by Leah Holt
I know he wasn't really mine, but in a way I felt like I was his. I had given him something that no man ever had; my purity, my innocence. . . It was all his.
That in itself sealed me to him, it locked a part of my heart into his hands, a part that would only ever be for him.
“I'm sure he's said a lot of things.” Sitting back in his chair, the detective watched me, taking notes in his yellow pad. “But what I need is for you to think long and hard, can you do that?”
Letting my eyes settle on his, I shrugged my shoulders. “I told you everything already, everything I can remember. I don't know what happened before I woke up at his house, I have no clue.”
The detective was an older man, mid to late fifties with salt and pepper hair and a pudgy beer belly he tried to hid beneath his blazer. His eyes were beady with small, dilated pupils trying to force out a look of concern that I knew he didn't really feel.
He wasn't worried about me or what I was going through. He had one goal and one goal only, close his case, put Pax behind bars, and move on to the next stack of papers on his desk.
It was so easy for me to see. His pen tapped the paper impatiently, his face scrunched up, pruning his skin when I couldn't tell him how I ended up in Pax's cabin and that I didn't know if Pax was the one who had taken me.
It was as if he thought I was lying, that in some sick way I was protecting the man who had harmed me. But I wasn't, I couldn't even grasp the reality that he might have actually done this.
How could I protect someone if I didn't have the answers to begin with?
There was nothing I could do, I still couldn't remember, it didn't matter how much he pressed me or fed me small bits of information. Those memories were still dulled, just lost seconds in time.
“Well, I need you to think harder.”
Cocking my head, I veered my stare. “You don't think I've already been doing that? Do you think I just sat around playing hostage or something?”
“No, that's not—”
Cutting him off, I slapped the top of the table. “This is the only thing I've been thinking about! If I had more to give you, I would, but I can't remember a fucking thing!”
“Vera, I know this is hard, I really do. But we have information that pinpoints Pax as being one of the men responsible for what happened to you and your friend Sara.”
Hearing her name sent a shockwave through my body, bristling my skin in worry. “Sara—is she okay? Where is she? I want to see her!”
“Calm down.” Holding up his hand, he shut his eyes and nodded. “She's fine, a local woman picked her up two days after you both went missing. Sara was banged up too, spent most of the time wandering through the woods until she found a roadway. But Vera, Sara was able to pick him out in a lineup, she remembers him from that night.”
No it can't be.
Pax wouldn't have done this.
“I can't believe that, he helped me, why would he hurt me? You keep telling me he was the one, but I need proof, something that shows me he's responsible.”
I didn't want to believe that he was capable of kidnapping, of beating me, drugging me, and causing all the pain I felt; Why go through all of that and still save me?
How could he have been so good, but so evil at the same time?
It didn't make sense, none of it added up to give me the answers I was looking for. I knew it might be hard to hear the truth, to feel the burden of my lost memories, but I never expected it to be this.
Am I really that gullible?
All I could think about was how he refused to take me to call my mom and how he didn't get me help after he found me. He had told me that he was protecting me from himself. . .
Could he really be the one who did this?
There was a feeling of embarrassment that started to erode my muscles, forcing me to slink down in my chair. I felt stupid and crazy for trusting him, for allowing him to infiltrate my brain the way he had.
You didn't just let him in emotionally. . .
You gave yourself to him.
My stomach churned at the idea of giving myself to the man who they said had shattered my world and taken my life from me. He had twisted the truth, altered my brain and mind-fucked me from day one.
I already wasn't the same person I had been; now. . . Now I didn't know how the fuck I was going to crawl out of the pit that had swallowed me whole.
I had actually trusted him, I had let him touch me, tend to me, and I had given myself to him in the most personal way.
“Does she remember the whole night?” I asked, balling the tissue in my hands, then plucking it back open only to ball it up again.
My fingers were shaking, my muscles surging with a hatred I hadn't felt before. I hated knowing, I hated having forced images in my brain of what it might have looked like when he stole me away.
“She remembers quite a bit, it took her some time to put it all together, but she never forgot their faces. We're thinking you must have been given a larger dose, one that really rattled your brain.”
Staring at the table, I let out a weak laugh. “You think?” Rolling the ends of the tissue into small tornado-shaped funnels, I asked, “And how can you know for sure it was Pax? I mean, couldn't she be wrong?”
I wanted so badly for all of this to be a mistake. Was I in denial?
Probably, but all of it was too much. The answers weren't the ones I expected, they went far beyond the possibilities my mind had conjured up.
Flipping a page in his notebook, he ran the pen down over his notes, stopping at a line I couldn't read from where I sat. “The description she gave us when her memory came back matched him perfectly. Tall, shaved head, tattoos. . .” Inhaling a deep breath, he pinched the ends of his pen and spun it between his fingers. “It's not just that, we have more too, Vera, we have video.”
