One by one the buttons fall and each one makes me feel safe as I count them. They distract me, even though they belong to him. They’re all I have in this world. “I have no one.”

“That’s not true,” the boy says, his voice so familiar, yet so far away. Distant. I can smell the scent of flowers flowing from outside. Something so beautiful, yet I hate the smell, because every time I smell them it means I’m really with him, not matter how much I block it out. “You have me. As long as you think of me, we can be whoever we want to be.”

“I don’t want to be me anymore.” I can smell the scent of cigarettes, the boy fading from my view.

Hold onto him.

“Let him go.” Sitting in the shadows of the small room, so confident, so content with all the screaming that seems to be echoing around us is a girl who looks so much like me. Long blond hair and able to smile through all of this. I wish I was her. “Don’t be weak Maddie. Let him go and get through this yourself, otherwise you’re going to turn into that weak girl again.”

I hesitate, deciding what I want. Good. Bad. Who am I? When I’m with Lily, I’m bad but it feels okay. But when I’m with the boy, I’m myself, I’m Maddie, and it feels right but in the most painful way.

Finally I reach for him, refusing to let him fade away from me. I won’t focus on the screaming, on the scent of the man, his voice, what he tells me to do, what he does to those girls, to me, to the boy. But it’s so hard to keep reaching for him. ”I’m too tired… too broken.”

But he manages to get a hold of my hand and the warm contact of his skin makes me feel at peace with myself, not so cold and hollow. So dirty. So wrong. So Lily. “You’re going to be okay.”

I glance over at the girl in the corner, so confident, so strong. She doesn’t fear the man as much as I do and I know she’d help me if she could. “But I want to become her and that makes me crazy.”

He shakes his head with a sad smile on his lips and I wish the sunlight would hit his face so I could see his eyes. “You’re only crazy if you think you’re crazy.”

I blink from the memory, the scent of lilies still lingering in the air. For a moment, I swear they surround me, white flowers growing from the grass, and I’m back in the place with the girl and the boy, fighting not to hold onto reality.

But soon it fades and I’m back in the moment. Taking a deep breath, I move to the photos and instantly discover why my mother hid them from me. They’re of me when I was younger, early teens, and I look very similar to the girl in the photo I found in Bella’s. Long blond hair just like the detective said, just like in some of the memories, just like my Lily. Piercing’s in my nose and lips, eyebrows, and my ears are studded heavily. I’m dressed in black, a short skirt, boots, and a crop top that shows my ribcage. Right where my scar is now, there used to be a tattoo, cursive font that traced the name Evan.

I touch my side and whisper, “Evan.” It rolls off my tongue, thick like honey and makes my stomach feel like it’s igniting in flames. “I don’t understand this.” I want to cry, but Lily won’t allow me to let tears fall. She’s just like the girl in the memory, making me be stronger than I want to be.

“Who’s Evan?” I wonder. “And why is there a scar where his name is now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he the boy in my memories? Did I have his name tattooed on my side, but when I got in the accident it was ruined?”

Go to the last item.

I stare at the key sitting on the bed, engraved with the number fourteen, and I touch the scar on my palm absentmindedly.

What are you waiting for? Pick it up.

“I’m afraid.” My voice is unsteady.

Of what.

“Of what it is… what it means… about me,” I say. Taking a deep breath, I slowly move my fingers for the key. The metal stings against my skin, icy cold. The sensation shoots up my arm and brands my mind. Scorching hot images brand my mind. I’ve held the object in my hand before and it’s not just the recollection that proves it. I know because it matches the shape of the scar on the palm of my hand. I clutched this very key that night in the road. That night six years ago when the rain poured down on me and the stranger who tried to take it from my hand. But it’s more than that.

With my hand open, I hold the key in my hand. It’s long and slender, silver with lines and diamonds fitting perfect on top of the scar, the numbers matching up perfectly. It makes my skin tingle—makes my mind tingle... makes my whole body tingle… Room 14…

Pitter-patter…. Pitter-patter… Pitter-patter… the rain crashes against the earth… through it, there’s a spark. I’ve seen it before. Heard the voice that follows me, calls out my name, shouts at me to stop! As I look back, I see bright orange flames, scorching through the trees and toward the sky, so wild that even the rain can’t even drown it out.

Don’t be afraid… just run. We need to run! Now! Before they catch us and lock us back up again.

I pause in the trees, coming to a stop. “Us? But I wasn’t locked up,” I say to Lily, standing beside me, her long blond hair wild, her eyes reckless as she scans the trees for a way out. “Just you.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “That’s always been your problem.” She ducks under the trees and shouts out. “You listen to what everyone else tells you instead of seeing it for yourself.”

“What does it mean… why was I running with it that night… and who was I running from?” I ask, tracing my finger across the jagged edge of the key. A solid steel door appears in my head with the number fourteen painted on it. “Does this go to the hospital room I was in?” As soon as I say it, I pause. In the memory, Lily told me that I was locked up, but I said I wasn’t. She said I believed what everyone told me and never saw things for myself. “But how can I ever see things for myself when I’m so blind… I can’t even remember anything.”

Because you repressed it yourself. Not because it was stolen from you.

She’s right, but still, at this point I think if I could actually remember, I would. Just to have some answers.

