Nearly Broken (13 page)

“If what you’re
saying is true, then why brainwash me? If all those girls were stolen
to be sold as…you know…” Was I the only one that
escaped? Were they being sexually assaulted right now? I groaned as
my stomach began churning the acid within, making me queasy at just
the thought of that shithead violating me even one more time. “Why
even bother if they’re going to lock us up in a room somewhere
anyway?” I forced myself to finish.

“So you’d
be hopeless,” he said sadly, like it was the most obvious
answer in the world. “Those people had you believing that you
lost everything. Your family. Your home. You had nothing. Nowhere to
go and no one to look for you. So even when you escaped, you never
even knew you were loved. He wanted you to stay and live with him in
that house willingly. If he had intended to lock you away in a room
then no, I don’t think they would’ve bothered
brainwashing you first.”

Whimpering over those
last few words, my feet stumbled backwards until I hit the wall, and
I willingly allowed my body to slide and collapse to the floor. “Why
would I… Why would Claire believe any of that? If she had a
loving family… How could they just erase all those memories
and fill her head with such nonsense?” My lower jaw quivered
and I fought the sting as tears began to well behind my eyes. But the
dam broke and flooded my face with zigzagging streams. “And if
I’m Claire, why would they ever want me back? If I forgot them
so easily, how could they ever forgive me for that?”

Nick had been keeping
his distance, but his expression became suffocated with pain, and he
threw himself to his knees to sweep me into his embrace. My chest
heaved uncontrollably as I gasped for air to pass through my swollen
throat and fill my lungs.

I wasn’t
absolutely sure I was Claire, but everything he said made sense. The
lack of memories. The nightmares where my parents seemed so
disappointed in me, the fear that always overcame me when I dreamed
of them, and how they could ever leave me to someone so vile.
Sometimes I wondered what made them choose that guy above all their
other friends.

“It’s not
your fault,” Nick soothed, gently swaying me, comforting me.
“There’s no telling how long it took them to break you.
Or how they went about doing it.”

Ugh. That was a
horrible thought. What
did
they do to convince me of these
lies? Part of me was pissed enough to go searching inside my head for
answers, but the other part of me was scared shitless to find out the
truth.

“It was their
job to go after you until you broke. Your family won’t hold
that against you.”

Choking on the nasal
fluid rushing down my throat, I cried, “But I don’t
remember those people. There’s nothing in my head, not even in
my dreams. How am I supposed to consider them family when I don’t
even know who they are?”

“You didn’t
remember me either, did you? But once I inserted myself back into
your life, your dreams and your subconscious recognized me. Even if
you didn’t.”

I pulled my head from
the soothing niche between his neck and shoulder, and gazed into his
loving emerald eyes. “When did I recognize you?”

His smile warmed my
heart. “When you called me Nickolas.”

“I did call you
that, didn’t I?” Yelled it, in fact.

He nodded. “I
never gave you or anyone else that name here. You remembered it all
on your own. And you only ever called me Nickolas when you were
pissed off or upset with me.”

Like I was when I
shouted it earlier. How did I not catch that? “Nick?” I
said, searching deep within his eyes. “You weren’t in
that photo album, but you said you were here to watch over me. So who
are you to me?”

He gently tucked some
stray hairs behind my ear. “I think you already know that.”

We slept the rest of
the day, with his body spooning mine underneath the covers. Nick
called Paul to tell him I was in no state to work and he refused to
leave me alone to work himself, so for the first time since I began
working there, Breenie’s Diner wouldn’t be open for the
night shift.

It was Paul that
initiated the downward spiral my life took these past three weeks. Or
maybe it was considered an upward spiral now, as it seemed to have
resulted in a positive outcome. He’d seen the
missing
girl
flyer for Claire Whitaker when he traveled to Seattle one
weekend. Apparently, he’d always been suspicious of my past
since all my legal documents burned to ashes and I couldn’t
remember my social security number. And with such a common name like
Megan Smith, it’d been impossible to run some type of
background check on me. He’d only taken my word at face value
because he saw the burned flesh on my arm when I reached out for the
application paperwork. It was because he thought I was running away
from a bad situation that he offered me a job and a place to stay.

Thea had taken Paul’s
call, and took it upon herself to check me out. She didn’t want
to tell Nick or her parents, to give them hope when she feared there
was none left, so the shock and awe on her face that night was honest
and sincere. The police had long since warned her that even if I was
ever found, I may not remember them anymore, so she knew not to push
me just yet. Though I’m sure it was the most difficult thing
she probably ever had to do, Thea forced herself to say goodbye, then
consulted the others. Her parents wanted to just whip me up and take
me home, but their Psychologist friend told them it would do more
harm than good, and that forcing themselves on me would probably push
me further away.

It was Nick’s
idea to work beside me, to befriend and ease his way back into my
life, the boyfriend I never even remembered. Guess it was lucky that
my heart was just as enamored as Claire’s was. But my parents
couldn’t just keep away. They had to see me with their own
eyes, too. That’s why Nick was so determined to wait on them
when they came to Breenie’s that night, to make sure they could
handle hanging around without letting their emotions run away them.
Nick wouldn’t let me take over their table until he was
confident they wouldn’t say anything to make me suspicious. No
wonder they stuck around so long, needing endless refills of coffee.

