When I awoke, I felt
cold. Nick was no longer behind me, and the blanket he had pulled
over me just didn’t provide the warmth and comfort his body
had. I sat up, my heavy eyelids trying to focus on the dimly lit
apartment. Light was shining outside, but it wasn’t squeezing
brightly past the edges of the blinds, so I knew morning had already
come and gone.
Nick was sitting on
the sofa, his back to me, head pointing down. “Nick?” I
called softly, even the muscles controlling my mouth was still numb
with sleep.
He turned his upper
torso, a small smile trying to form. “Hey,” he replied
softly back. “How are you feeling?”
“Sleepy.”
I tossed the blanket off me and swung my legs off the bed.
Nick bent over and
disappeared a split second before he arose from the sofa, his sights
set on me now. “Then why are you getting out of bed? Go back to
sleep.” He sat down beside me and my body involuntarily swayed
toward him as the bed sank. His arm reached around my shoulders and I
leaned my head against his neck, a trace of cologne lingering from
the night before. I felt really dazed.
What did I do? I told
him.
Every
thing. Admitting that was like baring a huge piece
of my soul, and I felt more naked than ever. I had shared that
horrible secret, and the ugliness inside me, thinking it would run
him off, leaving him so repulsed he’d throw me away like the
used tissue that I was.
But it didn’t.
He was still here, still trying to wrap his arms around me, to
comfort me.
Even worse, I was
relieved, my body aching for the touch he supplied me, like the
relief that followed when an addict gave into temptation during
withdrawal.
But my nightmare was
far from over. Even though I had admitted the cause of my pain, of
the torturing images that would haunt me until the day I died, it
didn’t alter the truth of my worst fear. That I had killed, and
there was someone out there that knew that, someone who was probably
just as cruel and sinister as the one who burned. I buried my head in
my hands and hung my neck. “What if I’m not seeing things
and that guy really is out there somewhere? Looking for me?”
“I stand by what
I said before. If he had any way of tracking you, he’d have
found you by now.”
Oh, how I wanted to
believe every single one of those words. To think that I could walk
away, move forward and make some attempt at a life.
He must have sensed
the hesitation in my sigh, because he gingerly tilted my chin until
we were eye to eye. “You’re safe with me. I promise I’ll
protect you.” I moaned when his forehead pressed against mine,
his hand reaching over to caress my cheek, our lips brushing so
softly that I actually believed the passion behind those words.
“But be honest
with me. Did you ever talk to someone about what happened? I mean
about what happened before your last day? ” he skirted.
My head swayed lazily.
After being taken to the hospital, it wasn’t easy avoiding the
staff to sneak back out, as the pain killers they managed to get in
me before I could rip out that IV made me lethargic. My arms and
abdomen had been wrapped up at least, but I had nothing on my back
but a hospital gown. I had to risk getting caught entering a staff
locker room to dig some used scrubs out of the laundry bin near the
door. I suppose I could have ventured farther in to find fresh ones,
but the risk just wasn’t worth it.
It wasn’t long
before I stumbled upon a girl my age working the street. I think she
knew, like she could read it in my eyes, see it by the way I wrapped
myself up in my arms and had trouble making eye contact. She told me
about a women’s shelter she knew would take me in. I don’t
know what would’ve happened to me if they hadn’t. They
gave me food, clothes…even let me help out for two weeks so I
could earn the cash that paid for my ticket out of there. Luckily,
they had a nurse that volunteered for them, and she was able to help
me deal with the pain and apply clean dressings for my burns. The
women there wanted to help me more, but I wouldn’t let them,
wouldn’t tell them anything that had happened. I just wanted to
get as far away as possible. And they respected my decision once I
lied and told them I was eighteen.
“Do you need to
talk to someone? Other than me?”
“No,” I
whispered. And it was the truth. Though some of the images still
haunted my thoughts, it had been a year and a half already. I felt
letting a shrink get into my head at this point would be
counterproductive, only dredging up what I had successfully put to
rest.
