Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found)

by Nadia Simonenko

  “Sure, I’ll be upstairs,” I say, and I leave Maria in Tina capable hands and head upstairs to her room.

  I understand what Tina’s trying to do. She’s preparing Maria to face Darren, showing her how to hurt him back in the least obtrusive way possible. She wants Maria to act as if it doesn’t hurt her, not for her own sake but instead as a slap in the face to Darren. Maria’s going to pretend that she’s fine, that Darren has no power over her and that she doesn’t even remember what he did. He’s nobody and means nothing to her. That’s her goal. I don’t know if it’ll work, though.

  I still feel like it’s letting him off too easily, like it still doesn’t make up for what he did to her.

  I sit on her bed, listen to Tina’s muffled instructions downstairs and wait for them to finish. Without Maria here to focus my attention on, my mind quickly wanders back to my grad school rejection and my mood darkens. Now what am I going to do? I’ve appealed the decision and Professor Meador still insists that he’s going to take care of things somehow, but I think he’s just old and senile. I think they’re going to reject me again, and I have no idea what to do when that happens.

  I sigh, lie down on Maria’s bed and immediately smack my head on something rock-hard beneath her pillow. What the hell is she keeping under her pillow? Bricks? Gold bars? I rub my throbbing head and grumble as I yank back the pillow, and then I stare in confused silence.

  A ragged, green notebook lies on the mattress. Its cover is torn, creased and held together almost entirely by scotch tape at this point. Big black letters on the cover read, ‘Book of Nightmares.’

  Without thinking, I pick up the notebook, open the cover and start reading the first page.

  The nightmare came again last night, and when it woke me up, I was too scared to go back to sleep. Darren was staring at me, knowing he had me trapped, and he kept coming closer and closer as I huddled in the corner. I couldn’t get away from him.

  It didn’t happen in the living room, like in the dream. It happened in Micah’s room upstairs...

  I shake my head and look away from the page. No, this isn’t right. I can’t read this. This is worse than even reading someone’s diary, more personal than anything else could possibly be.

  I try to close the cover and put the book back, but my eyes latch back onto Maria’s tiny, scrawled handwriting. Before I know it, another paragraph has passed and my stomach is starting to feel queasy. My heart is screaming at me to close the book, to put it down before I read too much, but I can’t pull myself away from it.

  I want to throw up as I read the transcript of Maria’s darkest nightmares but I can’t put the book down. I can see her in my mind, somehow just a tinier version of the Maria I know today, cowering before a shapeless, faceless Darren. I can feel him hurting her and a strong wave of nausea hits me.

  I flip the page again. I feel ashamed of myself for reading her book but I can’t put it down. I knew what happened to her, but I never thought of it affecting her like this. Memory after terrible memory, nightmare after nightmare, horrible after-effects that lingered for years... I had no idea. I thought I understood, but I had no idea at all.

  “Put it down, Owen. Put the book down before you hurt her.”

  The rest of me ignores my conscience and instead turns the page, gasping at the memory on scrawled in tiny letters before me. The ink is smeared at the top—a blurred, circular stain—as if Maria had been crying while she wrote it.

  “This is going to be our little secret, okay?” whispers Darren. I stare silently up at the ceiling, trying my hardest not to look down at him. I don’t want to see what he did to me. Please don’t make look at what he did to me. I’m not ready yet.

  He heads into the bathroom and then returns with a towel, throwing it on top of me.

  “You’d better clean yourself up, Maria,” he tells me with cool indifference, his voice as calm and nonchalant as if he’d just finished up his gardening rather than raping me. “You wouldn’t want Micah to see what you just did, would you?”

  No, I don’t want him to see. I never wanted it to happen at all.

  Darren sits beside me on the bed as I shakily sit up and I flinch in terror as he nudges me with his elbow.

  “Like I said—this is our secret,” he whispers, his voice now low and serious in my ear. “You know how much it’d hurt your brother to find out what you did.”

