Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found)

by Nadia Simonenko

  It’s even worse than just Darren. It’s Darren and my brother and my whole family coming together, all pretending that everything is fucking lovely when nothing is lovely and everything is broken. I’ll have to play along too, because they don’t know what happened and they’d hate me if I told them. I’ll have to act friendly to the man who ruined my life while he stands there leering triumphantly at me.

  I can’t do it. I’d sooner kill myself.

  “I’m so sorry, Maria,” whispers Tina, still holding me tightly. I don’t need her to be sorry, though; I need her to think of a way out of this. Right now, I desperately need the Tina who’s always saved me from myself, but not even she can help me tonight. She can hold my hand through nightmares and keep me safe and grounded during my paranoia, but she’s powerless against the real Darren.

  I stayed strong through my interviews and held it together even when Owen threw me away, but this is too much for me. An enormous lump forms in my throat, and even as I clench my jaw tightly shut and try not to let out that first agonizing whimper, I know I can’t stop it. It forces itself painfully up my throat, and then the floodgates open as it escapes through my lips. All I can do now is cling to Tina as tears pour down my face.

  Everything’s falling apart. Owen’s gone, I’m right back where I started, and I have to face the nightmares all over again.

  No, I’m even worse off than when I started. I’m still weak and alone, but now Darren’s coming for me.

  Friday, March 29 – 3:45 AM

  Maria

  I wake up screaming for the third time tonight and immediately leap out of bed. I keep hoping that this next nightmare will be the last and that I’ll finally be able to sleep, but it comes back again every time I close my eyes. It’s the same nightmare as always, the same terrible memory up in Micah’s bedroom, but it’s changed horribly. I’m more scared of the change than I am of Darren.

  I have to write it down. I hate my notebook now, but I have to trust that someday it’ll work and that the nightmares will end. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m running out of ideas and I’m desperate for this to end.

  It’s been two days since I last spoke to Owen. Two days since I last had a full night’s sleep. I’m so scared of what’s happening to me—so terrified of Owen leaving me and of seeing Darren—that all my nightmares are coming back again.

  I sit cross-legged on the floor, cocooned in my blanket, and I start to write.

  Darren pushes me down on the bed as I freeze in place. I can’t run away from him. I can’t struggle. I can’t even scream. All I can do is lie on the bed, my eyes wide with fear as leers at me. At first he only leers, squeezing my wrists painfully as he holds me down, but then as my body stiffens, he doesn’t bother restraining me anymore. He knows I’m not going anywhere, that my body has abandoned me and left me defenseless against everything he’s doing to me.

  Fear has completely paralyzed me. I can’t even scream. I want to scream so badly.

  Why is this happening? Why is he doing this to me?

  Owen sits motionless at the foot of the bed only feet away, facing the wall. What’s he doing here? He was never here. The nightmare is changing now, putting him into it in places he never used to be before.

  Why doesn’t he stop Darren? Doesn’t he see what Darren is doing to me?

  “Please, just turn and look at me,” my thoughts desperately beg him. I can’t move. I’m completely paralyzed with fear, and I can’t even call out to him.

  Please let me scream. Just make a sound, Maria... any sound! If Owen hears me, he’ll turn around and see what’s happening to me. He’ll save me. I know he will.

  Darren laughs and reaches for my skirt as I lay in agonizing silence. He’s about to break me forever and my body won’t even let me cry.

  That’s when I woke up, screaming like I wish I’d been able to when I was fifteen.

  Why is Owen in my nightmare now? He doesn’t belong there. I know it’s just my brain playing cruel tricks on me, but I still don’t want him to see me like that. Telling him about what happened is one thing, but for him to see me broken and at my weakest is too much. The nightmare hurts enough already without Owen sitting there, but now it’s as if the terrible memory wants to hurt me even more. It’s angry at me for almost escaping, for finding someone I felt safe with even if I lost him already. I didn’t worry about Darren all through spring break. I didn’t think about him even once the entire time. Owen and I were happy together for an entire week, but now the nightmare is using him to hurt me even worse.

