a party that Katherine or Rhys has attended in months. Not after what happened over the summer. But I had also gotten tired of the looks people gave me. Poor Lilly will always be in her brother’s and Katherine’s shadows.
Yeah right, if they only knew.
When Rhys slouches in, his eyes are barely open. I tilt my head, assessing if he’s even fully awake. He’s wearing a navy-and-yellow hoodie with the school’s mascot on the front and matching sweats. He walks straight to the coffee machine and grumbles, "I guess you’re still not a coffee drinker?"
I arch my eyebrows, not that he sees it from his angle.
"Good morning to you, too." I keep chewing my oatmeal and add, "And no, I still think it tastes like shoe leather."
Rhys snorts. "I just hoped for a cup right now."