February
I am at a physical therapy appointment with Gram at the hospital. She really is doing great. It won’t be much longer, and she won’t have to depend on her walker so much. I think being able to hike the trail for my wedding on the bridge is perfect motivation for her.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I excuse myself from the physical therapy aquatics room to take Brianna’s call.
“Hey, chick. What’s up?”
“Are you busy right now?” She asks in a panicky tone.
“I am with Gram at her appointment, is anything wrong, you sound…I don’t know jumpy.”
“I need you to come over to Hurley’s ASAP, preferably right now.”
“You know I don’t like that house, Brianna, can’t you just meet me after I take my Gram home.”
“No, trust me you are going to want to see this. It is important, and Bella, don’t tell Cutter you are coming here. He is in class all day, right?”
“Yeah, but why? You are seriously freaking me out right now, Brianna.”
“Just get here.” The line goes dead. She better not be dragging me out there to show me her sex game and lingerie she bought for Valentine’s Day. This better be important. There was panic in her voice though, there has to be something going on and I am partly afraid to find out what it is.
Okay, I try to calm my nerves I don’t want to panic my Gram. I go back inside and ask Gram if she would be okay taking a cab home if I call one for her. I don’t go into details, and I tell a white lie. I tell her Brianna and Hurley had an awful fight and she needs me to come get her. Of course, Gram tells me to go. I place a call to a local cab service and take off for Hurley and Cutter’s place like a bat out of hell.
You never know what might be going on with Brianna. I know it sounds selfish, but I hope whatever is going on is more to do with her and Hurley than it is Cutter and me. But I know things have been going so well lately. I get a sick feeling in my gut telling me she wants to tell me something about Cutter. Karma is coming back to tip the scales, life has been going too good for me lately.
I throw my car into park and run up the walkway and through the front door without knocking. I know it is bad that Cutter has been living here for weeks and this is the first time I have come over. “Brianna, I’m here. Where are you?”
“In here,” she calls from one of the bedrooms down the hall.
I make way down the hall pausing to peek in each room. I’m not sure whose room she is in. I stop at the door that I know has to belong to Cutter. Hurley uses the back bedroom.
I look into the room and sure enough, Brianna is sitting on his bed sifting through a huge box.
“What are you doing and what’s in the box?”
“Okay, one, don’t freak out on me, I wasn’t being nosy. So, two, I was snooping, sort of, but it isn’t what you think. I was looking for an address for Cutter’s parents. I know he says they don’t have anything to do with him, but I thought just maybe if you reached out to them, they may consider coming to your wedding. But that is beside the point. You are engaged to a fucking creeper, Bella. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t show you this?”
I take a seat on the opposite side of the box from where Brianna is sitting and look at the contents.
I am going to be sick.
My stomach rolls and my head feels swimmy.
Inside of the box are pictures of Harlan. Newspaper clippings about the accident and me. He even has Harlan’s obituary. There are pictures of me at the falls, at Harlan’s grave. But that isn’t the worst part. He has my fucking patient file, the one that was stolen from the hospital.
What the serious fuck—in the bottom of the box under the pictures and papers is a wig that matches Harlan’s hair color almost spot on and there are hundreds of paper daisies inside of a manila envelope. My heart tells me, Cutter didn’t do any of this, that someone else is behind it, but my logic tells me it’s true.
I run from the room, I am overwhelmed and numb all at once. I violently throw up in the gravel driveway beside of my car. Tears are streaming down my face as the darkness consumes my heart once more. All this time, he has been fucking with me, but why? Why would he dress up like my dead boyfriend and fucking stalk me? It makes no sense. None if it makes any fucking sense. How could I be so blind? I can’t control the sobs as they escape my throat, ripping me in half as they come out.
I was going to marry this psychopath! I just want to die. I have been sleeping with the enemy. I gave him all of me. All this time I have just been giving him the ammo he needs to ruin me. I said goodbye to Harlan for him, I gave up on him, for this!
Brianna comes running out of the house carrying paper towels. She rubs my back trying to console me, but I shrug off her advances.
