I frowned. Bradley frowned.
Maren lifted her hands. “It was a joke. Sorry. I feel like I’ve intruded on something. I think I should get out of here.”
I should have told her to stay. But I was upset. Bewildered. I didn’t want her in my hell. I didn’t want her trapped with me.
It wasn’t right.
It was so, so wrong.
She stopped as she neared Bradley, and I watched the two of them closely.
Something was off.
“I’ll see you later,” she said softly to my quiet friend. He nodded and his lips curved upwards quickly before falling again.
He smiled at her.
I clenched my hands into tight fists.
He smiled at Maren.
And then she was gone and he was mine again.
Mine.
“How could you let her come here?” I accused.
Bradley crossed the room and joined me on the bed. He laid on his back staring above him. “She doesn’t exactly take no for an answer, Nora,” he explained, but I didn’t quite believe him.
Mistrust had entered my heart that I never experienced before. Not with Bradley.
“Were you together, Bradley? How was it that she was able to come here with you in the first place?”
Bradley’s mouth twisted into a grimace, his eyes trained on the ceiling. “What if we were together? Would it matter?” he asked me.
I slammed my fist down on to the mattress. “Yes! Of course it would!” I exclaimed, trying to keep myself from screaming at him.
Bradley looked at me, his eyes sad. Finally I was able to read him. “Don’t you see how dangerous she is to you? To us? She’ll ruin you, Nora. Then what will be left when she’s gone?”
“She won’t ruin me! You’ll ruin me, Bradley! Only you!” I wanted to scratch him. Maim him. Scar him.
“Maybe it’s finally time to run, Nora. Before the monsters catch up with you.” Bradley resumed staring at the ceiling, his eyes strangely glassy.
I frowned. “Who are the monsters? Who should I be running from?”
Bradley closed his eyes, looking exhausted. More exhausted than I had ever seen him.
“Sometimes the monsters are the ones with the pretty faces. Don’t trust anyone. Not even me,” Bradley whispered, his voice fading away.
“What will happen if I’m caught?” I whispered back, but he didn’t hear me.
It was just as well.
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know.
The Present
Day 8
Died on Saturday
Buried on Sunday
I was battered and bruised.
Even worse, I was dying.
I knew that with an absolute certainty.
I had been gone for over a week. Or at least I thought so. And I had yet to be found. Somehow I knew no one was looking for me.
I didn’t matter.
Not to Mother.
Not to Bradley.
I was locked in my cage and I wouldn’t be getting out. I had been pushed aside. I was now out of the way.
Just as Mother had always wanted me to be.
Rosie had warned me that the time would come and I would simply disappear. That everyone would forget that I even existed. She had been overjoyed by the prospect.
Rosie.
I thought of my foster sister and my heart began to thump worriedly in my chest.
Rosie.
She wanted everything that was mine. And everything that wasn’t.
I remembered her standing with me outside of Maren’s house that night. Her nonsensical warnings that meant nothing.
She was always everywhere I didn’t want her to be. So where was she now?
I imagined she had pushed all memory of me away. She and my mother were drinking coffee and chatting over slices of cake. She would be sitting on the couch watching a movie. And it would be like Nora Gilbert had never been.
Rosie.
Bradley.
Where was Bradley?
I remembered his eyes. So wide. So anxious. Worried about me. For me.
“Maybe I just wanted something for myself, Nora! If it couldn’t be you, then I wanted the next best thing!”
I closed my eyes. My head hurt. I couldn’t think properly.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What was that noise? It was coming from nowhere and everywhere.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I wanted to check on Maren, but I couldn’t move. I lay prostrate on the floor in front of the door where I had collapsed many hours before. I had tried to find a way out. I knew that if I didn’t Maren and I were as good as dead.
I couldn’t give up, but I knew that a part of me already had.
I drifted in and out of consciousness. It couldn’t even be called sleep. It was the deep rest of someone almost in the grave.
And in those in between moments I kept my ears open, waiting for the song. Waiting for the voice. It was the only comfort I could have.
But there was only the silence.
So I pulled my knees up to my chest and sang to myself. Familiar words that I should have recognized right away.
They were the words I had given to Maren all those months ago. The ones she had set to music.
Our song.
Here in hell.
How did my captor know it?
Did it even matter?
I missed it now that it was gone.
So I sang a new song. New words. Horrible words. Tragic words.
“You told me to let go, I held on tight,” I rasped, my voice all but gone.
Thump.
Maren.
I tried to sing louder, but I couldn’t. My throat was dry as dust.
“You told me to run, I kept you in my sights.”
I rolled onto my back. It didn’t hurt. Not anymore. Those wounds had healed. There were other things that were more painful.
Thump. Thump.
