The Missing- Volume II- Lies (8 page)

Bradley had a lot of resentment when it came to my dad. I understood it. My father was a coward in so many ways. But his easy dismissal of the only good thing in my childhood pissed me off. It had always been the only source of contention between us.

Until Maren.

“What’s the point of being angry with someone who’s gone?” I pointed out, feeling sad. I hated feeling sad. Why did Bradley insist on making me feel that way? Why did he bring up things I wished he’d leave alone?

Bradley picked up the bag of chips and held it out for me to take, which I did. “Let’s go, Nora. Let’s just pick up our bags and leave. Never look back.” He sounded needy. For just a moment I wished I could give him what he wanted.

But there were limits to what I would do for him. There was only so far I would ever be willing to go. I had been conditioned to stay. It was ingrained. I told myself that I was terrified, that if I tried to leave,
she’d
find me and it would be so much worse when she did.

But that was a lie.

I knew Mother would never look for me.

That’s not the reason I stayed.

I stayed
because
no one would look for me. And that, in my broken, needy heart, was so much worse.

“You could leave,” I suggested, knowing he never would. I could tell him that with the surety that he never would. I wouldn’t lose him because as long as I stayed, so would he.

“Not as long as you’re here,” Bradley answered, turning to look at me. Taking in all of my face. The horrible, hated scars. The ones on my skin and the ones hidden away. He saw them all.

I saw something in his green eyes that made me pause. Something that looked a lot like . . .
hate.

Did Bradley despise me? Deep down? I shuddered and wanted to cry at the thought.

Not Bradley.

My Bradley.

“I don’t want to keep you here. Not with everything you’ve been through—”

Bradley wrapped his hand around my wrist and squeezed hard, silencing me. “Stop it, Nora. Don’t mention it. Ever.”

My skin throbbed underneath his fingers. If he pressed a little harder, maybe he could break me. Could shatter me. It’s what he wanted.

We sat in the dirty, dark room. Together. He held me viciously. I let him. We were silent. We were miserable.

Together.

“You don’t need anyone else. Neither do I. We never have,” he whispered.

He wouldn’t allow me to give my heart away. Not to anyone.

Least of all to Maren Digby.

But it wasn’t his choice. This time I was making the decisions for myself.

“I wonder if Maren will come here?” I mused.

Bradley stared at me for a long time. I knew what he was thinking. And I knew how he was feeling.

Fear.

Loss of control.

Rage. Rage. Rage.

He let go of my arm and all but shoved me away. I almost fell over. He got to his feet and stomped out of the room that had once held my only joy. His anger fueled his footsteps as they receded down the hallway.

He left.

But he’d be back. Bradley would never be able to leave me.

Right?

I didn’t quite believe myself.

The Past

Four Months Ago

I
sat in the sunshine and felt warm all over. It was a good day.

So far.

Mother and Rosie were long gone by the time I got up this morning. So I had two hours all to myself. I ended up having to walk to school, which took almost an hour, but I was okay with that.

Anything was better than having to endure my typical morning routine of snide comments and open ridicule. I took extra time with my hair, smoothing it down so that it lay nicely over my shoulders.

I chose my outfit with care. When I dressed I didn’t feel like ugly, ugly Nora Gilbert. I felt like someone better. Someone prettier. Someone others could love.

I covered the scar above my lip and then promptly washed the makeup off. I scrubbed my face until it was red and shiny. I was tired of covering up. Of hiding.

What was the point?

Bradley had been waiting for me when I arrived on campus. After how things were left at the barn, I wasn’t sure I’d see him. I should have known better though. I could always depend on him.

My constant.

My Bradley.

And things were almost normal between us. We didn’t really talk, but he walked me to class. And the not talking was the most comforting thing he could offer.

Now I was sitting with Maren. Under her tree, listening to her music. Some people gathered around to hear her, and she was sweet and kind to everyone.

But most of all to me.

I didn’t understand this need to be around her. It was instinctual. Felt in the gut. But it overtook everything. It made me blind and deaf to anything that wasn’t Maren Digby.

“Your eyes look blue today,” Maren mused, giving me a smile. I lived my days around the prospect of those smiles.

I ducked my head shyly. “Sometimes they change colors. Usually depending on my mood,” I told her.

Maren ran her fingers along the strings of her instrument humming under her breath. “And what does the color blue say about your mood?”

I looked up at her through my lashes. “It means I’m excited. Happy. Content.”

Maren continued to smile, never faltering. I wished she would give me the attention she gave to her guitar. It was silly to be jealous of an inanimate object, but I was.

I wanted to smash the shiny piece of wood into a thousand, tiny pieces.

“I’ve been playing around with a few melodies, but I can’t tell if they sound lame or not,” Maren said, changing the subject all the while plucking at her strings. She was wearing her silver rings. One on each finger. Her wrists were covered in shiny bangles that glinted in the sun.

“I doubt they sound lame. I’m sure they’re amazing!” I laughed, leaning back against the tree trunk, my legs tucked underneath me. My hair was held back with a clip and it felt good.
I
felt good. No makeup. No hiding behind a curtain of hair. I wasn’t hunched over, hoping no one would see me.