  ...what I did... I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want this. He’s trying to make me feel guilty, like it was my idea, like I wanted to have sex with him. All I wanted was to see my brother.

  “He’d get very, very hurt if he found out,” emphasizes Darren, and I suddenly understand. He’s threatening me. He’s promising to hurt Micah if I ever tell him.

  I’ll never tell a soul.

  I slam the book shut, and my hands tremble as I put it back under the pillow and tried my best to hide what I’ve just done.

  “Owen?” calls out Maria from behind me, and I spin around to see her leaning against the doorframe. She stares silently at me, her face cold, pale and emotionless, but the hurt look in her eyes projects what she’s feeling as if she was screaming it at the top of her lungs.

  Betrayal.

  An avalanche of guilt buries me as I realize what I’ve just done. I have no excuse. My conscience screamed at me the whole time I was reading her book and I still ignored it. I’ve just driven a stake into her heart. I’ve broken her trust and desecrated the safe haven she built to hide her pain. She’d have to break into my nightmares and chat pleasantly with my father as he beats me to hurt me the way I’ve just hurt her.

  “Maria, I...”

  “Get out,” she hisses. She’s starting to tremble, and she braces herself against the wall with one hand as her face turns as white as a sheet and her eyes go dark.

  “I didn’t mean to snoop,” I try to apologize, but I can’t even convince myself it’s true. I couldn’t look away. I feel cold and almost sick to my stomach at what I’ve just read, but even more at what I’ve just done to her. I’ve just witnessed her darkest secret and watched idly as her childhood was torn apart.

  Darren raped her and now I was there to see it. I’m not safe anymore.

  Her face turns red and the muscles in her neck twitch as she glares at me. She’s frightened and at the same time furious—terrified of what I’ve just witnessed and angry beyond words at me for having seen it.

  “Maria, please. I’m so sorry,” I apologize, hoping she’ll listen to me. I want to hug her and somehow make up for hurting her. I’ve screwed up so badly tonight.

  “Get out!” she screams at me, her voice harsh and shrill as her throat tightens in anguish. She crosses her arms over her chest and shrinks away from me. She’s avoiding eye contact and I can see her retreating inside herself now. I’m only hurting her worse by staying.

  I bolt from the room, my guilt and grief clinging to me every step of the way, and Maria slams the door shut behind me. The lock clicks and she starts to cry on the other side.

  How could I do that to her? How dare I hurt her like that? I lean back against the door and listen in agony to her tears on the other side. I said I’d protect her from Darren—that I’d never let him hurt her again—and look what I’ve gone and done. I’ve found a way to make the memories hurt even worse.

  I need to leave her alone before I hurt her any more.

  Tina’s waiting for me downstairs in the living room with her feet up on the coffee table. She drums her fingers on the arm of the sofa and shoots me a look that says she’s still trying to decide whether to pity me or to rip my throat out.

  “Do I even want to ask what you just did?” she asks sarcastically with a gleaming, sharp edge to her voice.

  I sit down next to her, lay my head in my arms on the table and take a deep breath before answering. My chest is so heavy that it feels like I’m going to suffocate.

  “I couldn’t stop reading it,” I whisper. “I found the book, and once I started, I couldn’t pull my
self away.”

  She gasps in abject horror. “Was it the green notebook?”

  The guilty tears pooling in my eyes are confession enough. I don’t need words.

  “You stupid fuck,” she yells at me, raising her hand as if to hit me, and I instinctively wince and draw back from her.

  “How could you do that to her?” she hisses, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. “How the fuck could you hurt her like that?”

  “I didn’t know...”

  “Yes, you did! What else would be in the ‘book of nightmares,’ hidden underneath her pillow, but her nightmares?” she shouts at me, and then drops her voice to a terrifying, hateful whisper as she continues. “You knew what happened to her. You knew what that book was and kept on reading anyway.”

  I hang my head in shame. She’s right. I did know. I have no excuse and I know it.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “You need to convince Maria that you mean that, not me,” she quietly tells me. “I’ll forgive you when she does.”

