Cyprus

Dropping the picture, I dragged my hands through my hair. “Where did you get that? How did you get that?”

The picture was of a family, it was a mother and father with their child. I couldn't sit there and pretend, I couldn't ignore the faces of who I was looking at. That was my family, that was me with my parents.

Those are my parents.

That's definitely me. . . That's me.

I can't believe this, how did he get this?

The picture was taken when I was young, about twelve or so. I was standing between two adults, and I could see the resemblance of both of them in my face.

The sharp curves of my high cheekbones came from my mom, along with the puffy curls I had battled day after day. While my chin was slightly boxed and short like my dad, our eyes mirror images of each other. Deep hazel globes, with specks of gold and green, peered up at me. I was the perfect mix of both of them.

Tears started to fall seamlessly down my cheeks as my eyes kept glancing around the image. I couldn't look away, it was surreal.

It was everything I had wanted for years, to see their faces, to know the people that had left me behind. And it was nothing like I had imagined.

I often thought my parents were probably drug addicts, junkies that had finally had enough of me. That thought made the abandonment easier, it gave rise to an internal hatred and acceptance for people I didn't know.

But that wasn't who I was seeing. I wasn't looking into the scarred faces of addicts with frail bodies and track-lined skin.

What I saw was normal, it was what you would expect to see in a family photo album or a frame on the wall.

We were standing in front of a lake, the water glistening like diamonds in the background. There were sailboats gliding around in the back, and a long pier with men fishing off the side. I could see the clear blue sky and giant puffy clouds, as the sun's reflection sparkled off the ripples in the water.

The smiles on all our faces were serene. We looked happy, like we were on vacation and having the time of our lives.

But I didn't remember that moment, I couldn't find the memory in my brain anywhere. It just didn't exist.

“We've been looking for you for a long time, Fiona.”

No, this isn't real. It can't be real—

He's screwing with me, he's trying to turn me against Nick and Birch.

I'm not this girl! I'm Cyprus!

“Don't call me that!” I yelled, unable to place the emotions I was feeling in the right box. “No! No one looked for me! You're lying!” Slamming my palms on the table, I growled like an angry lioness, protecting herself from a poacher. “Those aren't my parents, that's not real! None of this is real!”

It felt like the detective was trying to kill me. He was trying to pit me against the family he sought out to destroy, and ruin everything I had. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let him wipe my world clean again.

There was no way I could just sit back and allow this man to erase everything I had. I had a family, I had a boyfriend who loved me and everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

But she looks just like me, how is that possible?

Everything was exploding all at once. All the hurt of not knowing who I was, all the sadness of feeling abandoned and not loved; the happiness of seeing the faces I had searched for and of knowing my real name; all of it came crashing in like a nuclear bomb, blowing apart my insides.

Sweat started to bead up on my forehead, running down my temples and cooling against my chest. My breathing became erratic and labored as I smiled and cried, frowned and screamed.

“Why?! Why now?!” Fisting my hair, I tugged at my scalp. “This isn't real, this isn't happening!” My voice fell into a whisper, lost and broken in truth. “That can't be me. Can it? Is that really me?”

The denial I felt was raging. I didn't want to accept the picture, I wasn't ready to receive what I longed to find.

They were dead to me. I had left them in a past that didn't exist anymore. I had a good life, with people who cared about me. Nick wouldn't do this. . . Would he?

What was the reality in my story now? Where did the truth end and the lies begin?

Birch had found me in their woods, but who put me there? Was Nick the man in the journal? Was he the one who had done this to me?

There was no way for me to process all of that and pick apart the details. None of it made sense.

“Yes, that is you. And yes, we did look for you. We did everything we could to locate you. We spent years searching, but turned up nothing.”

“Why should I believe you?” Touching the picture, I traced the woman's face, desperately wishing for my past to find me. I wanted to remember, I wanted my mind to flood with painful memories so this happy family wouldn't be what I lost.

If my past was worth losing, then this man couldn't taunt me with these fake smiles. If I could recall a single ounce of pain from being in the hands of those people, then everything I had could be a blessing. I wanted desperately to stuff the picture down the detective's throat and make him eat his lies.

