The Missing- Volume II- Lies (3 page)

The sun started to come up and still I waited.

I hadn’t slept at all.

Because he hadn’t come.

Bradley hadn’t climbed the tree and opened my window.

He had left me alone.

Locked away and forgotten.

Abandoned.

I couldn’t decide if I was devastated or enraged.

Perhaps a little bit of both.

I had become invisible to the one person who had always seen me.

I pushed my finger into the tender spot above my lip, remembering the deformed girl he had protected. I thought of the ugly, scared child I had once been and how I had clung to the cold comfort he offered. It hadn’t been much, but it had always been enough. It was my constant.

He
was my constant.

That had changed. Bradley had altered something between us forever when he didn’t show up tonight of all nights.

Thursday was the worst day. Thursday was the best day . . . because of him.

He had taken that from me. Every cut, every wound open on my back burned with a pain I couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t find peace in the tailspin of my fragmented mind.

Because he wasn’t here.

I flushed red with rage that shattered quietly into total despair.

He had broken of a part of me. An important part.

And he knew it.

The Present

Day 6

A
nd when your heart begins to bleed,

You’re dead, and dead, and dead indeed.

“Oh my god!” I breathed, feeling myself start to panic. I tried not to scream.

“Oh my god!”

I started to shake, teeth chattering. I had to look. I needed to make sure.

But in the deepest, darkest part of me I already
knew.

Slowly I dropped my hands and stared at the hole in the wall. The hole that revealed my heart’s desire.

My greatest fear.

Accompanied by the twisting knife of betrayal.

Betrayal?

I frowned, my head feeling full and heavy. My feelings were incongruous with my thoughts.

Things were about to change. For the better. For the worse. I had no control over any of it. And the
right now
was spinning out of control.

I let out a noisy breath and got up on my knees, inching my way across the hard concrete. Not caring about the growing collection of scrapes and bruises on my legs. On my hands.

I pressed my face to the wood and looked through the hole again.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. After all, I couldn’t see that well without my glasses.

But she was close. Lying on her back, her face turned away from me. Dark hair fanned out around her as though someone had lovingly smoothed it down. I knew what that hair felt like. Silky and soft, running through my fingers like water. I knew the smell. Like cotton candy and
trouble.

“Let’s sing it together, Nora. You have such a nice voice.” Her eyes were so dark but so sincere. I loved spending time with her. Just the two of us.

I should have known it couldn’t stay that way. That some things were too beautiful to keep, no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how tightly I held on.

I should have known better than to covet such impossible things.

Happy endings were reserved for other people. Definitely not for me.

“Maren,” I breathed, desperate to say the name out loud. Missing the way it felt on my tongue. It had been too many hours, too many days since I had last said it.

“Maren,” I said again, a little louder, trying to get her attention.

She didn’t move. I couldn’t see her full lips and perfectly arched eyebrows. I couldn’t see the dimple in her chin or the scar on the side of her neck that she told me was a result of a skateboarding accident when she was six.

“Maren!” I screamed, choking on her name. Drowning in it.

“Maren! Maren! Maren!”

I beat my forehead against the wall, splitting the skin. Blood ran thick and red into my eyes, but I didn’t care.

Maren was here.

My sweet, sweet, Maren was here!

“Look at me! Please!” I begged, digging my fingers into the wood. My nails were bloody stumps, but I’d claw my way in to her if necessary.

I had to touch her. I had to hold her. I had to know that she was really there. My mind tried to piece together images and disjointed conversations. I remembered her face, radiant and smiling. I remembered the way my stomach clenched and the tight squeeze of my throat.

The tears.

The screaming.

The accusations and bitterness.

Why was she here?

“If you wanted to torture me, then you’re doing a damn good job!” I yelled, scratching the wood with ruined fingers.

My captor knew me well. Too well.

“Maren, can you hear me?” I was panicking. But I could also recognize the thrill at finding her here. The
terror
at finding her here.

“Please, just let me see her,” I cried. Was she breathing? Oh my god, was she even alive?

I couldn’t tell.

My stupid, barely functioning eyes couldn’t make out much beyond the familiar curve of her legs. I knew that the skin was smooth and pale beneath her jeans. I could see that she was wearing my favorite long, white T-shirt. The same shirt she had been wearing the day we met.

Her arm was outstretched beside her, palm upwards, fingers slightly curved. The nails were still a bright scarlet.

“What do ya think?” Maren asked, holding her hand out in front of her.

I grabbed her fingers and held them. Her smile faded a bit, but I pretended not to notice. Her hand stiffened in my grasp, but I wouldn’t let her go.

I held on.

“I like it. Do you think you could paint mine the same color?” I grinned at her, lacing our fingers together. Palms pressed together. For just a moment.

Maren laughed and I ignored the sting as she pulled her hand away and wrapped it again around the neck of the guitar in her lap. Because when she looked at me, the rest of the world faded away.

I stared at my nails. My plain nails free of any color.

She had never painted them.

My parched throat burned. My empty stomach rolled.

“Maren. Maren. Maren,” I blathered on and on. Somehow just saying her name made me feel better. Even if it was obvious she didn’t hear me.

I couldn’t move away from the hole in the wall. I kept my face pressed against the splintered slats. I watched and waited for a movement. Some small indication that she was okay.

Of course she’s not okay, you idiot! She’s here, isn’t she?
I silently admonished.

How long had Maren been here? Had she been on the other side of this wall the whole time? She must have been the source of the thumping I had heard . . . was it yesterday?

The day before yesterday?

Only an hour ago?

I had lost track of the days. It didn’t matter.

Maren was here.

It all came back to the
why.

The
who.

I was even more confused by the realization that I wasn’t the only one locked away.

I had to remember what happened. That last night we were together. I needed to put it together to get the big picture.

Then maybe I could get us out of here.

Because now it wasn’t just my life on the line. It wasn’t just
my freedom
I had to fight for.

I had to make sure we both lived through this.

“I’ll find a way out, Maren. I promise,” I whispered, worried about being overheard.

But I wouldn’t look away from her. Not yet.

Not yet.