  I don’t know what to do. How can I possibly undo the damage that I’ve caused tonight? I don’t know if I could have hurt her any worse even if I’d meant to.

  “Should I go back up and talk to...”

  “No,” interrupts Tina, glaring angrily at me. “You should get the fuck out of our apartment. Right now.”

  I stare at her in bewilderment. “What? You want me to just get up and leave Maria like this after what I did?”

  “Yes, I do,” she answers incredulously. “Do you really think she’s going to forgive you tonight? Do you seriously think you can waltz back upstairs, say ‘Oopsie, my bad,’ and she’ll unlock the door and throw herself into your arms after you betrayed her?”

  Tina shakes her head and scoffs before continuing. “God almighty, Owen! How the fuck did you not see this coming? You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t claw your eyes out. Go home and let me at least try to calm her down first, okay?”

  She’s right; I’ve ruined everything. Her choice of words was perfect—I betrayed her. There’s no way Maria is going to forgive me for this. I get up from the sofa and drag my heavy heart toward the door. It somehow feels like the living room goes on forever and my legs are like lead.

  “Owen?” Tina calls after me.

  I look at her over my shoulder, hoping desperately that whatever she’s about to say is good news, that she’s thought of a way to fix my idiocy and undo the damage.

  “Goodbye,” she whispers, and then she gets up, hurries upstairs and leaves me standing alone in the doorway.

  Tina’s farewell drives it home for me as I trudge up the long staircase toward my apartment. There is no ‘happily ever after’ for Maria and me. She gave me her trust, fragile and beautiful, and I shattered it.

  A soft roll of distant thunder echoes along the rows of identical apartments and a raindrop hits my shoulder, followed by more and more droplets as the weather worsens. I knew it was going to rain tonight, but the thick, dark clouds overhead remind me of the powerful storms back home out east than normal Ithaca rain. I make it into my apartment just before the downpour starts.

  “Hey, Owen... you got some mail from the school,” Craig calls to me from the couch where he’s watching a soccer game. “I left it outside your door.”

  I don’t bother saying anything but instead continue straight past him and up the stairs to my room. I snatch up the small white envelope and lay on my bed as I rip it open.

  We regret to inform you that while your appeal is not without merit, University policy dictates that we must decline your request to...

  I crumple the rejection letter into a ball, hurl it across the room and then lay on the bed as abject misery consumes me. I hurt her in a way I’m only beginning to understand, desecrated her safe place, read through her worst fears and nightmares. I broke her trust in the worst way I possibly could have, and the sound of her hurt, betrayed tears fills my head and drowns out even the storm pounding on the roof.

  Monday, April 29 – In the darkest hour...

  Owen

  I wake up from my third nightmare of the night, scramble out of bed and fall clumsily to the floor. I’m dizzy, my head won’t stop spinning, and my garbage can floats nauseatingly back and forth in my field of vision as I try to crawl toward it across the carpet.

  My stomach clenches violently, a warning of what’s about to happen. I need to get to the garbage can soon or I’m going to throw up all over the carpet.

  I make it just in time. The stench of alcohol permeates the room as I heave my guts into the trashcan. I’m so dizzy that I can barely keep myself from falling over as my stomach empties itself again and again. What the hell did I do? I don’t remember this. I don’t remember any of this...

  ...but I recognize the empty bottle at the bottom of the garbage can. It’s Craig’s bottle of vodka. So that’s what I drank.

  “You’re drinking to cope, and that’s a really, really dangerous habit to get into,” Craig’s voice echoes inside my aching, addled head.

  No shit. I’m drinking to cope because my life’s crumbling around me. Anything that didn’t fall apart on its own, I broke because I’m fucking worthless.

  Maria’s heartbroken tears burst to life in my mind. She’s on the other side of the door from me again, locked inside her room, weeping bitterly because I’ve hurt her so badly.