But that wasn't what I was seeing. Their arms were embracing me, their smiles glowing and broad, not sinister and cracked out.

I had brainwashed myself into believing that fate had delivered me into the hands of the family I was destined to have. That I had found love through a tragedy and something great had been born within the carnage.

What happened? Why did this happen?

“This doesn't make sense. Why did it take this long to find me? I've been here the entire time, is this department really that stupid or just that blind?”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but I have no reason to make this all up. What you should be asking is why he had you. What did he gain from stealing a child?”

Steal me? He didn't steal me! He found me, he saved me!

Biting my tongue, my eyes turned to slits. He was feeding me bull-shit and telling me it was prime rib. None of this was possible, not one fucking ounce of it.

Why would Birch lie to me all these years? It didn't make sense. He said he loved me. How could he look in my eyes and knowingly lie to me about this?

I wasn't ready to believe that everything he had spoon fed me was a giant sack of shit. It hurt too much to think that the man I loved could pretend for all these years.

A sharp knife sliced my chest, exposing delicate nerve endings and brittle veins. If this was true, then Birch was in on it the entire time. He had seen me, he had been there in that room, he had taken part in the lies and helped his father fill my head with them.

Every emotion I had was strung out, spread in so many different directions I expected them to break. A noose had been placed around my neck, and there was no ground for me to stand on.

“No, you're lying.” Waving my hand, I cupped my jaw and swallowed hard. “Nicholi said no one could find my parents, he said that no one was looking for me.” My voice wavered, tumbling out in broken cries and lost breaths. Shoving the picture back at the detective, I looked into his eyes. “He said you gave up.”

The detective threw his hand out, capturing mine and squeezing it firmly. “We never gave up. We did everything we could to find you. Nicholi lied to you.”

“I don't believe this, it doesn't make sense.” Shaking my head, I sniffled, yanking my hand free. “I woke up in the woods, Birch found me there. Nick and Birch saved me, they helped me and gave me a place to live. Why would they lie about that?”

“I don't know the answer to that, but I promise you, we're going to figure it out. For now, you can't go back there. We need more answers, we need more information so we can take this asshole down. We need to protect you.”

Protect me? Did he really just say that?

Protect me from the only family I know?

Protect me from the people that have loved me?

“How do you know he did this? What proof do you have that he took me? I remember waking up to him picking me up off the ground. What if it was someone else that placed me in those woods?”

“Cyprus, I'm sure this hard for you to take in, but that diary was in his house. We found it during our search, that wasn't a coincidence. What you wrote in there, that tells the story.” Tapping the side of his head with a single finger, his brows arched high. “What you remember, that wasn't reality. I believe that little girl, I don't believe what he put into your head. But all we have is that book, we don't have anything else to go on just yet. You really don't remember anything?”

Taking deep breaths, I covered my face with my hands and wept. My shoulders shook uncontrollably, my lungs begged for air they couldn't find. Nothing was what I thought it was.

Everything was a lie.

“We'll help you through this.” Detective Jones scooted closer, and rubbed a hand over my back. “But you can't go back there. We need to figure out what happened, we need to find out how deep in this Nicholi is. Tell me you understand that, Cyprus.”

Sniffling, I kept my face buried and nodded. “I understand you're trying to steal my world. I've already been through that once, I can't do it again.”

“You deserve the truth. Don't you think you deserve better than this?”

My world was spinning out of control. Everything I thought I knew wasn't true.

How was I supposed to feel about the idea that my family might have done this to me?

The little girl in that book was so shattered, she had lost all hope and was left to mend her own broken pieces.

But that little girl wasn't just anyone. . .

That little girl was me.

“Where are they? Where are my parents? Are they really gone like the diary said?”

Nodding, Jones tapped the table with his knuckles, unable to look me in the eyes. “When you're ready to know the truth, I'll tell you. But let's take this one step at a time. I have a safe place all set up for you, you'll go there for now.”