  “I should go back to bed,” I think, staring at the alarm clock as I climb back into bed. It’s almost four in the morning and I don’t need to be up until seven for class. I can sleep a little longer. Maybe. It felt good to write the nightmare down and let my worries flow into the paper, so maybe I’ll be able to sleep now. I’ll be fine for the rest of the...

  My eyelids flutter shut and I plummet straight down into Hell again.

  Darren grabs me tightly and lowers me down onto the bed with that horrible smile on his face, the terrifying smile that promises that it’s going to hurt me again just like it has for seven years. My heart races faster and faster as he pushes me down onto the bed, and my breathing quickens and grows louder and louder in my ears. My heartbeat is so loud that it sounds as if someone is drumming on my head. The nightmare takes on a red tinge as he reaches down and forces my legs apart. Owen is standing behind him, watching silently as it happens...

  My eyes snap open and I press my face into the pillow to muffle my screams. My throat is so sore from screaming that I’m starting to lose my voice. I'm never going to get to sleep. I’m having a breakdown, aren’t I? I’m actually going insane. I can’t live like this! I can’t spend all day exhausted and shaky and then spend all night in Micah’s bed, watching helplessly as Darren rapes me over and over again.

  My phone jingles merrily from across the room and snaps me out of my terrified reverie. Who’s sending me text messages at this time of night? The clock mocks me with its shining red 5:52 AM, and I sigh and get out of bed to check my messages.

  God, how is it so cold in here? My room is carpeted and my feet still freeze the second they touch the ground. Lacey must have shut the heat off again. She always complains about having to pay her share of the bill and thinks she shouldn’t have to since she spends half her time at her boyfriend’s place. If she wants to get out of the bills, she should sublet her damned room and go move in with him already. She spends enough time there as it is.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes and stare at the text message in early morning confusion. Why is Tina texting me so early? Why’s she even up right now?

  T: Get your butt out of bed and come to the bus stop. NOW.

  Seriously? She wants me to come out to the bus stop in the middle of the night? What’s gotten into her? Whatever it is, it has to be urgent to get her out of bed before ten in the morning. I throw on some clothes as quickly as I can and race down the stairs.

  Friday, March 29 – Twenty Minutes Earlier...

  Owen

  I roll over in bed and press my face into the pillow. I need to sleep, but the pillow is too hot and my skin itches from sweat. Dark, horrible things race around and around inside my head, and every time I feel like I’m just about to fall asleep, they do terrible things to me and I wake up again. If only I could get one hour of sleep. Hell, I’ll even take thirty minutes at this point. I’ve been up all night and it feels like I haven’t gotten even a minute’s rest yet. Please, just let me sleep without another nightmare. Just let me fall asleep without more nightmares.

  How am I supposed to sleep when the nightmares keep coming back every time I close my eyes? Unnerving, terrifying feelings course through my veins like some kind of terrible poison.

  I feel cold and sick as I imagine my father shoving my head into the laundry room sink again. He would’ve killed me if Mom hadn’t stopped him, wouldn’t he? She protected me through that one, t
oo. I forgot about that one, too, until it showed up in my nightmares again.

  I’m so tired. Please let me get some sleep. Please make the nightmares go away...

  It’s midnight and I’m standing precariously at the edge of the bridge, staring down into the blackness below.

  “Come with me,” whispers someone in the darkness. “It’s safe down here. Just one more step and you’ll be free.”

  It’d be so easy. Just a step off the edge and it’ll all be over. The thick, swirling fog around me clears a path to the edge of the bridge. It tempts me, teases me as it pulls me closer and closer.

  “Your mother is down here,” whispers the voice. “Maria is down here. Come with them. He can’t hurt you down here.”

  I almost take a step off the edge but then back away as a feeling of déjà vu hits me. Where am I?

  “Hurry, Owen,” urges the voice. “Don’t you want to see Samantha again?”