“Maren,” I sobbed, my cracked, dry lips sticking together as I tried to speak. I attempted to sit up.
I couldn’t.
This was all my fault. I knew that.
The smell of smoke overwhelmed me. The heat sizzled my skin, cracking and popping. The scent of charred flesh filled my nostrils and I began to dry heave.
No one was screaming.
There was no chance to make a noise.
It finished too quickly.
I started to hyperventilate, trying to get air into my lungs. Panic overtook me. I had to get out before it was too late.
But it’s already too late, isn’t it?
“Calm down, Nora,” I whispered, hoping just by saying the words that I could settle down.
It didn’t work.
The smoke was everywhere. I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t breathe!
I forced myself up on my knees and crawled towards the wall. “Maren!” I called out as loud as I was able.
Nothing.
Silence.
“Maren? Do you think you could get up and maybe try your door?” I wasn’t sure she could hear me. My voice was scratchy and low. My throat was raw and burned.
“We really need to get out!” I was trying not to freak out, but the smoke was choking me. The heat was unbearable.
Was the building on fire?
Was I imagining it?
I knew they’d come looking for me.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do when they showed up.
I should have known it would end badly . . .
I felt something shift in the air around me. I had no idea what it was, but it made me tense in preparation.
Like a gathering storm or the moment before a plane went down.
Violent anticipation.
There was a sudden gust of air and I shivered. Standing in my bra and underwear, coated in sweat and grime, I suddenly felt very certain that I wasn’t alone.
“Maren?” I whispered.
Nothing. No response. I really hadn’t expected one.
&
nbsp; I began to shake. My teeth chattered despite the heat.
I felt fear. Real and brutal. Clawing its way up my throat. Settling in my bones.
Everything was blurry, I couldn’t see, but I knew something had changed.
Carefully, with my hands against the wall, I made my way towards the door. The air continued to swirl around me and the awful heat that had become my normal dissipated slightly.
I could breathe.
Finally.
Thump.
Thump.
Was it Maren? I didn’t think so. It seemed to be coming from out there.
I almost screamed.
I kept moving. The light was different.
I could see sun. More than the usual filter of useless streams around the outer edges of the door. This was real and true sunlight.
I hadn’t realized how much I had missed light and fresh air.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I was just in front of the door now and I could see that it was open.
Just a crack.
But enough.
Reaching out, I pushed the heavy wood with all my might and it gave way.
The door was open. I felt freedom in front of me.
This had to be a trap. Why would the person who had trapped me let me out? Why had they unlocked the door?
What if this was all a ruse so they could kill me?
I imagined masked killers with chainsaws. Hooded figures with guns.
But in that moment I didn’t care.
The door was open.
The. Door. Was. Open!
I stumbled through the door, my feet crunching on something that felt like straw. Something hard and sharp pierced the bottom of my foot, but I didn’t stop to see what it was.
I found Maren’s door and tried to pull on the handle.
But her door was still locked.
She was still a prisoner.
“Maren! I got out! Hang on, I’m coming!” I banged on the wood with my fists.
I was in a hallway with several doors lining the walls, all closed.
I was definitely in a barn.
And I knew instantly exactly where I was.
The barn.
The one that had almost burned down.
My special place.
My father’s workshop was on the other side of the building.
I knew this place like the back of my hand.
No wonder it had seemed so familiar. I felt myself buoyed with hope.
I could escape! I’d be able to get Maren out!
Think for a minute, Nora! Don’t rush head long—
I ignored my annoying inner voice; because all that mattered right now was that I was free!
I turned to the closed door just behind me and pushed on the handle. It, like the room where Maren was being kept, was locked.
Thump. Thump.
Smoke and flames.
Fire licking up the walls.
Incinerating everything into crumbling ash.
I pressed my ear to the door. Thump. Thump.
Was someone else here?
Thump. Thump.
The crackle of flames slowly encroaching. I took my time leaving. I wasn’t in a rush.
I was here to watch it all burn . . .
Yes! Someone else was here with Maren and me!
Oh my god, who could it be?
I pounded on the door with my fist. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Nothing.
“You should know who’s behind that door. Think about it, Nora.”
I froze.
The familiar voice invaded my mind like poison.
I should have known.
I turned to face the person I knew was responsible for all of this.
Hate flooded my body and invigorated me.
“Rosie.”
The Past
Two Months Ago
Things were changing so quickly I could barely keep up.
Some of the changes were wonderful. Full of hope. Full of promise.
Those changes had to do with Maren and everything she offered.
Her friendship.
I also had to do with things she hadn’t given me. Yet.
I had never had romantic feelings towards anyone. People had assumed I was in love with Bradley for years, given how much time we spent together.
It was true that I loved Bradley. My affection for him was strong and true.
