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Chapter Twenty-Five

Jolie

I watch from the window as they talk about this situation, my head swarming with information. It all sounds so outlandish that I don’t know what to believe. It took everything in me to hold back from racing in to see Trace. His lies hurt the most because he is the only one that I remember, and I’m powerless to stop the tears rolling down my face.

I scramble around to the side of the house as I hear the murmur of voices coming from a window that is slightly ajar. Davis is asking Trace some random questions, like his name and age. A twig snapping catches my attention, and my glance finds Marlow leaning against a tree. I curse myself; he is always so damn perceptive.

“Wanna get wasted?” he asks, holding out a joint.

What do I have to lose? Busted, I move out from my hiding spot—not that the spindly trees hid much, anyway.

Coming to stand next to him, I let Marlow pull me into his side as he passes me the joint. “How much did you hear?”

I shrug. “The end. I don’t even think I have started to process it. I am pissed though—everyone has lied to me. It hurts that Trace isn’t who I thought he was, and that my memories were stolen from me. Now what?”

“I have an idea, but no one inside is going to like it,” he says, taking the joint back and inhaling, like he is not certain about this idea he has.

“And what’s that?” I ask, curious.

“Chester has recreated what he thinks could bring your memories back. They want to confirm it first with someone who is less than willing to hand over what they know.” He takes out a needle filled with a yellow liquid and swirls it around. “Or...” he says as I snatch the needle from his hand and ram it into my arm, the liquid burning as it enters. I throw the empty needle on the ground and wait. I feel nothing.

“Or we do that.” He laughs at my recklessness.

“I’m sick of all the lies. Most of all, I don’t plan on handing my body over to a man I don’t know, to do who knows what with me.”

Marlow nods. “Then I guess we better break the news to the others. Wanna bet who loses their shit first?”

“Ten bucks it’s Boston,” I say, taking another hit, knowing I will need to be super wasted for this.

“I don’t know, Creed could give him a run for his money. He may be super fucking weird, but as a girl, you managed to get him to play dolls and tea parties with you.”

Throwing the butt to the ground, Marlow takes my hand, and I walk on shaky legs towards the cabin.

“Honey, I’m home,” Marlow sings out as we walk through the door.

Everyone turns around to face us, but my appearance has stunned them silent. Trace steps out of one of the rooms, his eyes wide and hesitant. Yes, he has lied, and there is so much I still don’t know, but I drop Marlow’s hand and run towards him. He wraps his arms around me when I launch myself at him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my ear, and I hold on to him for what feels like forever. Everything else can be dealt with tomorrow—right now I want to hold on to the friend I lost, the one who would have done anything for me.

A cough disrupts the moment. “We need to tell you something,” Marlow announces.

I slide myself off Trace, and he takes my hand, moving us towards the living area. The two three-seater couches are nowhere near enough room for us all, so Laughn, Creed, Marlow, and Davis all opt to stand.

“Jolie, did you want to tell them what you did? I might not have to die if they believe you did it of your own free will.” Marlow makes me snort from the way he words it.

“Well, I kinda gave myself whatever medicine was in that needle.”

“You what? ” Chester yells, launching himself in my direction. “Lean her forward and ram your fingers down her throat.” It’s weird thinking he is in on this after believing he was the school’s guidance officer.

“What? I stabbed myself with a needle, throwing up won’t do shit.” What the actual fuck—that escalated fast.

I’m lifted from my seat from behind and I immediately know it’s Laughn. Boston, Marlow, Case, and even Davis have moved from their spots and are all standing in a wall in front of me.

“Don’t touch her! Tell us what is going to happen to her,” Boston demands.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tested it. She isn’t dead yet, nor has she had an anaphylactic reaction or seizures.” Chester turns to me. “How do you feel?”

“I have a mild headache, but that could be because this whole situation is insane. I’m so pissed off right now I want to run away and never look back.”

Laughn’s brother steps closer. He appears more normal than Laughn, but the look in his eyes tells me I should be afraid of him. The guys move aside, and Creed kneels in front of me. “Please don’t run—you were the one thing that helped keep my humanity. Without you, the darkness will consume me.”

“I don’t remember you,” I whisper, not wanting to spook him.

“Toge gai nakereba bara ga nai.”

His words make me reach out and run my fingers through his hair.

“Without thorns... there is no rose,” I whisper, and he looks up at me with hopeful eyes before an overwhelming wave of nausea hits me like a freight train.

I lose all sense of balance, my legs turning to jelly just as my vision blurs. Someone catches me and I can hear words, but none of them make sense.

Flash after flash of bright lights hit me under my closed eyelids, and the pain causes me to scream. Large arms wrap around me, whispering something in another language—Japanese. How do I know that?

I cry out as the memories that keep coming back are of boys, not these men that I have met. An intense, wrenching feeling squeezes at my heart. I feel it, the day I left with Trace. A snow-haired little girl, full of life and love, and then the car being hit. I gasp at the flash of Trace sticking a needle in my neck.

Everything keeps flickering through my mind, like watching a vintage handheld projector. The outside world fades away... and all I’m left with are my stolen memories.