I was here. I was present.

I was Nora Gilbert.

Maren rolled her eyes. “You always say stuff like that, Nora,” she scoffed good-naturedly.

I picked a blade of grass and twirled it between my fingers. “I say it because it’s true.”

Maren lightly kicked my knee with her foot and I tingled everywhere. “You’re really good for my self esteem, you know that?”

I sucked the grass between my lips, chewing it. “I like to make you feel good,” I told her softly, my voice rough. My eyes lingered on her lips. On her hair. On her neck.

Maren flushed and looked away. There was a strange undercurrent between us today. I liked it. It was unsettled and tense. Like the air before a storm. It was anticipation and awareness.

I spit the grass out and scooted a little closer. Maren’s was focused on her guitar again, and I felt as though we were in our own little bubble.

“I’d like to take you somewhere. Would you come with me?” I asked her. Maren continued to play, her dark hair concealing her face. This time, she was the one hiding. I relished in finding her.

I reached out and brushed her hair away, annoyed that I couldn’t see her.

“Would you, Maren?” I prompted.

Maren stopped playing and pressed her palm over the strings, silencing them. She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes troubled. “Where do you want to go?” she asked.

I leaned in a little closer, our arms brushed against one another. “Somewhere really important to me. Only Bradley knows about it. But I want to share it with you.”

Maren glanced up and my heart sped up. She was so beautiful. It was almost painful to look at her. I inhaled deeply, holding the scent of her in my lungs.

“Why do you want to share it with me, Nora? What do you think is going on here?” she asked, uncharacteristically short.

I captured a piece of her hair between my fingers, fascinated with its softness. I loved the dark, chestnut brown and silky texture. I wondered what I’d look like with long, dark hair. Would I be beautiful too?

“Stop, Nora,” Maren murmured, pulling back slightly, and my guts shredded into fragments. I was frightened that I’d overstepped. I felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells, afraid to press too much. But I was scared that if I didn’t make it clear how I felt, she’d never know. And Maren needed to know.

My love for her was fueled by fear. It heated my blood and chilled my heart. I was terrified by how much I wanted her. And how far she pushed me away.

Why did she always push me away? I knew she cared about me. We were intertwined in something necessary. Didn’t she realize that? Didn’t she know how much this thing between us mattered?

What did I have to do to make her see?

“Won’t you come with me?” I begged. I could hear the pleading note in my voice. I was desperate for her.

Maren seemed conflicted. I didn’t understand why. We were simple. We were perfect.

“Do you know what I noticed about you the first time we met?” Maren asked suddenly.

I smiled. “No. What?” I asked eagerly.

Tell me! Tell me!

“I saw a sad woman hiding her face. You were so intense that you scared me a little. But you also intrigued me. I liked you. Just how you were.”

I could burst with joy at her words.

She liked me.

Just as I was.

Maren fingered the hem of my shirt that was so much like the one she was wearing. I loved that we were dressed the same. I relished this connection. Forced and manipulated, but ever present.

“Why are you wearing this, Nora? It’s not you.” She frowned and I didn’t like the look on her face. It worried me.

I smoothed out the large T-shirt over my skinny jeans. I played with the bracelets on my wrists. “I like looking this way,” I protested, but not harshly. I could never be unkind to Maren. Not really.

Her brows furrowed and she seemed about to say something.

Would it be something I didn’t want to hear?

But instead Maren shook her head. “Where do you want to take me?” She gave me a bright smile, and I refused to acknowledge how insincere it was.

“Nora.”

Bradley appeared on the other side of the tree. He held a bag in his hand and a dark look on his face.

Maren’s expression changed at the sight of him. Only slightly. But I saw it. And I didn’t understand it.

She was unreadable.

“Hi, Bradley,” she said, giving him her smiles.

Bradley looked at her, which surprised me. He had never done that before. He typically ignored her completely.

“Hi, Maren,” he replied gruffly, begrudgingly.

Maren’s eyes widened and she looked at me in surprise. We were both shocked. Such a small concession from him wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“Can I join you?” he asked uncomfortably.

I opened my mouth to tell him no. To tell him that I’d see him later, but Maren beat me to it.

“Sure, have a seat. You can kick all that stuff out of the way.”

I pursed my lips shut and watched in horror, as my two friends uneasily existed in the same space.

What was going on?

“Thank you,” Bradley tried to smile but with his scabbed lip and bruised face, he looked monstrous.

Maren watched him as he sat down. I saw that she noted his pained movements. I recognized the flash of sympathy in her eyes as he gritted his teeth and tried to get comfortable.

Don’t feel sorry for him! He does it to himself! He’s not a victim!

The rage was scary and consuming and came out of nowhere. I was used to being mad, but I rarely felt it toward Bradley.

Bradley handed me the bag. “I got you something to eat. I figured you hadn’t had lunch yet.”

I felt guilty for my irrational anger towards him. He wasn’t my enemy. He was my protector. My always friend. I should appreciate that Maren was feeling sympathetic towards him given the less than great first impression he gave her.