When I thought of my life, he was the main component. His place in my heart was large and unmoving.
But we had never kissed. We had never touched in that way. I had never fantasized about it either.
For Bradley, those parts of being intimate were unacceptable. He was sickened by anything sexual and went out of his way to avoid it. Even though girls had always been interested in him, he would never give them the time of day.
He barely tolerated when my hand brushed his arms. He recoiled and shuddered if our skin happened to make contact.
We had always been a perfect pair, incapable of being close to anyone but each other.
For a long time I figured that I, like Bradley, was incapable of feeling that way about anyone. I secretly read romance novels just to experience it vicariously, trying to figure out what it was I was missing out on.
I watched porn so I understood the basics, because that was obviously a conversation I’d never have with Mother.
I wasn’t stimulated by the graphic displays of lust on my computer screen. In truth, it left me cold and a little grossed out.
I lived my life with the belief that I was missing that necessary component required to experience romantic love and desire.
Until Maren.
I wasn’t just attracted to her physically. I was drawn to every single thing about her. I connected with her in a way that was deep and lasting.
I didn’t just want to be with her, I wanted to be her.
Beautiful. Capable. Talented. Confident.
She ticked each and every box.
I wanted to model myself after her. I too wanted to be someone people clamored to be around.
When I touched her, I memorized the feel of her skin. I made note of her hair and her subtle makeup. I paid attention to her clothing and her scuffed Doc Martens. I counted the bangles on her wrists and the rings on her fingers.
I knew everything about Maren . . . on the outside. Not just so I could think about it later in the privacy of my dark, lonely room, but also so that I could find ways to mirror her.
I didn’t do it consciously at first. But after time, I found that I wanted so much to be tied to her that I’d do just about anything.
We were engaged in a tangled, complicated dance where we talked around our feelings without coming right out and saying them.
Maren was skittish. Sometimes she seemed unwilling when I made subtle advances.
I hated it when she pulled away. When she kept me at arm’s length. I would get so angry that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to contain the rage that bubbled up inside of me.
But then there were those other times when we’d sit together closely writing our song, our knees would brush or she’d move my hair out of my face, and I knew that she felt the same way.
That’s what sustained me.
What kept me going.
Those changes were beautiful and amazing.
But the other changes were threatening to destroy me completely.
Rosie was always at my house now. Every time I walked down the hallway, she was there. When I got myself ready for school in the morning, she’d stand outside the door, watching me get ready, making her usual snide comments.
She watched me and I suspected she was looking for any reason to tear me down. So I tried to ignore her.
But she just wasn’t going away.
Then there was Bradley.
Something was wrong with him.
Something significant.
And he wouldn’t talk to me about it. Which bot
hered me. Bradley didn’t keep secrets from me. He knew I’d dig them out eventually, so he typically offered them up to save me the effort.
He didn’t this time.
He was keeping something locked away where even I couldn’t find it.
And I suspected it had to do with Maren.
My Maren.
Though I couldn’t be sure.
I was suspicious. Paranoid. Wary.
He was always around. And I was finding his presence to be too much. I had always appreciated his suffocating comfort.
Not anymore.
For the first time I was finding my relationship with Bradley to be . . . toxic.
I was finding myself resentful of him. For interfering. For not interfering enough. For always being there when I didn’t want him to be.
For not being around when I desperately needed him.
And he didn’t know.
He’d never know.
“We’re supposed to save a spot for Bradley,” Maren said after we arrived at the cafeteria.
I gritted my teeth and wished I could grab a hold of her arm and make a run for it.
“When did you talk to Bradley?” I asked her, trying not to sound annoyed. I failed.
Maren knocked my shoulder with hers. The tingles were there. They felt nice. But I couldn’t focus on them. Not with Bradley’s name in her mouth.
“Don’t be so prickly, Nora. I’m doing this for you.”
She was a liar.
This had nothing to do with me. I knew it. She knew it.
So why did she insist on saying it?
I smiled to myself.
She didn’t realize she’d get nowhere with him. That she could try to peek behind his wall, but he’d never let her see anything.
Mine.
I sat down at the table while Maren went to get some lunch. I watched as Bradley came in and joined her in line.
They spoke. Not much. He barely looked at her.
See, I don’t have anything to be irritated about. He’s not even talking to her. And she doesn’t seem to be that interested anyway.
I relaxed.
Then she touched his arm. I waited for his inevitable retreat.
The excitement bubbled up inside of me as I anticipated his shut down. The moment when he’d push her away and come to find me.
I licked my lips, feeling the scar, barely able to contain my pleasure.
Bradley went rigid.
Here it comes.
He smiled and said something to Maren that made her laugh.
The Missing- Volume II- Lies Page 8
