(Blood and Bone, #1) Blood and Bone (15 page)

But I know why I forgot.

I wish I could again.

There is a horror show inside me. A lifetime of misery that was squeezed into a few short years and made to be enough to ruin me forever.

“Just breathe, Jane. Deep breaths will calm you down.”

I shake my head. “I remember. Pat came to the foster house I was sent to when the police called her. She fought with them in the yard, arguing about what they were going to do about it all. They left, and she took me. She smoked and sang, and everything changed from that moment on. He never saw me again. She made sure. I was nine.”

He rubs like he’s massaging. “She saved you, but she couldn’t save all of you. The memories and the nightmares and the sleepwalking. It was all mental scarring, damage that couldn’t be healed.”

The sleepwalking still seems crazy, but the small house of horrors seems crazier. The fact that’s all that’s wrong with me is a miracle. The memories weigh a ton inside me, and I know I have only a tenth of what’s there.

He lifts me up, carrying me back to the car. He places me inside, laying me down. I curl into the fetal position, holding myself tightly. “Who knows about this?”

“Everyone. Your personnel file has it mentioned a few times.”

I glance up at him. He’s on his knees in the dirt, staring at me. He looks apprehensive and scared. “So the world knew he was doing those things and they never took me away?”

“They put you in a home for foster kids because Pat was your only living relative. Pat lost it. She wanted to be certain you were not going into a home where the same thing would happen to you. She wanted to bring you to Texas, where she was living for work, but they said that you couldn’t leave the state until after the trial, and she had to apply for adoption. She knew the process would be lengthy, and you were a mess, so she just took you. She went the opposite way to North Carolina and rented a house and got a job and never looked back. She put you in therapy, but it didn’t help, and you ended up repressing most of it, recalling only a few details. But in your sleep it all comes back and you sleepwalk, kill things, and act savage. You have always done it. When you joined the military and government
they used your lack of emotion for their benefit. The same way they did me.” He strokes my head soothingly. “When we were assigned each other, we found one another in the dark, Jane, but we made light for one another. You are my light and I am yours.”

I believe him, but I fear I will always be stuck in the things that are associated with this house. I won’t age or grow beyond those moments. They’re a roadblock in my mind and heart.

10. SEE SAM LIE

T
he ride across town is painful. I don’t know what to think or say. Every thought has become linked to some aspect of the secrets I now know, secrets I gave up everything to forget. “I need to see Pat.”

He looks back at me with a frown. “We are disappearing, Jane. We need to re-create ourselves again. I’m taking this away from you again, erasing the damage. You understand why, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to leave her hanging like that again.”

He sighs but nods. “You can say good-bye this time. But then we leave and forget all about this vile coastline. There is nothing but horridness here. We’ll go to Europe, enjoy a beach or a village where nothing bad will ever happen.”

I nod. I’m lost on what else to do. He’s right, even if I don’t want brain surgery again. I’m not fond of the idea of being back where I started when my memory was erased, but I want the filthy feelings inside me gone, forever. I never want to come back here or see any of this again. I close my eyes, putting the passenger seat in
recline. “How did we decide on the plan? The one where you erase my memories.”

“It wasn’t the plan at first.”

“Just tell me how it happened.”

“It’s a long story.” He sounds like he’s trying to dissuade me from being interested.

“It’s a long drive back to North Carolina.”

His voice calms considerably, regardless of the disturbing aspects to the story. “I decided to kill you. I decided that it didn’t matter that I loved you. It was you or me, and I was choosing me. I got to your house, snuck inside, made a sandwich, and watched you sleep. I turned the night-light off, not fully understanding the ramifications that would have. I was halfway through my sandwich when you started to whimper. I don’t know why, but I walked to you, touching your hand so you would fall back to sleep. But you were awake, or so I thought. You reached over to undo my pants, tears running down your cheeks. I realized then how damaged you were. It broke my heart, what was left of it.” He turns, facing me, and I can see the raw emotions playing upon his face. “I understood the pain you harbored and the suffering you had endured. So I woke you from the strange sleepwalking sex act you were about to commit. We fought, wrestled around the room, you trying to kill me and me trying to defend myself without killing you. Eventually, I overpowered you and told you I knew who you were but I loved you. We kissed.” He stops there, but he’s blushing like there’s more to the story.

“Then what happened?”

He shrugs. “Well, nothing. Don’t get me wrong—you wanted more, but I could see what it all meant to you. Sex was a way to manipulate men and control them. So we talked. I came over every night. We talked and I cooked, and then we talked some more until one night you fell asleep with the lights off. When you woke in the morning we
stayed in the bed, in the silence, and we knew. I confessed I didn’t want to kill you, and I didn’t want to die, so the only solution was to run.”

“And that’s where we are now? On the run again?”

His eyes narrow as if he’s squinting to look down the highway better. “Not exactly.” He sighs. “We burned the car after the accident we staged and tried for three years to be an honest couple, traveling and hiding from our employers. But you slowly got worse and worse. Your paranoia, nightmares, and sleepwalking were getting so bad I didn’t know what else to do. The job had been a focus for you. It had closed off your brain. When you worked you didn’t have nightmares or sleepwalk. I looked into people with amnesia, operations that caused it, and accidents that resulted in it. We decided together it was the best option for you.” He pulls over to the side of the road and gets out of the car. He messes around in the trunk and comes back with a small box. He hands it to me and drives on. “This is everything we had from before the operation.”

