Текст книги "The Forgotten Girl"

Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“That’s what I want,” I say then hurry away through the grass, feeling my peace slip away with every step I take.

Chapter 25

Maddie

My mom about loses it when I get home, especially when I won’t tell her where I was. I let her get her anger out and when she tells me to go to my room, I confront her about what the detective said about me being drugged that night.

“I have no idea why he’d say that,” she says in shock with her hand pressed to her heart. We’re in the living room, the alarm light blinking red, telling me it’s set and I’m trapped once again. “I would never, ever just let someone hurt you and get away with it. I already told you that I want to protect you.”

“So you didn’t know I was drugged?” I ask, letting my backpack fall to floor as I drop down into a chair, tired to the point that I might collapse. “And you’ve been trying to track down the person that hit me, right?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I’m your mother. I want that man caught as much as anyone else.”

“Who said it was a man?” I dig my fingers into the armrest until my knuckles turn white. “I never said anything about a man and from what I understand, the driver was gone before anyone showed up.” I pause. “But I think what I really want to know is why I was out in the road to begin with. What was I running away from, mother? A hospital maybe?” She has to know that I know since she had to have seen the article on my computer that day.

Her eyes narrow as she lowers herself into the chair across from me and folds her arms. “Why would I ever put you in a hospital? You were in the hospital afterward but that’s it.”

“Then why was I out in the middle of nowhere?”

She shrugs, rolling her tongue in her mouth and examining her nails. I can nearly envision lunging out of my chair and tackling her to the ground, wrapping my fingers around her neck, making her tell me her secrets. “That’s what no one really knows.”

“Except me,” I say. “If I could remember.”

“Well, you can’t. Trust me. Preston’s tried a lot and you know as well as anyone that you can’t,” she says, then glances over my muddy, filthy clothes and hair. “Now go change. You look like you crawled out of a dumpster. And tomorrow you’re going to see Preston. It’s been too long and I’m not going to let you skip anymore appointments—I’m not going to let you regress back to the girl who woke up confused in the hospital.”

“I don’t want to see him anymore.”

“Well, you are.”

“I’m an adult, mother. I can make my own choices.”

“No you can’t.” She rises to her feet and adjusts her floral dress. “Trust me, you cannot make your own choices—you never have been able to. And when you try, you end up in the middle of the road, half dead.” It’s the last thing she says before she walks out of the room.

You need to get some answers, Lily whispers. Stop being such a pushover and make her tell you. Or let me do it. Just make her tell you. Think about the girl in the cabin and how you made her bleed. Either be that girl or be me.

Aren’t we sort of the same?

Not at this moment.

I start to picture ways to make this possible. Tie my mother up. Handcuff her and torture her. And just like that, the craziness is back. And the peace I found with Ryland is gone.

* * *

Late that night, the screaming in my head starts up again. It’s more powerful and deafening than it ever has been. After lying in bed for what seems like forever, staring at my ceiling, I make a choice, on my own. I tear off all the buttons on my clothes. Every single one, then I put them in a box. When I’m done, I have my very own button collection again. And even though it’s not quite the same, it still helps me calm down and silence the screaming, something it’s done in the past when I was locked up. I try to put some of the stuff I’ve figured out together as I run my fingers through them, scooping up handfuls and letting them go. I was locked up once, not counting in the hospital, if that theory is true. Once with a boy who I’m guessing is Evan and a girl, that’s either my Lily or my sister. Evan and I counted buttons to distract ourselves, hence the button collection now and the calming effect it has over me. But in the memories, the buttons came from something dark and morbid. And the fire I keep seeing… that had to be the fire the detective was talking about. The real question is, if I have been locked up, once, twice, however many times, why is my mother refusing to tell me? Does she really think that ignoring the problem will allow me to forget? Does she really think it’ll help me never remember the horrible memories I can feel about to come forward?

“Is that why I created you?” I wonder. “To help me deal with whatever happened to me? Is that when you surfaced?”

“Who said you created me?” Lily replies.

I sigh, scooping up handful of buttons. “Who else could?”

“Life. Your environment. Things done to you. Lily.”

I freeze. “My sister? Do you remember her?”

“No, but you seem to.”

I drop the buttons in the box. “I think I was locked up once because I was crazy, but that was when I was older… the younger memories, the ones with the girl and the boy…. I’m not sure what was going on there… And who the man was, the one I’m so afraid of in the memories? The one that calls me a whore. The one that was in my house… the one I hallucinate sometimes…”

“For each person I kill,” he says as he cuts a button off the blouse. “I keep one of these. It helps me keep track.”