I had been lying there
awake for an hour now, indulging in the warmth from Nick’s body
to even relieve my bladder. I could sense him beginning to stir, the
sound of his breath becoming quieter, the arm thrown around me
beginning to tighten.

“This is weird,”
I mumbled. I sensed his head lifting off the pillow, waiting for me
to explain, probably secretly hoping my comment didn’t pertain
to him. “My head is filled with all these memories that may
have never actually existed. And if none of those ever happened, then
I’ve got nothing. My entire life has been taken away from me.
The only memories I have that I know are real, are the most haunting
of all. What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to go forward
now that I can no longer trust my own thoughts, when what they’re
telling me might not even guide me in the right direction?”

“I don’t
know. Maybe you have to find a way to disassociate yourself from
everything that’s happened so far. Just start over. Get new
clothes. Cut and dye your hair if you have to. Change your name
again.”

“You don’t
like my name?”

“Not if it’s
the name they gave you, no,” he answered bluntly.

“They didn’t,”
I said quietly. “They called me Natalie. I chose Megan after I
escaped.”

His hand gently swept
back and forth against my sleeve-covered arm. “Then I like
Megan,” he said kindly.

After a few content
moments, I dared to ask the question that had been weighing heavy on
my mind.

“So what now?”

“Well, I’d
like to get back to my real cooking gig, but I’m not going to
leave unless you’re coming with me.” I turned in his
grasp to face him. I loved the sensation of his fingers brushing
through the roots of my hair; it was almost hypnotizing. “It’ll
give you the chance to start over. Try to figure out what your next
step is.”

“Where is home
for you?” I recalled him claiming Washington as his home state,
but he never specified a city. I now realized that in order for him
and Claire to have dated in high school, he had to reside in Seattle.
Right there with Claire’s family. Who desperately called me
their own but who I felt no emotion for whatsoever, other than pity
for losing their youngest daughter.

“Portland.”

That surprised me, and
I rolled my head far enough back to catch his gaze. “Did I…did
Claire know that?”

He nodded and
murmured, “Mmm-hmm. I was attending a culinary school there
when she was taken.”

I lay my head back
down. So Claire knew about Portland. Of all the cities I had to
choose from, that was the one that called to me. Was it just a
coincidence, or was it an instinct within that told me to go there?

To find Nick.

To find safety.

It didn’t take
long to pack our stuff. Nick hardly ever pulled anything out to put
back in, and most of my things were already packed and ready for me
to bolt. Nick never said anything about that, though I was sure he
noticed the first time he looked inside my closet. And now that he
knew the truth, there was no need for him to inquire about my packing
habits.

As he took the rest of
our stuff to the car, I turned to take in my apartment one last time.
It wasn’t much, but it had been my haven for more than a year
now. I came here damaged and alone, but had somehow managed to piece
myself back together again.

Well, mostly. What was
left, Nick seemed to be slowly mending back together for me. But what
if this effort was all for a girl that didn’t exist anymore? Or
a girl yet to be found, and me just a case of mistaken identity? It
tore at my heart that I might be taking away what little hope another
girl could be holding onto.

I sensed Nick standing
in the doorway behind me, probably leaning against the doorframe,
allowing me to finish whatever thoughts were flowing through my mind.
“What if I’m not really her?” I asked, my back
still facing him. “What if this has all just been some weird
coincidence? Like maybe I was taken and given that tattoo to make me
look like Claire? And if I’m me and Claire’s Claire, then
I was taken six months after her. I would’ve been a good
replacement for someone that really wanted her.”

Inaudible sounds came
from behind, then hands swept down my cloth-protected arms, finally
extending the length to my hands, where his fingers threaded mine. My
eyes closed, the sensation of his body pressing firmly into mine so
soothing that it overwhelmed me. It both scared and thrilled me as a
tiny zap of electricity tingled my insides.

His cheek pressed
against my temple. “Would you like to know for sure?”

My chin lifted
slightly in his direction. When I didn’t respond verbally, he
continued, “I talked to a friend of mine that’s a medical
technologist. He said if you wanted to get a DNA test done to match
you to Claire, he’d bump you up and add you to the next run. If
that’s what you want. You could know by the end of the week.”

“Is that what
you want?”

I felt his shoulders
shrug. “I don’t need a test to confirm what I already
know. Same for the Whitakers. We all knew the moment we spoke to you.
We could sense traces of your former self in you. Your dialect, the
way you move, the way you twist your hair around your finger when
you’re lost in thought. This test would be for you. So
you’ll
finally know what
we
know.”

“And if it comes
back negative?”

“It won’t,”
he said quickly.

“Nick,” I
whined, needing him to acknowledge that nothing had been proven yet,
that I could still just be me, and Claire just be Claire.

He tried to cover his
silent sigh, but I felt the rise and fall of his chest against my
back, and heard the slow exhalation as it pushed between his lips.
“If we have to, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to
it. Agreed?”