slowly.
“Yes. You. Are,”
he replied, just as slowly. “I was with you when you got that
hydrangea tattoo on your hip, so unless you have a twin in the world
with that exact tattoo, then you are Claire .”
Annoyed, I spat, “My
mother took me to get that tattoo when I aced my SATs. It was my
reward.”
“No. You got
that tattoo as a birthday present to yourself when you turned
seventeen. I was with you when you swiped your sister’s ID and
I went with you to get it. And I was there to make fun of you the
entire weekend afterwards because the damn thing wouldn’t stop
itching. I have pictures on my old phone if you’d like to see
some proof.”
I crossed my arms and
shook my head. It was like talking to a brick wall. “This is
fucking ridiculous.” I got four steps closer to the door before
Nick rushed over and wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding
me firmly in place. Oh, hell to the NO! Fuming, I very
distinctly said, “Nick. Let. Go.”
I struggled against
him, but my effort was futile, as his physical strength far surpassed
my own. I was just about to start screaming when he pleaded, “Just
hear me out for five minutes. If you don’t like what I have to
say, I’ll walk out that door forever.”
I huffed in
exasperation. “Like I can trust what you say. You’ve been
lying to me!”
“No, I haven’t,
Megan. I may have omitted a few details or intentionally avoided a
few subject matters with you, but that’s only because I didn’t want to lie to you.”
Apparently, he’d
never heard of lying by omission.
His arms slacken
around my body, but still kept me captive against his chest. “I
promise. After I tell you everything, you’ll know in your heart
what I said feels right.”
So long as he lets go.
“Five minutes,” I said sharply through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Five
minutes. But you have to listen to what I have to say whether you
agree with it or not.”
Bitterly, I snapped,
“Fine.” He released me then, and I stepped a few feet out
of arm’s reach, my arms still hugging my body.
“Since I only
have five minutes, I’m not going to waste too much time over
the obvious similarities.” He began ticking off his fingers.
“You and Claire having the same height, same age, same brown
hair and eyes and a matching tattoo you’re trying to play off
as common, because it’s not. I’m going to just hit you
with those nightmares you’ve been having. I’m not
shouting for you to look up in the air. I’m shouting Claire .
And that sense of fear, the danger that always seems to get you in
the end? I’m trying to warn you that the danger is your
so-called parents.”
I rolled my eyes and
groaned. So not only was I not me, but now my dead parents were a
threat to me. Please .
“Don’t do
that,” he demanded, pointing his finger at me. “You
agreed to hear me out.”
Narrowing my eyes
tightly, I began chewing my lower lip. I didn’t like that
coincidence, but when I didn’t protest any further, he
continued.
“ Claire was a senior in high school when she went missing October 30, 2010.
Nine other girls disappeared that same day. Some, like Claire, were
in a car that got hit. Some were off walking by themselves. Shit, two
of the girls were apparently walking together when they went missing.
The police said all ten of the girls were most likely stolen by
traffickers, who came into the city, abducted a handful, and got the
hell back out again before anyone even realized what was happening.
“Those people in
your dream, who you think are your parents, were probably your
handlers. They kept you for as long as it took to brainwash you into
thinking whatever lies they needed you to believe. And I doubt
they’re dead like you think they are. And that man you said was
a family friend that took you in? Your handlers sold you to him. And when you didn’t go along with the transition,
he locked you away. Because if he couldn’t have you willingly,
he was going to have
“Yes. You. Are,”
he replied, just as slowly. “I was with you when you got that
hydrangea tattoo on your hip, so unless you have a twin in the world
with that exact tattoo, then you are Claire .”
Annoyed, I spat, “My
mother took me to get that tattoo when I aced my SATs. It was my
reward.”
“No. You got
that tattoo as a birthday present to yourself when you turned
seventeen. I was with you when you swiped your sister’s ID and
I went with you to get it. And I was there to make fun of you the
entire weekend afterwards because the damn thing wouldn’t stop
itching. I have pictures on my old phone if you’d like to see
some proof.”
I crossed my arms and
shook my head. It was like talking to a brick wall. “This is
fucking ridiculous.” I got four steps closer to the door before
Nick rushed over and wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding
me firmly in place. Oh, hell to the NO! Fuming, I very
distinctly said, “Nick. Let. Go.”
I struggled against
him, but my effort was futile, as his physical strength far surpassed
my own. I was just about to start screaming when he pleaded, “Just
hear me out for five minutes. If you don’t like what I have to
say, I’ll walk out that door forever.”
I huffed in
exasperation. “Like I can trust what you say. You’ve been
lying to me!”
“No, I haven’t,
Megan. I may have omitted a few details or intentionally avoided a
few subject matters with you, but that’s only because I didn’t want to lie to you.”
Apparently, he’d
never heard of lying by omission.
His arms slacken
around my body, but still kept me captive against his chest. “I
promise. After I tell you everything, you’ll know in your heart
what I said feels right.”
So long as he lets go.
“Five minutes,” I said sharply through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Five
minutes. But you have to listen to what I have to say whether you
agree with it or not.”
Bitterly, I snapped,
“Fine.” He released me then, and I stepped a few feet out
of arm’s reach, my arms still hugging my body.
“Since I only
have five minutes, I’m not going to waste too much time over
the obvious similarities.” He began ticking off his fingers.
“You and Claire having the same height, same age, same brown
hair and eyes and a matching tattoo you’re trying to play off
as common, because it’s not. I’m going to just hit you
with those nightmares you’ve been having. I’m not
shouting for you to look up in the air. I’m shouting Claire .
And that sense of fear, the danger that always seems to get you in
the end? I’m trying to warn you that the danger is your
so-called parents.”
I rolled my eyes and
groaned. So not only was I not me, but now my dead parents were a
threat to me. Please .
“Don’t do
that,” he demanded, pointing his finger at me. “You
agreed to hear me out.”
Narrowing my eyes
tightly, I began chewing my lower lip. I didn’t like that
coincidence, but when I didn’t protest any further, he
continued.
“ Claire was a senior in high school when she went missing October 30, 2010.
Nine other girls disappeared that same day. Some, like Claire, were
in a car that got hit. Some were off walking by themselves. Shit, two
of the girls were apparently walking together when they went missing.
The police said all ten of the girls were most likely stolen by
traffickers, who came into the city, abducted a handful, and got the
hell back out again before anyone even realized what was happening.
“Those people in
your dream, who you think are your parents, were probably your
handlers. They kept you for as long as it took to brainwash you into
thinking whatever lies they needed you to believe. And I doubt
they’re dead like you think they are. And that man you said was
a family friend that took you in? Your handlers sold you to him. And when you didn’t go along with the transition,
he locked you away. Because if he couldn’t have you willingly,
he was going to have
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