I feel like I’m dying in the corner, hugging myself so tightly I swear I’m going to crush my own bones. “Why do you do it?” I whisper in horror, pretending like there isn’t blood all around me, death, pain. That I didn’t see the worst side of life moments ago.

He tosses the knife aside and it lands beside my feet. Then he holds up the button between his fingers, examining it in the light, his dark eyes filling with elation. “Because these people are wicked, Maddie. Bad. Just like you.”

“Yes, she is,” a woman whispers from somewhere. “And it’s time to make her pay too.”

I jolt from the memory and fall out of the bed, landing on my back. It knocks the wind out of me, but the pain is small in comparison to the pain I felt in the memory. I was locked up once, by a killer, someone who killed bad people and who thought I was bad too. And there was a woman there… her voice… I’ve heard it before.

I’m trying to push my brain further, to put the pieces together when I see a face appear in my window and the sound of something scratching on the glass.

“Shit.” I jump but then hesitate, wondering if it was the man who broke in that night, who knows about Lily, who maybe had once locked me up and killed people in front of me. Perhaps he tried to kill me once, too and now he’s doing it again. Maybe that’s what I was running away from that night.

Gathering up enough courage, I cautiously tiptoe over to the window and peer out into the front yard. I see a figure standing in the middle of the road, just out of the light of the lamppost, with their arms crossed, watching the house. I hear the words you’re a whore! Bad! You’re just like all of them! I almost bang my head on the glass just to get it to stop. My breathing quickens as I rub my eyes and by the time I lower my hands, the figure is gone and the voice has dissipated into the night.

As I turn away from the window, fearing the possibilities of who could be stalking me, I notice that my breath has created fog on the window and the words I know are traced in it. At first I think it’s on the outside of the window, but I’m able to wipe them away from the inside with the sleeve of my shirt, which means two things: 1) I zoned out and wrote them or 2) someone was in my room.

But I’m not one-hundred percent sure which one it is. It’s hard to see the reality when there’s so much craziness inside me.

Chapter 26

Maddie

I quickly discover that the longer my insomnia goes on, the more insane I get. It makes me fear my mind less because there’s so much scattered nonsense in it that Lily’s voice has even become incoherent. But the longer it goes on, I do start to get paranoid about allowing myself to sleep. I start waiting by the window for the figure to show up and another message to appear every night, but it never does. Every time I shut my eyes, I slip into the nightmare full of rain, cold concrete, where I’m afraid and imprisoned by a man who loves to kill and who always threatens to kill me. The woman’s voice always appears but I can never see her. I’m forced out of my nightmare by the worry of what I’ll do when I close my eyes. I get jittery, unsettled, twitchy, not a good combination for a girl with a split personality. Lily and I both are desperate to rest, but I won’t cave and give in. My mom starts to notice, too and when she catches me one day in my room, talking to myself, she loses it and tells me no more skipping out on therapy anymore. I’m too exhausted to argue and tell myself that in a few weeks I’ll have my own place—my own life—and none of this will matter anymore.

Preston notices right away how tired I look and starts probing me with questions about my sleep schedule the moment I enter his office. Then he brings up my behavior at home.

“Your mother called me today before you came here,” he says with a pencil tucked behind his ear, like he’s a shop teacher ready to build something. I wonder if that’s how he sees me. If I’m a project he’s trying to put together. “Your mother said you’ve been having a hard time the last few days and that you’ve been very uncooperative.”

“I’m too old to be living with her,” I state, tapping my foot restlessly against the floor. His desk is a mess today, papers in a chaotic order, folders everywhere, and his shirt looks wrinkly, the smell of cigarettes more potent than ever, a real hot mess just like me. “I’m an adult for God’s sake... I think it’s time for me to move out. I’m too old to deal with this anymore, no matter what she wants to believe. Besides, it might be good for me to get some space from her… she makes me worse instead of helping me. Always lying.”

It takes him a second to answer, as if he’s calculating the right thing to say. “Maddie, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it might be for the best if you continue to live with your mother.” He fidgets, taking the pencil out from behind his ear and tossing it onto the desk. “I know in age your old enough to live on your own, but I think your confusion with your identity sometimes makes you act younger than you are. And the lying part… I can assure you that everything your mother does is in your best interest.”

I stare out the window at the grey sky and beads of water rolling down the glass. Out in the parking lot is a blue Camry that belongs to my mother—she refused to leave me here alone. “You sound like you’re on her side.”

