Blurred Truth (The Blurred Series Book 2) (16 page)

Natalie

Regret.

I regret ever telling Ryan I couldn’t see him anymore, especially after last night’s revelation.

Last night, when I told Nate that I couldn’t understand why Ryan would do any of what he’s done; why he would leave without a trace and why he’d, basically, catfished me in the first place, Nate told me what happened when they first moved up here to attend college.

“I wish he were here to tell you himself. I sort of feel like it’s a betrayal for me to tell you, but I think it’s something you need to know, to make...sense of things,” Nate explained. “You know Ryan had a rough home life. Mom and Dad didn’t know the full extent of it, so they didn’t get the authorities involved. Even I don’t know what his home or parents were really like. To this day he’s never opened up about it, but I know it affected him more than anyone realized back then.

“I know this because when we first got to college, we shared a dorm together, and Ryan went off the rails. He was drinking, I think he did drugs, too, though I don’t know for certain. Then one day he went missing. He was M.I.A. for thirty-six hours and the police wouldn’t do anything to help for one reason or another. They just told me to start calling hospitals and hotels to see if he’d been admitted or checked-in.

“I eventually found him at a motel. He’d slit both his wrists with a razor and was bleeding out on the bathroom floor.” My jaw dropped on a gasp, but it didn’t deter Nate from continuing the horrifying story. “The only reason he survived was because I’d called an ambulance before even heading to the motel. I don’t know what made me do it, but I just...knew.”

“Oh, my God, Nate! What if he did it again? What if it’s already too late? We need to find him!” I said, maniacally, unable to calm my racing heart and the surge of fear that had permeated every cell of my being.

“He won’t. He’s in a different place now, mentally. He won’t do that to us,” Nate said with a level of confidence that eased my anxiety, just a little. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was also trying to convince himself.

“How do you know that?” I asked with some skepticism.

“I know, because you already saved him,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“What? What do you mean?” I queried with confusion.

“I didn’t realize until the day he left, when he told me everything; about talking to you online for the last five years; about when he started first talking to you in that chat room.

“They kept him in the hospital for a while after the motel. On suicide watch. When they discharged him, they referred him to an outpatient program, which he hated, and I don’t think it did anything to help.

“He became withdrawn, or so I thought. Always staying home in the dorm room, constantly on the computer, pretending to be doing school work. But he no longer seemed to be on self-destruct; so, I let him.

“After a few weeks of that, he just seemed...better. Happier. He became really focused on school, started going out and socializing on the weekends, like the old Ryan I knew back in high school. He got a new tattoo, which seemed to solidify his new attitude to life, though I still, to this day, don’t know for sure what the tattoo says or means to him.

“Now I realize it was around the same time you guys started talking to each other. I’m also willing to bet good money that the tattoo he got was something to do with you. He’s never told anyone what it says, though.

“I honestly believe you saved his life, Natty,” Nate says, meeting my eyes with that last statement.

“Oh, wow,” I say, dumbstruck.

I knew, from talking to Land, that he'd reached a low point before we met and tried to end it all. But Nate’s recounting of events makes it so much more horrifying.

So many things I never understood about Ryan are starting to click into place, like a jigsaw puzzle, but there are still so many missing pieces that only he can give us. “That explains why he didn’t want to tell me about that tattoo. He wouldn’t have been able to explain it without the truth coming out about the chat room...stuff,” I surmised.

“Yeah,” Nate agreed.

“We have to find him, Nate. We
have
to,” I emphasized, gripping Nate’s forearm.

“We’ll find him when he wants to be found, Nat. Until then, we just have to live our lives without him,” he said, standing from his seat at the breakfast bar and taking our empty cocoa mugs to the sink.

“I wish I knew how,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Now I know for certain that Ryan wasn’t playing some trick all along. I know that everything between us was real. I know I should have heard him out that night when I discovered the truth. Instead, I pushed him away and made him leave, because he thought that’s what I truly wanted.

All I really want is for him to come home.

Natalie

Anger.

I’m so angry with myself, with Ryan, with Nate for not making him stay.

Why didn’t we make him stay?

Why is he just...
gone
?

Natalie

Sadness.

I’ve become an echo of the girl I used to be.

I forced myself to behave like nothing had happened for the first two weeks after Ryan left me and took my heart with him. Or maybe he left it here in so many pieces that it’s unrecognizable. I’m not sure.

I blamed myself for him leaving, and then I got angry. Angry for the last five years of lies, and angry that he just left without a word. Angry at myself, too. Both for believing him and for driving him away.

So many conflicting emotions.

Then, one day, I just couldn’t keep going anymore. I couldn’t keep looking at myself in the mirror every morning and telling myself I could act like nothing was wrong. Smile at customer’s like my world hadn’t come crashing down around me this year. Exchange pleasantries with the regulars. Saying,
“I’m good,”
every time someone asked how I was.

I cracked.