“What do you mean you have video? Video of what?”
“One of the stores in town, it has surveillance video that supports her statement.”
Shaking my head, my jaw hung open. “Are you saying you have video of him taking me?”
Leaning over the table, the detective tilted his head. “Let me ask you this—if he had found you like he said and if he knew we were looking for you, why didn't he call us?”
What the fuck does that mean?
Either they had video that showed he took me or they didn't. How could there be an in between?
What did it show? Did it show him with me and it's just another memory I forgot?
I had to know, I had to see it for it to be real. The detective just telling me there was some form of video did nothing, it didn't prove shit to me.
“Show me.”
Smiling through thin lips, his eyes sparkled with a satisfaction that made me sick. “Soon, Vera, soon. Let's get your memory back first, then we can help you close the gaps.”
Why won't anyone just tell me what the hell happened?
The doctors at the hospital were so adamant about no one saying a damn word. They did a physical exam, they poked and prodded me until I had no more blood left to give and in the end, they said I was going to be okay.
Luckily, the damage was minor. I had bruising that ran deep into the muscles and the pain in my ribs was a hairline fracture that was healing well.
I was glad to hear that, to know my body was fine. But didn't they understand the toll this was taking on my mind?
Emotionally, I was a fucking wreck. It was already hard enough not remembering, but to now have them telling me my savior was actually responsible for all of it, it killed me inside.
And to be honest, I didn't want to believe it.
There was something about him, something I felt, something I held onto. It went deeper than the surface and shutting it off wasn't that easy.
I couldn't stop my head from seeing his eyes and the way he looked at me, I couldn't stop the way my muscles trembled when I thought of his hands or how they touched me.
None of it was something I could erase or displa
ce as just part of my pain. The detective was trying to say he held me captive, but he never actually said I wasn't allowed to leave.
Never once had Pax hurt me, he hadn't tied me up or locked me in a room against my will.
In my reality he had done the complete opposite. Pax had cared for me while I slept, he had fed me and kept me warm. He told me he would get answers, he told me he would help me.
Why would a man keeping me captive make so many promises he never planned on keeping?
Maybe it was all done to keep me subservient?
Maybe he said it to feed my curiosity all while never really planning on following through?
My head was starting to hurt with all the 'maybes' running through my brain. Cupping my temples, I rested my elbows on the table and rubbed the sides of my head.
How was I supposed to accept the fact that Pax was behind it all?
He had been there for me, holding me through confused tears, soothing me when the unknowns threatened to eat me alive.
He didn't do this, he couldn't do this.
There's a flaw that most have and are never really ready to admit; being wrong. I was too trusting of a stranger and I wanted to believe him, I wanted to think that he was good.
Because that was easier than feeling fear and a loss of control.
But monsters don't always just lurk in the darkest corners of your world, sometimes they're right in front of your eyes, staring into your soul.
The door to the room opened and a young woman popped her head in with a tender smile. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mrs—”
“Vera, Vera!” My mother rushed in, almost knocking over the woman as she charged into the room.
“Mom,” I said under my breath as I started to cry instantly. Standing up, I fell into her arms, letting her engulf me and hold me like I was still a child.
Kissing the top of my head, she gripped my face in her hands, looking at me like she had seen a ghost. “Oh my God, Vera, it's really you.” Her arms fanned around my head, holding me in place. “I can't believe it's really you. I thought. . . I thought I had lost you forever.”
I wanted to tell her how happy I was to see her, but all I could think about was the mess I was in and the friend I had lost. “They said Sara is okay, is she really alright?”
Brushing my hair with her hands, my mom's eyes were bright, shining in happiness. “Yes, Honey, she's fine.”
“When can I see her?”
Detective Deacon stood, stepping in and cupping my elbow. “Vera, for right now, we need you to wait, just until after everything comes back. We can't risk you getting false memories, it won't help us find the other man.”
“What if they never come back?” My mom hugged me tighter, rubbing her hands up and down my back. I didn't want to cry anymore, I was done feeling anything and everything, but my eyes kept weeping.
Dropping my head into her chest, I sobbed, I cried the most tears I had ever shed since the day my father left this world completely.
“Mrs. Sullivan, if you could just step outside so I can talk to Vera for a few more minutes, I would appreciate it. I know you really want to see your daughter, but it's extremely important that we get this all down while it's still fresh in her head.”
My mother pursed her lips, angrily shooting her eyes to the detective. “Detective Deacon, I'm not leaving my daughter.”
“I understand, I do, but some of these details might be too much for you to hear right now, you've already been through so much, don't put this on yourself too.”
Growling, my mother let her hands fall to her sides. “Are you alright with that, Honey? Because if you want me to stay I will.”
Smiling, I touched her hand and wiped my face. “It's fine, I'm okay.”
“Alright,” she said, letting her eyes drift back to the detective. “But only for a few more minutes, that's it.” Slashing a hand through the air, my mother lifted her shoulders, standing taller.
