by Leah Holt
Cyprus tried to walk past me, but I stopped her. “Wait, what did they say to you? What did they ask?”
“I. . . I don't know. Nothing really. They asked a lot of questions, but I told them I didn't know what they were talking about.” Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she plucked at her bottom lip nervously.
She's lying. Why the hell is she lying to me?
“That's bullshit and you know it. What the hell happened in there?”
She couldn't pull this shit with me. I knew her way too well for her to try and act like everything was fine. Something was wrong.
The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, small red scratches clawed their way over the glossy orbs like shattered glass. Her muscles were visibly shaking, fingers bouncing and jerking as she did her best to steady her hand.
Taking in a deep breath, she stuffed her hands into her armpits and snapped. “Nothing, Birch, just drop it. Can we go now? I just want to go home.”
Running my eyes around her face, she wouldn't look at me. Her big brown eyes went to the sky, to the ground, to the cars around us. But not to me.
What did they do to you?
Watching her, it was easy to see that she had been through hell in there. She was trying to put on a brave face and act like her backbone was made of steel. But it was her eyes that made me realize there was far more to it than just a few dickhead cops who gave her a hard time.
This can wait. I can't jump down her throat, not here, not like this.
“Okay, let's go home.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, we started towards the car. Cyprus picked up her pace, slowly pulling free of my grasp. Her shoulder dipped, forcing my arm to slip off.
What the fuck is going on?
This isn't her, this isn't the girl I fell in love with.
Something is different. . .
Eyeing her cautiously, I let my hand fall to my side. I didn't try to reach out and touch her again. Something was off and I wasn't sure what it was.
Her back was stiff and rigid, hands anxiously twisting and twining in front of her waist. She kept shifting her head side to side, but she never took her eyes off her feet.
I couldn't figure it out. I didn't know what the hell was going on inside her head.
My father climbed out of the car and held the door open so she could get in the passenger seat. Waving her hand, she brushed off his generosity. “No, that's okay, I'll sit in the back. I need a little time to clear my head.”
Crooking his jaw, my father's lips turned down. “Sure, I understand.” Opening the rear door, Cyprus slipped inside with a tight smile and a nod.
Closing the door, my dad got back in without another word. I wasn't sure if he could sense what I was. There was no denying what I felt and saw. The woman who came out of that place was not my Cyprus.
“How did you get the car?” she asked, tucking her hands in between her thighs.
“Jerry helped with that after we called him.”
“Oh.” Cyprus turned her head to the window, ending the weak conversation.
The drive home was quiet, none of us spoke. Cyprus had her chin resting on her palm, eyes glued out the window. Dad looked straight ahead, every so often fiddling with the radio or the cuff links on his suit.
And I stared out into the distance, allowing muscle memory to get us home. All I kept thinking about was what they did to my girl in there. I was afraid they had fucked her brain up, warping her mind and pushing her away from us.
It wouldn't be hard for a seasoned detective to manipulate his words and cross you over the bridge to his side. It didn't work on me, but I was trained for that type of pressure. Cyprus wasn't. We never planned on her being brought in for questioning. We failed her in that regard, never giving her the tools she'd need to stand up in a situation like that.
Cyprus was strong as hell, she had a great head on her shoulders. But we kept her at arms length from some of this shit for years. All she ever heard was stories. We filled her head with the knowledge of what we did, and how dangerous it was. But we never let her get close until now. The Mangoletti family was her first real experience like that.
I knew it was a risk when she came with us. And to be honest, I didn't think it was going to end the way it had. But they fucked with us, they wanted to barter with my woman.
They deserved what they got.
Parking the car, I heard both doors open and close before I even had time to pull the keys free.
What the fuck is going on here?
Running my fingertips up and down the length of the key, I watched my father and Cyprus as they entered the house. He rubbed her shoulder, speaking inaudible words into her ear. She smiled and nodded, her muscles tensed and tight as she pulled from his hand too.
It's like she doesn't want to be around us. What the fuck did they say to her?
Raking my fingers through my hair, I sat alone, confused by the person who came out of that building. That wasn't my girl, that wasn't the woman I fell in love with.
My Cyprus would have given me a kiss when she came out of the station, she would have embraced me with a warm hug and bright smile. She would have told me every single word they used and how they said it.
That's not what she did. She had shut down, she refused to even indulge my questions about what happened.
Gripping the keys in my palm, I squeezed. The metal cut into my skin, but it didn't feel it. Warm blood trickled down my wrist, and all I could feel was the anger ravaging my insides. Someone had gotten into her head, someone had methodically placed information in her brain about us, about who we were.
That was the feeling I got from how she was acting. She was cold and removed, withdrawn from the people she had loved before the police got their hands on her.
Could they know? No, it's not that, it can't be that.
They probably filled her head with loads of shit, making her think we're evil. And that wasn't entirely wrong, but it was misplaced. We were bad, we did things that the law didn't agree with.