“Tell you what,”
Nick said, his lips hovering near my cheek. “Let me take a
quick shower, then you can shower while I go get us something to
eat.”
I nodded and murmured
in agreement, even though I had no desire to eat anything. He kissed
me tenderly once more, then disappeared behind the bathroom door. The
sound of water helped to snap me out of my Nick-induced haze and I
made my way to the sofa. I didn’t want to think, because I knew
the darkness all too well, my mind always trying to pull me under. I
needed to drown myself out, needed to focus on something else,
anything else, and I began to search the area around me for the TV
remote. Nick was the one who actually watched it these days, and I
had no idea what he did with it in between uses. Checking the floor,
I noticed the corner of a book sticking out beneath the sofa and
pulled it out.
It was a brown leather
album, one of those with sticky film, with enough room to hold either
one picture vertically or two horizontally. I opened it up, expecting
to see pictures of Nick’s family, but what I saw was a baby
dressed in pink. There was no writing, only pictures, and my first
thought was
Nick had a daughter?
I knew we’d just began
dating, but still, how could he not mention that yet? And now I
really began to wonder why he never wanted to discuss his family, or
what the real reason was for him fleeing to this small town in
Oregon.
I kept flipping pages,
and what I saw disturbed me. The girl kept getting older and older.
And familiar.
Way
too familiar. As were the people in the photographs with her as she
grew up.
No…
I didn’t believe
it. Nick couldn’t do this,
wouldn’t
deceive me so
badly. Not the guy I was completely falling for, who I just shared my
deepest, darkest secrets with.
No…
The bathroom door
opened and heavy steps made their way towards me. I never even heard
the shower go off. I stood before him, waving the album in the air.
“Nick? What is this?” When he saw what was clenched
within my grasp, all expression fell from his face. “This is
that girl that thought I was her sister. And that couple you insisted
you
take care of the other night? They’re her parents,
right?” I hesitated, but still received nothing on his part.
“Is that why you’re here? Why you work at my diner and
asked to room with me?” My voice kept rising and rising because
he wasn’t even offering a head shake to deny he’d been
invading my personal space for his own agenda. And that just really
pissed me off! “Fucking answer me already!” I yelled,
chucking the photo album at him.
He caught it
awkwardly, and the jerky movement brought him to life. “Yes,”
he stuttered. After releasing a deep sigh, he gave me a more profound
yes
. My eyes narrowed as my head began to swing with slow,
determined shakes. His hand patted the air before him in attempt to
calm me down. “Please, let me explain. I’m just here to
watch over you.”
Watch over me?
He was ready to
bed me!
“Why?” I
asked bitterly, gritting my teeth and fisting my hands. I already
told that girl I wasn’t her sister. Why the hell were they
secretly hounding me?
“Fuckin’
shit,” he muttered, dropping the album on the coffee table.
Resigned, he said heavily, “You were so close to figuring this
out on your own. The album… I was going to give it to you once
you began fitting the missing pieces together. God, Claire, you’re
so close.”
“I am not
Claire
,” I declared slowly.
“Yes. You. Are,”
he replied, just as slowly. “I was with you when you got that
hydrangea tattoo on your hip, so unless you have a twin in the world
with that exact tattoo, then
you are
Claire
.”
Annoyed, I spat, “My
mother took me to get that tattoo when I aced my SATs. It was my
reward.”
“No. You got
that tattoo as a birthday present to yourself when you turned
seventeen. I was with you when you swiped your sister’s ID and
I went with you to get it. And I was there to make fun of you the
entire weekend afterwards because the damn thing wouldn’t stop
itching. I have pictures on my old phone if you’d like to see
some proof.”
I crossed my arms and
shook my head. It was like talking to a brick wall. “This is
fucking ridiculous.” I got four steps closer to the door before
Nick rushed over and wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding
me firmly in place.