“We need to call the police, Bella, who knows what kind of sick plans he has for you. Thank the good Lord you haven’t married him. He could have been trying to kill you.”
“I have to get out of here, Brianna. I can’t be here.” I begin dry heaving once more as Hurley pulls into the driveway.
Hurley jumps from his truck and runs over to Brianna and me. “What’s going on, Bella, are you alright?”
I can’t even look at him right now.
What if he is in on it.
What if they all are?
No. I can’t be completely wrong about all of them, can I?
All this time were they playing me?
“No, she’s not alright. You live with a freaking fucking sociopath, Hurley, a motherfucking psycho. Did you know about this?” Brianna is getting all up in Hurley’s face like he is an accomplice.
“I don’t even know what you are talking about,” he shouts back and throws his hands up in frustration.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” Brianna starts pulling Hurley into the house.
“Wait, we can’t just leave Bella lying in the driveway. I am going to call Cutter and find out what in the hell is going on around here.”
“No!” Brianna knocks his phone from his hand. “You cannot call Cutter he is crazy! Bella, I want you to get in your car and lock the doors. I will come back out in a few minutes to drive you home.”
All I can do is nod as I slide into my car and lay my head on the steering wheel trying to digest what I just uncovered. I bang my head against the steering wheel, wondering how—why? I fucking let him in.
I let this happen. Cutter said he loved me.
He lied to me.
He’s been playing a sick and twisted game with my mind…with my heart.
I open my car door to violently throw up again so hard that bile is coming through my nose. Taking the hem of my shirt I wipe my face with it.
How did I not see the signs?
There had to be signs.
Every time something happened, it could have been him. I was always alone, and he would show up or meet up with me shortly after. Those motherfucking daisies—was he messing with me while I was in the hospital?
Several minutes later Brianna pecks on my window looking as crazy as I feel. “Unlock the door and scoot over. I am taking you home.”
I comply with her orders and go through the motions of pretending to listen to everything she is explaining to me, well shouting at me in her frenzied state. She isn’t that great of an actress, so I think she is on my side. From the parts that register with my brain from our one-sided conversation, this is what information I can gather.
Brianna put the box back where she found it and reported it to the police.
She broke up with Hurley because he thought she should call Cutter to come home and explain himself. There was no way she was going to be in a relationship with someone who would side with a lunatic.
Part of me feels bad. I don’t want her suffering just because of me. Somebody deserves to be happy. “Brianna, you are a good friend, I’m sorry I used to call you whore Barbie.” I sniffle.
“What? Whore Barbie, oh, Bella.” she reaches across the seat and gives me a hug as we sit in the driveway at my Gram’s.
I can’t go in there I can’t face her.
How do I tell my Gram about Cutter? It will crush her.
Brianna takes me to her dorm for the night instead to give me time to think of how I want to handle telling my Gram.
*—*
The next week goes by in a fuzzy haze. Cutter was arrested on suspicion of stalking, stealing confidential information, falsifying information to the police. They know he didn’t attack my Gram because he was in New York with me that night.
Dr. Peters came over with the prosecuting attorney to talk about the case they are building against Cutter. Who is really named Ryan Dawson Monroe by birth by the way—yeah, that totally threw me for a loop too.
They believe he became infatuated with me when I was in the hospital. He was receiving treatment during the time I was there. Their case is all circumstantial, pending his psychiatric evaluation, but there is enough to issue a restraining order against him until the case goes to trial. The police figure the attack on my Gram was a robbery gone wrong and merely coincidental.
Cutter wasn’t even enrolled in the University. Dr. Peters thinks he followed me here after he was released from the hospital. He had all the information he needed on me from my patient file.
I can’t go to class. News of Cutter and what he was doing to me has spread all over town. I look like a fucking idiot. My professors and advisers have worked it out for me to have some time off, but I never want to go back. I twist the ring on my finger out of habit. I look down at the meaningless gift. I thought he loved me. I pull the ring from my finger and remove the chain around my neck, and sling them across the room. The jewelry hits my wall and falls behind my dresser.