But we did it because that's how this shit worked. We all had a set of rules to follow, and those that went against the grain, they got what was coming to them. It's not like they didn't know the risk, it's not like the pricks we dealt with were oblivious to the end result of screwing us over.
I'm going to change her mind, I'm going to make her remember who we are—who she is. I'm going to bring her back to me.
Storming into the house, my father was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of whiskey. His back was to me, head hanging down as he eyed his glass.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“What?” he asked, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Cyprus, what the hell is her problem?” Checking over my shoulder and around the stairs, I made sure she was out of earshot. “Can't you see it? Isn't she acting different?”
“Birch, she just went through her first interrogation, she's a bit worked up. Remember the first time they took you in? You weren't exactly king shit in there.”
“Dad, this isn't the same. Something isn't right—”
Cutting me off, he swirled his glass in the air. “Don't worry, she'll be fine. Come, have a drink with me, it'll calm your nerves.”
Stalking to his side, I whispered through clenched teeth. “How can you know that? What if it's something else, what if they—”
“They didn't. If they did, where the hell do you think we'd be? Do you think I'd be standing here pouring this shot? Do you think you'd be talking to me right now?” Slugging his drink, he exhaled a hard breath. “It's fine, just give her a little time to get her shit together.”
Scrubbing my jaw, I glared into his eyes. “Let's hope her getting her shit together doesn't mean her fucking mind opening up and giving her the answers.”
“Fuck, Birch, I'm not doing this right now.” Slamming the glass down on the counter, he snarled. “I'm not doing this shit anymore with you.” Stepping into my chest, he threw up a finger and poked me in the temple. “Get
it in your goddamn head, no one is looking for her anymore. But if you keep talking about it, if you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, that's when the problems will come in.” Flaring his nostrils, his lids hooded, mouth taut.
We stood toe to toe, chest to chest. A father and his son, each demanding to hold the power. He was trying to get me to back down, to bow my head and agree like a good son should. But I couldn't.
“The problem won't be me. It never was me.” Stepping in a hair, I brought my lips to his ear and whispered. “The problem was you. It was always you. Everything that happened was because you lost control.”
Shaking my head, I watched his eyes glaze over. I waited. I waited for him to react, to fill my ear with threats of a bullet in the head if I didn't keep my mouth shut. My father might be calm with the men he dealt with, but when it came to me, he had no problem letting it free.
In one quick motion, my father socked me in the jaw. I knew what I said would get to him, calling him out with the truth and not the fucking lies he had tried to mold into the reality we lived with for years.
All of this was because of him. Period.
“You ungrateful piece of shit.” The veins in his forehead throbbed, angrily pressing against the skin in an act of threat. “Fuck you.” Grinding his teeth together, his hands hung in tight fists by his side.
But he didn't hit me again. Taking a long step around my body, he stalked out of the kitchen.
I was tired of pretending. I was done playing his game. If the sky came crashing down on us, I wasn't going to be there to catch him.
There was a woman I loved, a woman I would do anything for.
I knew from the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes; she needed me.
And I was going to have to work to get her back.
Chapter Ten
Cyprus
Sliding down the bathroom wall, I dug the diary out from inside the jumpsuit and clutched it against my chest, on the verge of busting into tears. I had been trying since I left the station to recall a single memory from my past or a plausible explanation for the diary they had found. There was nothing.
The faces of my parents went no deeper than that single picture. They were a one dimensional figment of my imagination, a shiny piece of paper that gave me no answers.
Birch's name was written boldly in black ink on the pages inside, and there was no denying that he had been a part of something, but what it was. . . my head wouldn't go to that place, it refused to let me imagine that the love of my life would have kept this from me.
Maybe someone else wrote this. It's possible that this girl isn't me.
Birch wouldn't lie to me for all these years. . . would he?
I didn't want to believe it. That would mean my entire life had been a lie. Everything I thought I had, the great family fate had entrusted me to. . . it would all be fake.
It's you, this is your diary. Stop trying to force it to be something else.
I felt different than I thought I would. The second I saw Birch in the parking lot, my chest tightened and my heart sped up. Sweat beaded up on the back of my neck and my body began to tingle with nervous twitches. Inside I was torn up, split between running into his arms and darting in a different direction.
I wanted to scream and demand answers. I wanted to throw myself into his chest and let his embrace comfort me like it had so many times before. I wanted to slam the diary in his face and force him to tell me everything; where it came from, whose it was, and why it was in our home.
This treacherous mix of needing him to make me feel safe and confronting the dark truth dug into my brain with razor sharp talons.
What if I'm wrong? What if the police are wrong?
I couldn't imagine putting Birch through any false accusations or heartbreak from a lack of trust. Deep down I loved him, but if this all turned out to be true, then what?
What the fuck am I going to do?
Why the hell can't I fucking remember?!