“On whose side?”

I meet his gaze, wondering if he knows the stuff my mother refuses to tell me. Maybe he’s in on whatever it is too. “My mother.”

He swiftly shakes his head. “I’m on no one’s side, Maddie. All I’m here for is to help you.”

“But you talk to her all the time, right? About me? Which isn’t allowed.”

“Yeah, I do, but for a good reason.”

“You know that doesn’t help with the trust factor, Preston,” I point out, crossing my legs. “You say everything here is confidential, but you talk to my mother about me, which is wrong.” I wonder if he knows about the accident and that I was doped up when it happened. I wonder if he knows about Lily, my supposed sister. I wonder if he knows about my entrapment with the crazy man.

“I’m not breaking any trust by talking to your mother. You signed a release form so I could,” he says evenly, collecting a stack of papers and shoving them out of the way so he can rest his elbows on the desk. “I would never do anything behind your back or against you.”

“I never signed a release form,” I argue, shaking my head in protest. “I would remember if I did.”

“Yes, you did,” he says, reeling his chair around. He opens up the filing cabinet that’s behind his desk and retrieves a folder with my name on it. Dropping it on the desk, he opens it up and takes out a paper. “Back when we started these sessions.” He slides the paper across the desk at me.

I stare down at the paper that definitely has my signature, yet I can’t remember signing it. There’s no date on it either to remind me. I drag my fingers down my face. “Well, I didn’t know what I was signing.”

“I explained it to you and you understood it then,” he explains. “You even agreed it was a good idea.”

“If that’s the case, then why is this the first time I can remember hearing anything about this?” I skim read over the paper that specifically explains he’s allowed to talk to my mother about the things that go on in here with me. I clutch the paper in my hand, crinkle the corners. “I would never sign this. I know I wouldn’t.”

“It was for your own benefit,” Preston explains as if he truly believes it. “Back when we started these sessions, you were really struggling with simple tasks, like picking out outfits for yourself or writing your name down. It was for the best that you and your mother could talk about your progress so she could help you while you were at home.”

Shaking my head, I tear up the paper, not once, twice, but into tiny pieces then drop them to the floor like confetti. He stares down at the shreds of paper, scattered all over his desk and the floor. I expect him to get cross and call me out on my temper tantrum, but instead he says, in a very composed voice, “How about we get started with our session for today?”

I don’t answer, but I don’t leave the office either, so he takes that as a yes.

“Do you want to tell me why you haven’t been sleeping very well?” he asks, folding his arms and resting them on top of the folder. It makes me wonder what else he has in there? What else I’ve signed without knowing.

“Who says I haven’t been sleeping very well?” My eyes are fixated on the folder.

“You look exhausted, Maddie,” he says, sliding the folder off to the side, out of my line of vision.

I need to get a hold of it.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Lily appears behind Preston. She’s grinning, in her blond form, piercings, happy. God, I’d forgotten what happy looked like.

She puts her finger to her lips then traces her fingers through his blond hair, Preston completely oblivious to the factor. “You need to get a hold of that folder, Maddie.” She leans over Preston’s shoulder, her hands wandering to the front of his neck. “Even I’m curious what the ken doll has in there.” She’s almost strangling him, her hands resting just at the base of his neck, eyes sparkling with need. “You know, you could always hit him over the head, knock him unconscious, and search his office. God knows what you’d find.” She cocks her head to the side, her fingertips digging into his skin. “Or you could just let me strangle him. Either way works for me.”

I consider what she said. Me, Maddie, hurting Preston… it feels easier to do than it did a few weeks ago.

“Maddie, did you hear me?” Preston’s giving me that look that lets me know I’ve dazed off.

I shake my head, blinking my eyes several times in order to focus on him, Lily is still behind him, giggling and watching me with amusement. “No, not really.”

He releases an exhausted breath, leaning forward in his chair, causing Lily’s fingers to fall from his neck. “I asked you if you wanted to tell me why you haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“I’ve already told you that I’ve been sleeping just fine.” I deliberate my next words as Lily wanders around his office. “But can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can ask me anything,” he says seriously and Lily rolls her eyes as she skims through folders.

“Wow, I’m beginning to prefer even River over this idiot,” she says, tipping her head to the side as she stares at the filing cabinet, putting her finger to her lips.

“When someone isn’t sleeping very well is it normal for them to… I don’t know… see things that aren’t there?” I ask Preston, my gaze skimming back and forth between Lily and him.