I haven’t left the apartment for a week now. An entire week. I wouldn’t even know that, if Nate hadn’t told me the last time he tried to persuade me to come back to the land of the living.

My days are made up of anxiety attacks and losing myself in fictional stories, just to escape the thoughts in my head. When I’m not reading, my brain feels like an internet browser with a thousand tabs open at once.

Complete overload.

But today, something feels...different. I feel like a change is coming. Like maybe my self-imposed solitude may come to an end soon, if I could just find the strength to make it happen.

“You need to start living again, Natalie,” Nate says as he listens to me sob into my pillow for what feels like the millionth time. “Before you know it, a week will be a month and the rut will be even harder to climb out of.”

I’m so tired of cryin
g.

“Don’t make me leave the apartment. Please! I can’t,” I beg through my tears, more to myself than to him.

I know Nate would never force me to go out, but I just might force myself to. My subconscious knows and she’s begging me to stay in the solace of my quiet, safe bedroom.

Where
he
can’t hurt her again. Where nothing can.

“You know I won’t, sweetie,” Nate whispers.

“You’ve still not heard from him?” I ask, with a hint of hope surfacing in my shaky voice.

Maybe he’ll call today
.

“No. Still nothing. I’m sorry,” he answers somberly.

This whole situation has been made ten times harder because Ryan hasn’t contacted anyone since the morning he left us, and that fact terrifies me. Especially after what Nate told me about his past.

I don’t even know that he’s still
alive
. I think I’d feel marginally better if I knew, for definite, that he was at least still breathing the same air as me; looking up at the same moon at night; but I don’t.

“I’ve got an idea,” Nate breaks through my morbid thoughts. “You don’t need to go anywhere or even leave your room, but I want you to start writing again. Not for work, but for you. Maybe you should write about...all of this.” He gestures around him at nothing in particular and continues, “Everything that’s happened this year? I think it would be good for you. Cathartic.” He gets up off my bed and heads to the door.

His idea isn’t bad. I wouldn’t have to see anyone or pretend I’m okay, when I’m clearly not. Maybe something good could come from all this pain.

“Okay, I’ll try. I promise,” I say, sitting up on my bed and wiping the tears from my face.

“That makes me really happy, Natty. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah,” I sniff. “Thanks, Nate. I love you.”

“Love you too, Little N.” And with that, he leaves me with my thoughts, which aren’t quite as bleak as they were before he came into my room.

* * *

Writing is very therapeutic, as it turns out.

After I pulled myself together this morning, I sat down at my laptop and haven’t stopped since, not even for food, but there’s nothing new there. I’ve lost nearly five pounds since Ryan disappeared. It’s not a good look; my clothes are starting to hang off me, even my leggings, which I’m now wearing with the slippers Ryan is so fond of.

As I write about my time talking with Land...or Ryan - same diff - an idea hits me.

Ryan’s cell phone has been disconnected since the day after he left, so no one has been able to call or text (I tried about a million times, believe me). Nate has reached out to some people back home, but hit dead-ends every time. Something we haven’t tried, however, is the internet.

Ryan isn’t on any social media sites, despite his career being in the field of computer technology (far too easy to hack for information, he'd said), but he does have at least one online account that I know of.

The chat room
.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before now. I guess I was too caught up in the throes of my depression to think logically. Now the writing has cleared some of the debris from the wreckage that is my brain, I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.

Clicking over to a new tab, I open the chat room and log in.

[Compose New Message]

I don’t know if this will reach you where you are, wherever that is, but I hope it does.

I miss you. We miss you. Nate doesn’t say much, but I know this has affected him greatly. I think he’s been protecting me from his true feelings, because I’ve been… Well, I’ve been a mess. I won’t sugarcoat it.

It’s ironic that the one form of communication that ruined everything is now my only hope of reaching you.

I wish you hadn’t left. I wish you’d stayed and fought for us. I wish you’d stayed so we could’ve screamed at each other and got it all out. All the hurt. All the confusion. Instead, I’ve been left with a hole where my heart used to be. Where you used to be.

I know it’s my fault you’re gone, but it’s your fault that I said what I said. I was upset, but you didn’t have to listen to me. Why do you always listen to me so intently?

I’m still confused as to why you did what you did, but my long talks with Nate have made me see that you weren’t trying to trick me. At least not intentionally.

I’m scared. I just want to know you’re ok, at least. Where are you?

Please come home.

Natalie x

[Send]              [Delete Draft]

I hit the ‘send’ button and close my laptop. My pulse is erratic, full of adrenaline from spilling my heart out (what’s left of it) to Ryan. The cause of all this heartache. I know I’m partly to blame for him leaving, but he owns the fact that he cut off all contact with
everyone.

If he’s still alive, I might just kill him myself for putting us through this.

Okay, maybe not, but he definitely deserves a firm slap to the face.

If he ever comes back, I’m gonna slap the shit out of his beautiful face.