He drives, and I flip through three years of my life that I will never get back. There is a small photo album with trips to different countries and holidays. In the beginning we are smiling and look happy. As I flip through it I can see the decline in myself. My skin becomes sallow and pale. My eyes have huge bags under them. My hair is darker and darker but messier and less glossy. By the end, in every photo I can see worry in his eyes and a hollow distant stare in mine. The last three pages are photos of me sleeping on trains and in cars and in beds. It’s disturbing how easily my father chased us around the world, even after he was dead.

When we get back to Pat’s, he stops the car, giving me a look. “Five minutes, okay?”

I nod, getting out and carrying the album to the front door. She opens the door with a leery look on her face. “You was gone when I got up. Ya been gone the whole day. I thought we was gonna spend time together.”

I nod. “Sorry. I had to see something.” She glances past me to the man in the car. I lift the photo album to block her view. “I have something I need you to see and that I need you to know.” She looks confused but opens the door wider so we can both walk in. I sit down on the floral couch and brace myself for the very real possibility she is going to tell me I am insane.

I flip to the start of the book. “Six years ago I ran away with a man named Benjamin. He was the first person I think I ever loved.”

She scowls at the photos. “I never heard of him.”

“I kept him secret. We traveled for three years, and I spent every waking moment trying to outrun my father and the things he did after Mom died.”

She swallows hard, shuddering a little. I know that feeling well.

“I went everywhere and did everything I could to be rid of it all, but it didn’t work.” I flip pages until I get to the depressed pages. She points at the one of me looking particularly horrid. “That’s how your momma looked when she died.”

I nod, not even a little suspicious about how that happened. “Well, I was done. I needed a new life. So I had an operation to make me forget everything. When I woke, I was told I was in an accident. I was told I was a victim of amnesia. I was convinced my life was perfect before the car accident. I had a great man who cared for me and a cat named Binx.”

The name of the cat makes her cry as she nods. “That makes sense.”

I turn to her as tears start to roll down my cheeks. “I need to go back to that place. That beautiful oblivion that sits there waiting for me. The innocence of my mind and creation of my new past is the only thing that’s going to save me.”

Tears roll from her oddly colored eyes, looking similar to mine, I imagine. She sniffles, sucking her trembling breaths momentarily before nodding again. “I don’t blame you at all. If I could have taken
it all away I woulda. I woulda done anything. I woulda walked through fire to make it go away. I didn’t know what was happening until the school called the social workers for help. I just didn’t know.” She lifts my hand to her lips and kisses, closing her eyes and gripping me. “Is there a world where I won’t remind you of him, or do I have to stay here in this world?”

I nod. “I think so. But you gotta leave this all behind. You must come with us, not tell anyone where you’re going and not be in communication with anyone. Can you do that?”

“I can.”

I wrap my arms around her, gripping her. “You are going to have to trust Benjamin Dash. Whatever he says is how it goes. He knows how to do this. He’s the person I trusted last time with my memory erasing.”

She sniffles and smiles, leaning into me more. “I will do whatever it takes. I don’t want to lose you again, Sam.”

The name makes me feel dirty. “Jane. I like Jane.”

“Jane it is.”

“We’re going to bring you with us this time. Pack your things, Aunty. You won’t be able to bring much, just the basics.” I kiss her cheek and get up, leaving her there. When I look back I try to be as upbeat as I can. “I’ll send him to come and get you. He uses the name Derek since we ran away.”

She smiles nicely. “I’ll be ready when he comes.”

“I have to go. The government might be watching the house.” I wave, clutching my photo album and hurrying outside. I run down the stairs to the car, realizing I might have led Derek into a trap.

When I get into the car he cocks a dark eyebrow at me. “Something you want to tell me?”

I nod. “Two things. She’s coming with me this time, and we have to leave now. Rory might be watching the house.”

He lifts his thumb, pointing behind us. “He’s right there.” He starts the car, driving carefully until he rounds the corner, and then lets his driving loose. He skids around the next corner, flying through the residential area, using the parking brake to skid around the next corner into an alley. We have done a complete rectangle, only we exit out the back of the neighborhood, away from my house. He drives fast, speeding away. I’m nervous, but he looks pissed so I don’t say anything about the driving. Instead, my hands don’t leave the holy-shit handles, and my breath doesn’t leave my lungs.

He turns several corners, passing people on the wrong side. Eventually, I close my eyes, ready to flip out. In the dark of my closed eyes, the driving feels more like a topsy-turvy sea, tossing our boat about. Suddenly we come to a complete stop, back up abruptly, and stop again. He turns the car off and sits quietly with only his breath making noises.

I open an eye, scared of what I’ll find, but it’s actually quite beautiful. He’s driven us to a small house with a huge yard surrounded by tall trees. The manicured spot is stunning—the sort of yard you would imagine grandparents would have out of boredom. No working person could maintain something like this. Rosebushes line the bases of the trees on one side and lilac bushes the other side. It must be fragrant in the spring and summer. We are parked in a garage of sorts next to the little white house. My hands cramp up as I release them from the handle, giving him a confused look. “Did you lose them?”

He nods. “Why did you trust him, of all people?” His voice is cold and distant. I don’t recognize it. “Why him?”

“He had a lot of evidence against you, and none of it proved you worked for any agency. You look like a serial killer to them.”

A small smile toys with his luscious lips. “I am what I am, Jane. I just prefer not to classify it.”

Something about the statement chills me. I know he’s sick. I can see it on him when he loses his control, but it’s easy to forget about when he’s being the Derek I’ve always known. It’s easy to see him as a regular man. To me he is the only man. I take his hand in mine, trying to ignore how cool and clammy it is when I bring it to my lips. “I love you, Derek.”