  I struggle to my feet and cling for dear life to the bed frame as the room sways sickeningly. I’m drunk... so, so drunk. I want to get to the door but I can barely keep my eyes focused on it. It feels as if my brain’s spinning in one direction while the rest of the world spins in reverse.

  The door seems impossibly far away but I need to get to it. I need to get out the door and... I don’t know what then. I need to go downstairs. I should go outside. Is that it? I don’t know. I need to go somewhere.

  I need to get away. I need to get away from my father’s hateful glare and my mother’s cold hand. I killed her. I killed my mother. I signed that paperwork and let her die. I need to get away from my incredible ability to hurt anyone who comes near me, to ruin anything and everything. I betrayed Maria so badly that I might as well have killed her. I ruined my own future and failed a course just so I could kill my mother.

  And here I am now. Alone. Drunk. Trying to drown myself in vodka to forget what I’ve done.

  I need to get away from myself.

  Immeasurable, meaningless time passes as I creep slowly across the room, catching hold of anything that seems like it might support me on the way to the door. Finally I’m there, fumbling with the knob, nearly tumbling over as the door swings open.

  The hallway lurches to the left, or maybe it’s me stumbling to the right. I don’t know or care anymore. All I know is that I need to escape from myself before I hurt someone else.

  The stairs spin sickeningly in front of me, blurring in and out of focus, and suddenly I’m falling. Stair after stair... tumbling, falling, catching my shoulder painfully on the banister, until I finally hit the bottom. My arm throbs and my vision swims as I stare up at the ceiling. This seems so familiar...

  Samantha stares up at me, her neck contorted in an impossible way as she lies crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. Her beautiful gray eyes are empty, their sparkle quickly fading. I failed her. I failed her in the worst way I possibly could have. I can’t tell if my heart is sinking into my stomach or if my stomach is rising into my chest. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  “What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?” shouts Craig from upstairs.

  I struggle to my feet and steady myself against the wall as I head for the door. Craig races after me down the stairs, still in his boxers.

  “I’m okay,” I lie. “Just... I just have to go outside.”

  “Owen, you’re drunk. Get your butt over here and sit down,” urges Craig, but I ignore him and keep stumbling toward the front door.

  A crack of thunder rattles the windows and the power flickers for just long
enough to reset the clock in the kitchen. It’s still pouring outside but I don’t care. I’m inside, and I have to get away from myself, so I’m going outside. Maybe I won’t follow myself out there in the rain.

  I lose my balance and slam painfully into the wall, but I still push Craig away as he tries to stop me.

  “Owen, stop it!” he pleads with me as I finally reach the door. What does he think I’m trying to do? I’m trying to stop it, and the only way I can is to get away.

  “I... just stop. Let me go,” I babble almost unintelligibly. My voice slurs so badly that I sound like a completely different person. What happened to me? What have I done?

  “You killed Mom and betrayed Maria,” answers a harsh, cold voice inside my head. I can’t tell if it’s my own voice or my father’s.

  “Look, just wait for me to put on some clothes and I’ll get you over to health services. Give me two minutes, okay? I’m not letting you go out there alone,” Craig tells me, and then he pulls out his phone and starts dialing a number as he heads toward the stairs.

  Before he can stop me, I stumble outside into the pouring rain. Craig shouts after me but I ignore him and silently keep walking. I don’t need Craig’s help—he can’t help me anyway. I don’t care how drunk I am or how cold it is out here. I have to get away, and I don’t need a coat where I’m going.

  His voice soon fades, overpowered by the howling wind and torrential rain. The lights flicker again and then lose power completely, and I disappear into the darkness.

  ––––––––

  I can almost walk straight now, but my vision keeps spinning in slow circles as I stumble out onto the bridge. The wind is so strong out on the bridge that I can barely stay on my feet. Just a little further and I’m there... just a few more steps. A deafening crack of thunder echoes through the gorge and the streetlights flicker to life for just long enough to see the railing before plunging me back into darkness. I’m almost to the middle of the bridge.