“Have you been seeing things?” he asks interestedly, overlapping his fingers and resting his hands on the desk.

“No… but I’m wondering if it’s possible.”

He sighs. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

I’m trying to figure out where to go from here. I don’t trust him, yet I want answers. “Sometimes I do, but it’s nothing major,” I say and Lily smiles at me, laughing under her breath. “And I’ve been really tired lately.”

He picks up a pen to jot some notes down on his legal pad. “What sort of things have you been seeing?”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “No details. I’ve said enough.”

“Maddie, I can’t—”

“Preston, it’s all I can give you right now,” I say as Lily waves and then fades away into the sunlight. “So if you want to answer me then go head, if not, then drop it.”

He taps the pen on the desk, thinking over what I said carefully. “Insomnia can cause hallucinations, but other things can, too, as well.”

“Like what?”

“Lots of things. There are a ton of mental disorders that can cause people to see things that don’t exist.” He pauses and his penetrating gaze makes me squirm. “If you aren’t sleeping well, then I can give you some sleeping pills to help with it.”

“No.” I practically shout and then quickly lower my voice. “No pills. I hate pills.”

He sets the pen on the desk. “Since when?”

“Since now,” I say then add, “Since I found out that I had rufi’s in my system that night of the accident.”

He stares at me quizzically. “Where did you hear that?”

“Not from you or my mother,” I say bitterly. “But I’m guessing you both knew about it.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, baffled. “Maybe if you told me where you heard it from, I could figure out what you were talking about.”

“A cop told me.”

Either Preston really doesn’t know what I’m talking about or he’s a damn good liar, because he maintains his sheer perplexity. “I’m shocked… this is the first time that I’m hearing about this... But if what you say’s true, then I need to look into it.”

I’m not buying it. “Sure you will.”

He frowns and then we fall right back into our rhythm. The one where we play cat and mouse, although I’m not exactly sure who’s the cat and who’s the mouse anymore. The game goes on and on, me being evasive and him desperately trying to crack me open. And when he eventually gets tired of it, he suggests we jump in to some more hypnotherapy.

“I’m really not in the mood,” I say after he suggests it, but still get up and wander over to the chair because deep down I’m curious what I’ll see. All these memories are resurfacing and maybe if I see enough, I can figure out the entire thing—my entire past.

“You’ve said that a lot today,” Preston says, slipping his suit jacket off and hanging it on the back of the chair. “Maybe we could talk about why. Or perhaps how you’re feeling about the thing with the detectives.” He puts the file back into the cabinet, locks it, and then drops the keys in the desk drawer. “I didn’t know you knew Sydney Rawlington and your mother thought it’d be a good idea to talk about it with you. Maybe you could talk about your feelings… about being questioned by the police over it.”

“My feelings?” I rest my arms on my stomach and arch a brow at him. “Really Preston? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I know that it’s hard for you to talk about them, especially when you’re so confused by them,” he says, pulling up a chair next to mine. He lights the candles with his matches then sits down and rests his foot on his knee. “But it might help to get some things off your mind and talk to me about it.”

I fix my eyes on the ceiling, trying to get off the Sydney subject as quickly as possible. “Look, if we’re going to do this, can we get it over with? I have somewhere I have to be soon.”

A sea of confusion fills his eyes. “Where?”

“Somewhere.” I squeeze my eyes and wish I had the superpower to disappear. I’d vanish up to the cabin with Ryland again. I never should have left.

Seconds later the sound of rain flows from the speakers as he clicks on the iPod. Pitter patter… pitter patter…

“Just relax.”

Pitter… patter… pitter… patter… The rain is falling… my cheek is pressed against the cold concrete. My hair is wet, my bones aching. I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. I want to be free… please, someone help me.

The rain gets quieter and is replaced by an eerie calm. I can smell smoke, feel the heat of flames. My skin feels like it’s melting. I can’t breathe. I need to help them, but I can’t see them. I can only here him. I don’t want to hear him. I want him to die in the flames.

“Wake up. Open your eyes. Now.”

“I can’t… I don’t want to…”

“Maddie, wake up. We need to get out.” It’s a girl’s voice pleading with me as she tugs on my arm. “We have to go. I started the place on fire.”

“Lily?” I try to lift my eyelids. Try to see and breathe through the smoke, but it’s blinding me, searing at my skin. Metal scorches my body. The building is caving in around me. Boards land on my body, tear at my side, rip flesh from my body. Where is Evan? I need to see Evan. Help him. But he’s saying run, leave him behind. He’s going to die. And I’m going to let him.