Pushing the diary against my forehead, I wished it would feed me the answers I needed. Desperately I begged the pages to spill their secrets until every piece of my body surged in pain.
This isn't working. I have to look deeper.
Resting the book in my lap, I opened it and started reading it from the beginning. The first few entries were simple, they lacked any real depth or emotion.
Fiona went on and on about how she couldn't wait for summer camp and that she really hoped she would get the set of earrings she wanted for her birthday. She talked of a boy at school she thought was cute, his name was Dylan, and I guess he had really dreamy eyes.
She liked to draw, and I found that strange, because not once had I ever picked up a pencil and a piece of blank paper to doodle or sketch a damn thing. You would think that if this little girl was me, even without my memories, there would still be certain traits that we would have in common.
If that was my past, then the person I once was truly had been erased. That girl had been wiped off the face of the earth, along with anything that resembled her.
Page after page, I read her thoughts, trying to link that girl to myself. Fiona enjoyed watching ice skating, she hated tomatoes and onions. She loved animals and really wished for a dog one day, but had to settle for the time being with a ferret named Rocko.
She hated her bony knees, and how her pinkie toe curved in. She had a best friend named Emily, and both the girls wanted to marry the singer from some boy band when they got older. They even had a pact, that if the singer chose one over the other, then the girl left out would still marry the second hottest guy in the group.
Line after line, I watched this young girl's life transform. She documented when she got her period at twelve, and how she was afraid to tell her mom because they had never really talked about it before.
There was a fight she had with her parents about going to some movie, and how she couldn't wait till she was old enough to finally get her license to drive. But nothing in there gave me that 'aha' moment and open up Pandora's box inside my brain.
Her entries slowed down around the time she turned thirteen, writing on and off, then nothing before the entries that changed her life.
Knock! Knock!
Snapping my head up, I didn't answer the taps on the door. I sat quiet, listening and hoping that whoever it was would just leave me alone. I couldn't deal with this. I had thought I could, I had expected to walk outside and not feel any type of fear or uneasiness. In my mind, everything would be the same until I figured it out.
That didn't happen. Birch's hand on my shoulder made me quiver, forcing me to question everything he had ever told me. Nick's pep talk when we got home made me sick, my stomach churned and I felt the vomit as it sat in the back of my throat. All I could imagine was him storming into my home and killing my parents.
I wanted to have a family so badly, maybe I missed the reality at my feet. . .
Holding my breath, I stayed quiet, sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest. Staring at the door, tears swelled over my eyes, making the room blurry. Short quick bursts of air snapped through my lungs as I did my best to not break down and sob uncontrollably.
Wiping them away, I exhaled gently, doing my best to not lose it and stay sane. I had to keep a clear head, I had to be able to pick apart all the details of what I did know to see behind the surface.
Fuck! Get it together!
A few more knocks racked the door making me jump. Dragging my hands through my hair, I licked my dry lips and spoke as casually as I could. “Yeah?”
“Are you alright in there?”
It's Birch. . .
“Uh, yeah, I'm fine.” Forcing my voice to stay steady, I choked out a few words. “I'll be out in a minute.”
“You sure? You didn't seem okay at all after we left, and you've been locked in there since we got home.”
Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes. “I'm good, Birch, really. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Sure, no problem
, I'll be downstairs.” His feet vibrated the floor as he walked off, and I could hear the sound of his steps as he went down the stairs, leaving me alone.
Birch didn't believe me. I could tell by his voice he knew I was full of shit. I hated lying to him, I had never really done it before. It was stupid of me to think that he wouldn't notice something was up.
Why do I feel bad about not being honest, when he's been able to keep up this lie for years?
Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought.
Exhaling, I stretched my legs out across the floor, unable to filter the jumble of shit inside my head.
A part of me was excited to learn about who I was, while the rest was anxious and upset about what this all could mean in the end.
The man I loved with everything I had could be a fictitious character that never existed. Just the thought sucker punched me in the gut, leaving me keeled over in a pain I didn't know what to do with.
I thought that losing my family was the worst kind of hurt. . . I was wrong.
Pushing myself up, I stripped free from the jumpsuit and tossed on some clothes. Stepping to the sink, I turned on the water and splashed my face. The water felt good as it cleansed my skin, erasing the salty tears.
Leaning over the sink, I let the cold water run down off my chin. Every drop was a mix of sadness and pain, disappearing into the drain forever. I didn't want that for my life, I wasn't ready to lose everything I had with Birch.
I couldn't just forget the feelings I had for him. I wasn't ready to walk away from the love I felt inside. Deep down, I still wanted the feelings between us to be real. I just had to find a way to build a bridge over the trench that had just opened up.
I'm going to figure this out. I have to.
I'm strong, I can do this.
All the answers were right there inside me, everything I needed to know the truth was in my brain. I just had to find it. Standing up straight, I dried my face and fixed my hair, ready to hit this thing head on. I deserved more than this, and so did my parents.