Cocking my head, my brows knitted. “What? No, I can't do that. I need to go back, I need to hear it from them—”

“No,” he snapped, crushing my request with his harsh tone. “You can't go back there. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. It's not safe for you.”

Not safe? How?

Does he hear himself?

I was tempted to laugh in his face. The guy was trying to protect me from the people who had been caring for me. He was worried for my safety. . . Seriously?

Did he really think that the love of my life was suddenly going to change after all these years and strangle me to death?

Was he really that caught up in the mob dynamic that he thought we were all disposable and held no value?

I never felt like I was in danger. Nick had done far too much for me to just wipe me off the face of the earth. And I had done the same for him, I had been there through it all. Through the death of his wife, through business deals and even a triple homicide. He wouldn't hurt me, he loved me.

Right?

He did love me like a daughter. . . Or is that a lie too?

No, he loves me. And so does Birch. But I need answers, I deserve answers.

“Detective Jones, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not going to just run away from them. I deserve answers, and if you don't have any to give. . .” Pausing, I crooked my jaw and hardened my stare. “I'll get them myself.”

Bouncing his hands in the air, his lids opened wide as his lips frowned. I could tell he was annoyed and frustrated that I was going against his idealistic plan for my 'safety.' “Let me do my job, I know these people, I know this family—”

Cutting him off, I snapped. “Are you screwing with me? You know this family? I'm not trying to fuck with your manhood, but I know this family. You know what you want to see, I know them for who they really are.”

He wanted to peg them as the enemy. But it wasn't until right then that all of that was exposed. I had to decide for myself what was real and what was fake. I deserved an explanation, I deserved to know the truth.

Their truth, not the detective's.

I wasn't going to just run away from it. I couldn't. I wanted to hear it from Birch's own mouth. I had to know exactly what happened and why. Those were answers I didn't want to get from some report or testimony on the stand. I wanted to hear it from his lips. I wanted Birch to look me in the eyes and tell me himself.

That was what I deserved.

I was going back to them. Maybe it was a stupid decision to run into the arms of the criminal that had been the spark to the fire that burned my world down.

But I couldn't forget what they had done for me. I couldn't just erase the life they had given me. They had given me birthdays and Christmases, we had Sunday dinners and beach days in the summer. We camped in the backyard and swam in the lake, we laughed at jokes and played stupid board games.

We were normal on some level, with love and kindness. That was what the detective didn't see, that was what he didn't know. He was already blinded by their dark side, he was never going to be able to see what I had.

“Are you going to fight me tooth and nail on this?”

“I'm going to do the right thing, I'm going home. You have questions, I have questions, but we can't get answers if I'm sent someplace else.”

“Fio—” Pointing my finger, I stopped him from saying that name. Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. “Cyprus, please, let us do our job.”

“I'm not stopping you from doing your job, I'm stopping you from fucking up my life even more than it already is. The diary was enough, I have some shit to think about, some shit to run through my head.” Standing up, I pressed my palms down and loomed over the detective. “So if I'm not under arrest, I'd like to just go home. If you have some court ordered authority to lock me up, then do it. Otherwise, I'm done for today.”

He could try and talk me out of it all he wanted to, but I wasn't going to be swayed.

It took them eight years to finally find me, I wasn't going to let it take eight more before I got answers.

“I want my diary.”

“That's evidence.”

“That's mine. I want it back, I deserve that much from you.”

Pursing his lips, he rocked his jaw. “Give me a few minutes, let me see what I can do.” Leaving the room, he returned about fifteen minutes later. Holding out the diary, I gripped the trim, but he didn't release it right away. “Maybe this will help you get your memory back, I really hope it does. The sooner you see those men for who they really are, the sooner you can start healing.”

“Yeah, healing, that's what I need to focus on.” Drawing my brows up, I plucked the diary free and stood up. “Where were you all those years ago? Where were you when it actually counted?”

“Cyprus—”

“I'm all grown up now, Detective, that little girl is gone.”

Turning my back, I walked out the door.

My skin was thick, my soul was full.

The girl in the diary hadn't existed in years. The only thing I cared about was finding out what really happened to her.

I owed her that much.