“Maddie, wake up. Open your eyes.”

Fire. Blazing. Flames. Smoldering Smoke. Smothering. I’m going to die. He’s going to die. Watch him burn. Feel his pain. The pain you inflicted on him. I didn’t save him. I just ran and left Evan with him. The man who hates us. Tortures us. Does God awful things. The man I could kill and not care. He says I’m bad all the time and maybe I am.

“Jesus, Maddie. Open your eyes.”

Evan is gone and he’s chasing us, through the flames and the smoke as we race through the house, Lily pulling me along with her, my feet fighting to keep up with her. She’s faster than me, stronger than me. She is everything I want to be. And he wants to hurt both of us. Wants to punish us for trying to escape. For being bad. Like he punished all of those people that used to own the buttons scattered all over the basement floor. I wonder if he catches us if he’ll scatter mine along with them.

“He’ll kill us if he catches us,” I call out to Lily as we head for the front door of the house, coughing against the smoke.

She pauses, fumbling around through the smoke for the doorknob. “You go,” she says and suddenly she has something in her other hand… something silver… a gun? “I’ll take care of him. I’m better at this stuff anyway.”

It makes something deep inside me twinge and I find myself shaking my head, my eyes skimming to the flames and the smoke. “No. Not this time.”

Her grip on my arm tightens, her nails pierce into my skin, split open my flesh. “Just go. You’ll never be able to do it.”

Her words are painfully right. “But what about Evan—” There’s a thud and before I even know what I’m doing, I snatch the gun from her hand. I’m not even sure what comes over me. If I really am bad or if her words have finally gotten to me, but at the moment I don’t feel like myself. I feel like Lily.

When I see him walking through the fire and smoke toward me, I aim it at him. Flames engulf the wood, beams crash to the floor. Ashes spill all over my skin, singe my clothes, grey smoke swirls around, but even through it I can see him smiling at me.

“Do it!” Lily cries as the man grows closer and closer

I start to squeeze the trigger, but when I see his eyes, his face, his life, I can’t do it. I may hate him, but at the same time I love him. I may want to kill him, but at the same time I’m not a killer.

Flames ignite, roaring brightly, and smothering everything with smoke. I can’t breathe and I fall to the ground on my knees, choking for air. “I can’t do it.”

“Maddie.”

“Well, I sure as hell can.” Lily points the gun at him, smiling as she pulls the trigger, and when his blood splatters, it feels like it’s on my hands too. Like we’re one and the same.

“Maybe we are,” she whispers. “Then again, you might be too weak to be me.”

I look up at her and for the briefest moment, I think about taking the gun and aiming it at her, but then the fire ignites, a gun fires, and then everything smothers in flames

The fire shifts… fades… sucks us both away… I’m being carried... I move somewhere else. I can’ move… I claw at the ground. My flesh. Four white walls surround me… the number 14 brands in my mind, just on the other side. I have to get out. The smoke and rain is gone and all I can see is the florescent lighting and feel the cold air.

I’m alone.

No you’re not. We’re in this together.

They tell me I’m crazy.

But I’m not!

I see her.

She’s real.

She didn’t leave me to die.

“I’m not crazy! Let me out!” I pound on the door. Scream at the top of my lungs, but no one hears me. My fingernails dig in to the door and I scrape at the metal until my fingers bleed, until some of my fingernails rip off.

Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. I always do. After all, you’re too weak without me.

“You keep saying that,” I say, continue to bang at the door, panting and trembling with fear. I haven’t seen sunlight in days. Haven’t breathed fresh air in ages. I need out. “But it’s never okay. My weakness has won.”

It will, though. But you need to calm down. Panicking’s not going to get us anywhere.

“But I want out. I want to breathe the fresh air again. Want to be out of this place.”

“You will be,” she promises as I turn around and sit down on the cement floor with my head resting against the door, tucking my damp blond hair behind my ears. I stare at the scribbling on the wall. The sentence that I wrote over and over again: I’m not a killer. I’m not a killer. I’m not a killer. “Just trust me. I know a way to get us out, but it’s going to have to be me.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t have it in you to escape—you never have. Remember what happened last time.” As she says it, she shows me images of the things she could do to get us out. They make me sick. Disgust me. But a lot of the things I’ve done here make me feel the same way.

So I make a choice, but it doesn’t even feel like a choice. It feels like it’s the only thing left to do. So I shut my eyes and let her take control over me. Seconds later, the place is on fire and I’m running through the forest, barefoot, cold. But finally free.