I miss his face.

Ryan

It’s been over a month since I left.

It’s been that long since I’ve talked to the only people I love.

I disposed of my cell phone when I left; breaking it into pieces before dumping it in the first river I crossed whilst heading south. To where? I’m not sure.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them; to
her
. I want it more than anything in this world, but that might put them in danger, so every time I see a payphone, I will myself to keep going. To not make that call.

I figured if Sykes found my cell number, he could find a way to track it. Before he got put away for the break-in of Natalie’s family home, among other charges that were brought against him, he wasn’t the most powerful or high-tech of criminals out there, as far as I could tell. But people like him make friends in prison. People who could have advanced his reach beyond our small hometown.

It might be overkill to not even use a payphone, but I’m not taking any chances. It would be better if I just pretend that Nate and Natalie never existed at all.

Physically, I know I can do it, but in my heart, the loss is almost unbearable. I received a second message from her on our chat room this morning and, just like the last one, I couldn’t think of an adequate reply.

From: BabyDove94 at 09:56am

Happy Thanksgiving. Though it could never be truly happy without you...or my parents.

I hope you’re happy, wherever you are today.

As it’s the day of giving thanks, I’m thankful for having some of the best months of my life with you. Even if I never get another day, I’ll always be thankful for the time we had.

It’s been more than a week since my last message. I guess you haven’t been on here. At least not yet. The possibility that you have, and just haven’t responded to me, is too painful to accept.

I’m praying this finds you well and that you’ll log on soon. Please come home.

I still love you.

Your little dove x

She loves me. How?

Tonight, as I lay in yet another lonely motel room, I imagine Natalie laying beside me. Her sandy-blonde hair fanned out on the pillow next to mine. Her petite body curled up in her favorite sleeping position, nestled tightly in my arms as she sleeps. The same image I see every damn night. It both soothes me and makes the ache in my chest worse.

I never got the chance to explain everything to her after what happened on her birthday. I didn’t hang around long enough to even write a note. I packed a small bag and rode into the night on my bike, calling Nate at my first gas stop to tell him I wouldn’t be coming back.

I hope he thought of something comforting to tell her.

I regret my choice of transportation now. The late fall air is unkind, and I’m wishing I’d chosen my truck, instead.

Just another stupid decision to add to the ever-growing list.

As my breathing begins to even-out, lulling my brain into sleep, a vibration on the nightstand brings me back to consciousness and I curse the damn burner phone. It’s hard enough getting to sleep these days as it is. I’ll probably be up all night now.

Knowing there’s only one person with the number to this phone, I answer quickly, regardless of my irritation.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Grayson Knight says on the other end of the line.

“I know it’s you. What do you have?” I say curtly.

“Watch the attitude, Landon. I know this is a stressful situation for you, but don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor by putting my guys on this job,” he explains with authority in his tone. “And let’s also not forget that this job is potentially dangerous for everyone involved. You’ve asked me to hunt down a convicted felon. A felon you suspect of murder, no less.”

“I don’t suspect; I know. And I seem to remember that when I agreed to hack for you, you promised certain things.”

“I pay you well for those jobs, Ryan. Anything beyond that payment is still a favor that I do for you out of the kindness of my heart, understand? You have a powerful ally in me, Ryan. Don’t be foolish and take it for granted.

“You have my respect, but do I have yours?”

Shit.

I am being a total dickhead to the one guy I need in all of this. It’s all of these emotions coursing through me. I’m a dickhead to everyone these days. Even the little old lady who served me breakfast at IHOP this morning.

“Yeah. Of course. Sorry. I’m just...tired,” I explain regretfully.

“Okay, then. Write this down-”

After I find a pen and paper in the drawer of the nightstand, Grayson reels off an address that sounds familiar.
Too
familiar.

“Are you sure that’s the right address?” I ask, staring at the small piece of paper I just wrote it down on.

“Absolutely. My P.I. has had eyes on it all day and confirmed three separate sightings of the guy you’re looking for. The last sighting was two hours ago. He left in a car with a small duffle bag, and hasn’t been back since. My guess is he won’t be back tonight.”

“FUCK!” I yell into the quiet room, one hand gripping the phone so hard I hear it crack, the other gripping my ever-lengthening hair.

“Whoa, what’s the problem? I thought you’d be happy with this development?”

“That’s
their
house!” I exclaim.

“Whose house?” Grayson queries with confusion.

“
Theirs!
Natalie and Nate’s. Their parents’ house. The one they grew up in. The one that got sold a few months ago at auction. He probably already knows where they’re living now. He would’ve seen their current fucking address on legal documents, right?”

“Yeah. Shit. He would have.”

“
FUCK!
”

I’m about two hours north of that house right now, which means he’s probably about the same distance from Natalie as I am.

I never should have left. He knew I would, after that text.

I’m really fucking glad I chose the bike. I’ll be faster than him.

I have to get home.