Oh, hell to the NO!
Fuming, I very
distinctly said, “Nick. Let. Go.”
I struggled against
him, but my effort was futile, as his physical strength far surpassed
my own. I was just about to start screaming when he pleaded, “Just
hear me out for five minutes. If you don’t like what I have to
say, I’ll walk out that door forever.”
I huffed in
exasperation. “Like I can trust what you say. You’ve been
lying to me!”
“No, I haven’t,
Megan. I may have omitted a few details or intentionally avoided a
few subject matters with you, but that’s only because I
didn’t
want to lie to you.”
Apparently, he’d
never heard of lying by omission.
His arms slacken
around my body, but still kept me captive against his chest. “I
promise. After I tell you everything, you’ll know in your heart
what I said feels right.”
So long as he lets go.
“Five minutes,” I said sharply through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Five
minutes. But you have to listen to what I have to say whether you
agree with it or not.”
Bitterly, I snapped,
“Fine.” He released me then, and I stepped a few feet out
of arm’s reach, my arms still hugging my body.
“Since I only
have five minutes, I’m not going to waste too much time over
the obvious similarities.” He began ticking off his fingers.
“You and Claire having the same height, same age, same brown
hair and eyes and a matching tattoo you’re trying to play off
as common, because it’s not. I’m going to just hit you
with those nightmares you’ve been having. I’m not
shouting for you to look up in the air. I’m shouting
Claire
.
And that sense of fear, the danger that always seems to get you in
the end? I’m trying to warn you that the danger is your
so-called parents.”
I rolled my eyes and
groaned. So not only was I not me, but now my dead parents were a
threat to me.
Please
.
“Don’t do
that,” he demanded, pointing his finger at me. “You
agreed to hear me out.”
Narrowing my eyes
tightly, I began chewing my lower lip. I didn’t like that
coincidence, but when I didn’t protest any further, he
continued.
“
Claire
was a senior in high school when she went missing October 30, 2010.
Nine other girls disappeared that same day. Some, like Claire, were
in a car that got hit. Some were off walking by themselves. Shit, two
of the girls were apparently walking together when they went missing.
The police said all ten of the girls were most likely stolen by
traffickers, who came into the city, abducted a handful, and got the
hell back out again before anyone even realized what was happening.
“Those people in
your dream, who you think are your parents, were probably your
handlers. They kept you for as long as it took to brainwash you into
thinking whatever lies they needed you to believe. And I doubt
they’re dead like you think they are. And that man you said was
a
family friend
that took you in? Your handlers
sold
you to him. And when you didn’t go along with the transition,
he locked you away. Because if he couldn’t have you willingly,
he was going to have you…”
One way or the
other.
Nick couldn’t
finish that sentence out loud. Probably because I began cringing the
moment he mentioned that sick bastard. And now that Nick knew what
that asshole did to me, he had to know my head was filled with images
I couldn’t keep suppressed. And the thought that I may have
possibly been sold as a sex slave completely disgusted me.
I didn’t like
how my story began to align with Claire’s. I had always feared
she may have suffered a similar fate, but now to imagine her story
and mine
were
one in the same? The pain behind my eyes had
been building the past few minutes, and I roughly stroked my brow
bones in an outward motion. Could I really be Claire? The same girl
who looked like my twin and apparently shared the same tattoo on the
very same spot?
It never occurred to
me before, but there were a lot of holes in my memories regarding my
parents. I had some, but there were more holes than not. But on the
other hand, I had absolutely zero memories regarding the people
related to Claire. If I had really spent seventeen years of my life
with them, wouldn’t I remember
something
about them?
This was all just too
confusing.
“Why do you
think brainwashed? Why would you know something like that?”
“Because that’s
one of the things the cops said could happen to you, and since you
didn’t recognize me or Thea, either that or the trauma has done
something to make you forget. I think the cops told us that to
prepare us…to
expect
that you’d never come back
to us.”