“Tell her the truth,” Clausen says, and Daniel turns back to me, now desperate.
“They’re lying to you. I don’t know anything about your father, but it’s not Senator Albertson. He’s a politician they’ve been trying to blackmail for months. He’s not your father; he’s their target. They’re using you!”
“He’s lying, Rebecca.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say to Daniel. My arm quivers as I raise the knife. “Give me my memories back!”
He shakes his head, frantic. “I would never hurt you. Everything I’ve done was to protect you. Even this!”
“Clausen says the same thing. Give them back and let me decide which one of you is lying.”
“I can’t, Rebecca. I would if I could, but I can’t!”
“That’s convenient,” I seethe, stepping toward him. The blade points squarely at his chest. “I’ll give you one more chance!”
“You know me. Just look at me!”
Just look. I don’t want to look, because if I do… That. His expression tears into me as his eyes search mine. I shake my head and clench my eyes shut to block him out. He plays the game so well I only hate him more for it.
“Give me my memories back,” I repeat coldly, facing him again. I press the knife against his chest, gripping the handle. The blade nicks his shirt, and he flinches as blood seeps along the torn fabric. I stare at the macabre pattern with mute fascination.
“Rebecca, listen to me. I’m not deceiving you. I never played any games with you.”
“But you read minds,” I shoot back.
“Yes, and you knew that. I told you that.”
“Because of you I don’t remember any of it.”
“No, not because of me. They were going to hurt you if I didn’t make you forget me. You were ready to sacrifice everything, and I couldn’t allow that!”
His eyes speak volumes, beautiful and haunting in their intensity. The same force keeps me from plunging the knife, and I feel myself being sucked in. I stand immobile for what seems like hours.
“Please. Don’t do this. It will destroy you. When you remember, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
My god, he’s begging for me. Pleading for me.
The knife waits for my command. What if he’s right? What if that vision was real? What if there really was a girl who loved this boy?
I still can’t remember the past, but I believe in the present. Lowering my arm, I turn back to Clausen. “I’m angry, but I’m not a murderer.”
I toss the weapon on the floor and march toward the door. “Keep him away from me and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else. I’ll keep your secret.”
My stomach tightens as I sense his agony across the room.
I’m on your side. I don’t know who’s lying, but I choose to believe you.
I cast him a quick glance to make sure he got my message. He did, and I nearly choke at the look on his face. It takes all the strength I have left to leave him to his fate.
I retreat to my room for the rest of the day.
Haunted by what happened in the basement, my instinctive flight reflex makes for an easy decision. I have to go home.Forget this place. Forget him. But as I stare at my empty suitcase, I can’t dismiss the image of those electric eyes screaming a truth I want to understand.
Then there’s the vision. I may not remember Daniel, but there’s no denying the girl in that scene was desperately in love with him. And I envy her. Gosh, I’d do anything to feel that kind of passion. To hunger for another person the way we ravaged each other in those brief moments.
I could run. I could flee and preserve the apathetic shadow of a life I’ve lived up until now. Escape the unknown for safety in the isolation that brought me here in the first place.
After a long pause and a deep breath, I choose the fight reflex instead.