  Samantha. I miss her so much.

  This feels so familiar. I recognize this place...

  I’m on the suspension bridge over the west campus gorge. Where did the railing go? Why is it so dark out here? Suddenly, I can see the river crashing against the sharp rocks far below me as the fog clears. There’s nothing down there for me. The voice lied to me—it tried to kill me.

  The voice... I know it now. I know who it is.

  It’s my own voice—a twisted, hateful version of it, but it’s my voice all the same. I tried to kill myself.

  Sun breaks through the clouds overhead, and suddenly I’m in my bed back in my apartment.

  I sit upright in bed and clutch frantically at the pieces of my dream as they start to fall apart. I’ve never had a nightmare like that one before and I’m scared of it. I’ve had dark thoughts before—thoughts of how nice it would be to be free of my guilt—but the nightmare shook me. I know how I felt in it... I wanted to die. I wanted to step off the edge and see Samantha again.

  Something’s very wrong with me and I’m scared to go back to sleep now even though I have class in the morning. The obnoxious, glaring green light of my alarm clock delights in my misery as it ticks up to 5:36 AM. Tomorrow is going to be horrible.

  “No, today is going to be horrible,” I mentally correct myself. I have to get up soon. I roll away from the clock and try one last time to drift off, but it’s just not happening. The last nightmare shook me too much to go back to sleep again.

  There’s no point staying in bed if I’m not going to sleep, and it’s clear to me that sleep isn’t on the menu tonight. I roll out of bed and shiver in the cold night air as I rummage through the dresser for my clothes. In the end, I settle on a pair of blue jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt. The outfit is pretty much par for the course for me. I’m not big on fashion like some of the other guys in my grad program. Even if I was interested, I can barely afford secondhand stores right now, let alone designer clothes. I have no idea how they afford it on their stipends; maybe their parents still help them out.

  That’s one of the little things I love about Maria. She’s always seemed perfectly content to wear normal, functional clothes, except for that one night dancing together.

  Her long black hair hangs free as she approaches me and she’s wearing her gorgeous black dress again, still just as beautiful as the first time I saw her in it. Its wide straps cover her shoulders up to the curve of her neck and the skirt billows out around her...

  The white lace peeking out from beneath her skirt... I remember it so clearly. I don’t know what made the lace so alluring to me, but it drew my attention like nothing else. I remember how much I wanted to touch her. I remember later that night, too, when she let me. It was as if the world didn’t exist except for her and me. We were slowly creating a new world together, one where we could safe in each other’s arms and nobody could ever hurt us again.

  The way Maria’s eyes light up when she sees me makes all the bartender’s snide comments about my suit totally worth it. She runs to me and hugs me tightly, and just when I think the night can’t get any better, she kisses me softly on the cheek.

  The memory shifts and suddenly we’re dancing together. Maria is so beautiful when she smiles.

  “You look really nice,” she whispers in my ear, and I feel myself blush...

  ...and I snubbed her and told her to leave me alone. I really don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her at all. She tried so hard to help me, even stood up to my father, and I threw her away. I shouldn’t be allowed to have someone like her in my life—not if I’m going to treat her like that.

  I’ll never deserve her if I keep running away like this, forever hiding in my room at the top of the stairs, beaten into submission and too terrified to come out.

  Dad’s gone now, though. I should be able to move on, right?

  “So is my mother,” I think as another pang of regret stabs me. I’m as broken as ever.

  I grab the two empty beer bottles off my nightstand and toss them into the trash, wincing as they clatter loudly against the other three resting at the bottom of the bin. Did I really drink all of that last night? I don’t remember any of it.

  I should take a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear my mind before class. There’s no point even going today if I’m just going to mope and get caught up in my thoughts, and I really need to start focusing on my studies again. My grades are starting to slip and I still don’t know what I’m doing after graduation. I can’t risk a bad grade, especially not with my grad program’s admission criteria. If I get a single grade at a C- or below, it’s an instant rejection of my doctoral application. I’ve never dropped below a B, but one bad test score could ruin my streak at the worst possible time.