I don’t want anything that will remind me of Cutter and his deceit. I put my earbuds in to try to distract my mind, but the first song to start playing is Tip of My Tongue. I can’t bear to hear it. I rip my buds from my ears, throw my iPod down on my hardwood floor, and stomp it until there is nothing left of it.
I don’t even feel comfortable in my own home. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of Cutter—Ryan, whoever in the hell he is. I find myself thinking back to the blur of days that I was in the institution.
Then out of nowhere, a memory hits me. I remember going to the art room and seeing a portrait of a little girl. Carson, his little sister. At least I know that part wasn’t a lie.
What if he really hurt her?
I remember him too, his hair was longer. It hung down around his ears and he had some weight on him. He wasn’t fat, just his face was rounder.
Gram knocks on my door. I feel bad. I know it must have been hard for her to walk up the stairs, but I can’t bring myself to face her. She must be so disappointed in me. “Bella, baby, you need to eat something. I know you are upset, but I would at least like you to take a shower and eat a bite. I made potato soup.”
I see the shadow of her leaving a tray outside of my door. Brianna has been coming over and I can’t see her either right now. I mean I am grateful she found the box, before it was too late. She means well I know, but I can’t let her in fully.
I don’t trust anyone right now.
What did Ryan hope to get from all his sick games? I can’t call him Cutter anymore, that person is dead to me.
He wasn’t real.
None of what we shared was real.
The kisses.
The promises.
The I love yous.
It was all shit.
A game.
I give up, I don’t have it in me to fight anymore, and the darkness can claim me. I won’t even try to bleed the poison out this time.
Dr. Peters is coming over later today. I decide to take a shower for his benefit—me I could care less, but he might not appreciate my B.O.
When he arrives, he informs me that he has turned my files over to the prosecution due to the fact he documented all the conversations we had where I told him I felt like someone was watching me. He has pulled a few strings to get in to have a sit down with Ryan. I don’t want to know anything about it. Honestly, I am numb to it all.
I feel so lost. I thought I had finally found a real love and myself. Only to have it all ripped away in the blink of an eye. Two steps forward and three steps back. Yep. Talk about progress.
Gram doesn’t know what to say to me, so she doesn’t say anything. I think she fears what I might do if she says the wrong thing. I know she is hurting too, but I don’t have it in me to care. She should worry because I myself have no idea what I will do or when I will do it. I don’t know how I am supposed to feel. I want to hate him, to make him hurt—as sick as it might sound I miss him, and despite everything he has done, I still love him.
That, the open I fell in love with, that guy doesn’t exist though.
*—*
March
There is nothing left but silence, I’m not sure my heart beats any longer.
I have nothing left to give of myself.
Ryan stole everything I had in me.
I have nothing to left to lose.
I merely exist.
I have refused Dr. Peters last three visits. I know he has seen Ryan and wants to discuss it with me.
Gram has also informed me that Ryan has been released to his family on house arrest until we go to trial. I don’t want to bother with any of it.
I no longer care.
Maybe I should have thrown myself off the bridge when I wanted to and pulled him—Cut-Ryan with me.
My birthday is next week. I plan to go to the falls and spend it with Harlan. My heart aches for him, but not in the way it used to.
I find I miss his friendship more than anything.
Brianna finally gave up trying to see me after going through a second round of my blowing her off. I have officially been dropped from my courses and unenrolled from the University. My adviser begged me through an email to reconsider, I told him to blow it out of his ass.
I can’t go to campus and be stared at and listen to the hushed whispers. It will be more than I can take—the pity.
Please, God. Just take me now, because as deep as I hurt, I miss him. Cutter. I miss him so fucking much. The ghost of the love I have lost haunts my dreams now. I no longer dream of Harlan, but instead the stranger who was sleeping next to me all this time—Ryan Monroe. His smile, his blue eyes—I want to see him, to confront him. I want him to tell me it is all a misunderstanding. I understand what has been done can’t be undone, no matter how much I wish it were possible. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t always on my mind.
Here I am still going through the motions…as much as I want to give up on life.
I long to exist in my dreams, where he was mine.
Where what we shared was real.