“Absolutely, Ma'am.”
The door closed behind my mom, her presence a mere whisper in the room. He was right though, if for some reason by the hand of God, I was able to remember all of it right then, I might not want her to hear the details.
Sitting back down on the hard chair, I braided my fingers together on top of the table. “I need you to tell me what you know. I can't remember anything, but I need to know what happened. What did Sara say?”
Crossing one of his legs over the other, he flipped through his notepad, landing on one page and tapping it with his pen. “I can't tell you much, the doctors instructed me not to put information into your head. They want your mind to remember on its own.”
“I know what the doctors want, but please, tell me something. Tell me how Sara and I ended up on that road, give me that at least.”
“Vera, I'm sorry, I can't do that. I can't give you details. How about this, how about you go home and get some rest and we'll talk more tomorrow. You've had a long day, let's end this here and pick it back up later.” Closing his notebook, he stood up and walked to the door, opening it up and holding an arm out for me to follow.
I didn't want to leave the station without knowing more. I was getting walled in every direction, each and every turn was a fucking standstill leading me nowhere. No one would tell me anything and it fucking sucked.
All I wanted was to know what happened, that was it.
So why was everyone trying so hard to keep the answers from me?
Didn't I deserve to know?
Chapter Eighteen
Pax
My Angel,
Forgive me.
Forgive me for all the wrongs I have done to you. Forgive me for not giving you more, for taking from you in a way that only really helped me. I've always been good at taking, it comes without a thought, without a second glance. I take, I don't give.
And that's what I did with you, I took you, I kept you, I held onto you like you were mine and mine alone. I was wrong.
You wanted to see me as a hero, to see me as the man that came in and saved you. I didn't. Saving you would have been calling for help, saving you would have been telling someone I knew where you were, saving you would have been keeping you far away from me.
I didn't do any of those things. Instead I pretended not to see your face, I pretended that you were a homeless soul just like me. I pretended that I was helping you.
I can't tell you in words how sorry I am that this is how it ended. I thought I could fix you the same way you had fixed me.
Because that's what you did, you held my hand and pulled me out of a world I had no control over.
I owe you an explanation, if nothing else, for what I did. I kept you for me, for my own personal selfishness. I couldn't let you go once I had you, I couldn't handle the thought of you not being mine. Even now, as I'm sitting in a cage, being threatened with death; I still don't want to let you go, but my hands are tied.
But I need you to know that they're wrong—all of them.
They're going to try and make you believe things that aren't true. Everything they're saying is a lie.
I would never harm you, I would never do the things they say I did. Everything I told you about the night I found you was the truth. You were dying, you were almost lifeless. But I didn't do that to you, I could never hurt you that way.
I'm a lot of things, but I am not the man who caused your pain. I need you to believe me and I want you to find out what happened, because you deserve that.
Angel, you gave to me more than I could ever tell you. You showed me that I can still care for another, that I'm not as tarnished as I thought. You gave me a second chance.
You—only you. And for that, I am forever yours.
Whatever you find, I hope you get your answers, but remember they'll only be just memories. They don't have to rule you, they don't have to control you.
You're better than your past. Don't let it steal the light inside you, it doesn't have to.
That was a mistake I made, I let my past
take over, I let it twist me into the man you found.
When you came into my home I was so broken and on the verge of doing the one thing I didn't want to do ever again. I was so close to it, I could smell it and feel it all the way into my bones.
But because of you, I didn't. You snapped me out of a dark trance and wrapped your fingers around my heart, pumping it full of life.
I don't know what's going to happen or where I'm going to end up, I don't even know if you'll ever actually read this letter. But just know that the time I had with you was everything.
Nothing will change what I feel for you, Angel, and I hope you can forgive me for wanting you all to myself.
If I'm guilty of anything it's not being able to give you back. I'm guilty of not doing the right thing and taking you home when I could have. I knew the world was looking for you, but I just didn't have the heart to give you away.
For that I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you needed, I'm sorry I left you with empty promises. But I am not sorry for finding you.
Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me.
And I hope one day you can find the silver lining.
—Paxton
Chapter Nineteen
Vera
Silver lining. . .
My fingers shook as I held his letter in my hands while my heart hammered inside my chest, crashing around like a caged bird trying to break free. Crinkling the top of the paper, I rested it gently on the counter, placing it down beside a stack of missing person fliers with my face prominently displayed in the center.
Tears balanced on the edge of my lids as I lightly touched the ink that stained the crisp white paper. Three creases forced the edges to hang suspended in the air as the center rested flat on the counter, holding it open, tempting my eyes to read it again and again.
The words were jumping off and smacking me in the face, smearing everything I thought I knew, everything I had tried to understand.
The detective had me questioning myself, he had me thinking that I had been housed by the same hands that bruised and maimed my body.