“Do you know what I did that night when I got hit by the car?” I ask, enfolding my fingers tightly around the key. “Do you know what happened before all of that? How I escaped the hospital… why I was there?”

I know as much as you. You’re mind is my mind. If you don’t want to remember then neither do I.

I feel my legs carrying me to the mirror on their own accord. “But I don’t know anything.” I study myself in the mirror, imagining myself as blond like the detective said, imagining myself as someone else. “Other than these pieces that don’t make any sense.”

You don’t know anything because you chose to forget. Everything you do, you chose to do.

She’s right. If I was a better person, then I’d simply go talk to someone—go to Preston and confess what’s going on. Tell him about Sydney. Bella. These horrifying memories and how I think I might be a killer. But I know I won’t. I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person, for carrying those thoughts inside me, not speaking about them because I worry what they mean. Maybe if I’d spoken up sooner, lives could have been spared. Maybe Sydney would still be alive.


“Maybe,” Lily says. “But maybe not.”

Chapter 21

Maddie

“Bartender Bella Anderfells Missing, Foul Play Suspected.” This is the headline on the news the morning after I find the birth certificates and key. There aren’t too many details only that she was seen over a week ago on March 15th, on the day Sydney died. I don’t know how to process this information, but every time I shut my eyes I end up back at her place, surrounded by blood and no body.

As I’m struggling with whether I should be guilty or not, whether I killed her or not, I decide it’s time to confront my mother about the birth certificate, convincing myself that maybe if I get more answers, then somehow the mystery will be solved. Although in the back of my mind, I think part of me secretly wishes to stay in the dark. What I don’t know can’t hurt me. If I’m a killer and I don’t know it, then everything’s still okay, right?

Wrong. But it’s what I tell myself to keep moving and breathing.

I opt for a surprise attack, and catch my mother one day while she’s eating a sandwich at the kitchen table. I simply walk into the kitchen and set the birth certificate down on the table in front of her.

She immediately drops her sandwich and her jaw drops as she stares at. “Where did you get that?”

“I think you know where I got it.” I pull out a chair and take a seat across from her. “The spot where you were hiding it.”

She shakes her head, staring at the piece of paper. Finally she reaches out to touch it, her fingers trembling, but she quickly pulls back. “Maddie, you need to forget you ever saw this,” she says, her gaze drifting up to me.

I cross my arms on the top of the table. “No. I’ve forgot enough during my lifetime. This is it for me.”

She presses her lips together so forcefully that they start to turn blue around the edges. “It was your sister’s.” Her voice is so soft, delicate, fragile.

“My sister’s?” I act surprised, but I’m not. I had my suspicions. Still… “Why didn’t you tell me about her before?”

She swallows hard, her hand clasps around the bottom of her neck as if she’s trying to strangle herself. “Because the memory of her will only cause you pain.”

“Try me.” My tone is firm, demanding.

She shakes her head over and over again, tears dotting her eyes. “It’s better if you don’t remember her.”

I grip the edge of the table, needing to hold onto something because I feel like I’m about to tumble into darkness, but I don’t know why. “It’s my decision whether I remember her or not and right now I’ve decided that I want to remember her. Now tell me. Where is she?”

It takes her an eternity to answer. Cars drive by from outside, the wind blows, my mother battles to breathe evenly. “She died.”

All noises fade away. “When?” My voice cracks.

A single tear falls from her eye. “A long time ago.”

“But why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”

“Because she’s better forgotten.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I press my hands to the side of my face, struggling for oxygen. I keep thinking about the girl in my memories, the one with blond hair that told me to cut her wrist. She said she was Lily and I thought she was my Lily, but maybe she was my sister. But in the pictures… I look so much like her. Long blond hair and the scar was there, so it had to be me. “What the hell is going on?” The room is spinning, tumbling out of control. Or maybe it’s just me. “Nothing makes sense.”

“Maddie, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” She slides her arm across the table to take my hand. “It’s better if you can’t remember painful things like this. It’s the bright side of your amnesia.”

My hands drop to the table and I suck in a large mouthful of air. “Brightside? Are you fucking kidding me?” I jump out of the chair so abruptly it topples to the floor. “There is no brightside to this.” I give an exaggerated gesture at myself. “Everyday I feel like I’m losing my mind and you just add to that.”

“I wanted to protect you,” she says, slowly getting to her feet. “From the pain of having a sister.”

“Pain of having a sister. Are you fucking crazy?” I grasp at my head. This isn’t how a conversation should go. She should be talking about the pain of losing a sister. I lower my hand to the side. “What happened to me mother? In my past? With Lily? Were we locked up once?” I pause. “Did you lock us up?” As soon as I say it, I know it’s not true.

“How dare you.” Her entire body is quivering, not with fear but with rage. She grips onto the back of the chair for support. “I would never do anything to hurt you or your sister.”

“I don’t believe you,” I say and I partially mean it. I don’t know my mother enough to know whether she would hurt me or not. All I know is that in my past I’ve been hurt by someone.

“How can you ever say that?” she says. “I would never, ever do anything but protect you. Even if it means causing pain to myself.”

The last part is a little strange. Why would protecting me cause pain to herself? “What do you mean by that exactly?”