  The apartment is nearly pitch-black as I tiptoe down the stairs. Craig won’t get up for at least another two hours or maybe even longer if he went out with Tina last night. It amazes me how those two are functional during the day given how late they stay out. I’m a mess if I miss even a few hours of sleep, so I wouldn’t dare pull all-nighters at the bar like Craig sometimes does.

  A freezing gust hits me as I yank open the front door and then lock it behind me. I’m not used to being out this early and it’s colder than I expected. My breath hangs in the air and a thin layer of ice crunches beneath my feet as I head toward the long staircase in silence.

  ‘“I probably should’ve brought a coat.”

  It doesn’t feel quite as cold to me now that I’ve adjusted to being outside, but the frost on the bushes and the ice under foot tell me that it’s cold as hell out here. I’m not going back, though—at least not yet. I need time to think and maybe the chilly morning air will wake me up.

  The tall, black streetlight at the top of the hill flickers off just as I walk beneath it. The sky is a deep, dark blue as if it can’t decide whether it wants to remain night or give way to day, and it feels as if the stars are disappearing one by one above me. The world didn’t expect anyone to be up so early, and I caught it in a state of beautiful limbo, at once both night and day.

  The sound of singing pulls my attention away from the bright, starry sky and back to the path up the hill. What is Tina doing up so early? I’ve never heard her sing before but I recognize her voice anywhere. She’s just barely off-pitch and something about her song sounds almost eerie to me.

  At the top of the hill, Tina is reading a textbook while lying on the bus-stop bench and singing softly to herself. She’s wearing an unbelievably dorky headlamp like a coal miner who lost the rest of his helmet and her hair is tied back in a ponytail with a pink bow.

  It’s five in the morning and she’s sitting out in the cold wearing a headlamp. Nobody gets up this early and willingly heads out into the cold to read by headlamp—not even a lunatic with no sense of shame like Tina. Either she’s gone completely mad or something’s keeping her awake too.

  Gravel crunches beneath my sneakers as I trudge up the path and Tina abruptly stops singing and looks over her shoulder at me. I grimace and shield my eyes from the blindi
ng glare of her headlamp, and she quickly kills the light. We stare silently at each other for what feels like an eternity before I finally join her on the bench.

  The entire world freezes in place as we stare silently at each other. Even our breath seems to linger in the air, unmoving, as if waiting for one of us to say something. Tina looks at me expectantly. She clearly has no intention of breaking the ice for me, and it’s only fair since I’m the jerk who interrupted her singing time. All my words have vanished on me, though, and I don’t know what to say. So many terrible, worrying thoughts are flying in circles around my mind—Maria, my collapsed family, my dismal prospects after graduation—that I can’t stop the carousel for long enough to pick one to talk about.

  “Good morning, Tina,” I mumble. It’s all I have right now.

  “Okay, spill it,” she tells me, skipping straight past all pretense of social nicety, and she leans back on the bench with her arms behind her head. “What’s got you up so early?”

  “Hey, it’s not like you’re the queen of mornings yourself,” I answer defensively. “I’ll tell you my reason for being up if you’ll tell me why you’re out here too.”

  “Deal,” she agrees with a smile, and then she closes her textbook with a resounding ‘pop’ that echoes around us and shatters the early morning silence. “To start, I’m out at the bus stop because singing helps me calm down when I’m upset and I didn’t want to wake up my roommates. You interrupted my singing, so you get to tell me your reason first. Get started.”

  The world starts turning again as we talk together and the first bus of the day roars past us on its way up the hill to campus. Tina removes her makeshift coal-miner costume and tucks it into her backpack before turning back to me again.

  “So, here’s the deal,” I start, but Tina quickly holds up a finger to stop me and rummages through her backpack again. She grabs her phone and messes with it while I fume silently. It’s nice to know that I play second fiddle to her text messages.