“Do you know what you want?” Zac asks. I peer up at the café menu written on a huge chalkboard, as we stand in line, completely overwhelmed by all the choices. I don’t even know what half the stuff is. Like biscotti.

It’s been over a week since my outing with Feather and seeing my prince at the traffic light. I find myself peering around the café and out into the street, hoping to see him again. I have no way of knowing how to find him, but this town is very small—I can only assume he must live here. I wonder how close we have been to each other all this time.

For the past year, I’ve asked my parents if they know where he lives, so maybe I can write to him, but their answer is always the same: “leave it alone” or “that’s not acceptable.” I asked them when I first moved to Merryfield and even asked Dr. Reynolds if there was a way for me to contact him, but they were all adamant that it was best for me to leave him alone as he was “mentally unstable.” For now, I push those thoughts away so I can focus on my outing with my older brother.

Next to me, Zac orders a bagel and coffee then turns to me. “Well?” he prods, gently breaking my thoughts.

He came down this weekend just to see me. I appreciate his effort. I know it’s a hassle for him to visit me since he lives in the city, but it breaks the monotony of my days. Usually, he takes me out of Merryfield and Anna joins us and, for a few hours, I feel like a normal person and less of a freak. Zac always tries hard to treat me like I’m just his sister and not some kind of victim. He’s never condescending, never full of pity, and he never acts like he’s in a rush to get away from me. He was even nice enough to hang my Christmas tree photographs on the wall next to my bed this morning, so I can look at them every day.

“Um…” I look at him for help while the young guy behind the counter waits with a bored expression on his face. Behind us, the line is getting restless. The pressure becomes even more unbearable, but Zac seems unconcerned, and I’m grateful for his patience. Decisions aren’t easy for me. For ten years, all I was given was bread, water, dry cereal, Fruit Roll-Ups, little boxes of juice, trail mix, and an occasional apple, cookie, or cupcake used as a bribe.

“Do you want the cupcake? Be a good girl then. Bend over and don’t scream or fight and I’ll let you have the cupcake.”

I’m ashamed to admit that, some days, I wanted that cupcake so bad that I bent over and bit my tongue until it bled to keep from screaming as he touched me. I always regretted it later, when the sweet icing was burning in my tummy, the appeal of the treat long gone.

“Holly?”

I shake my head and force out a breath. Those memories always gut me, but no one needs to hear them. No one needs to know how they continue to torment me. The bad man is dead, and I have my prince to thank—if I can ever find him.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I apologize a lot because it makes everything feel better, like saying everything is “great.” I recite what Feather always gets for me. “A blueberry muffin and a vanilla latte with skim milk.” I have no idea if I like anything else, and I’m embarrassed to ask him to describe everything on the menu to me.

“Okay.” Zac grins, his left dimple making an appearance. “Why don’t you go grab us a table, and I’ll bring it over.”

Nodding, I head for a small table by the windows, avoiding eye contact with the other customers, and settle into one of the wooden chairs to wait for Zac.

“You should talk to someone about that,” a female voice says, and I turn to see a girl at the next table pointing at my arm. “I used to cut and burn, too. You can get help. Self-harm isn’t the answer.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I pull my sweater sleeves down to my wrists and push my hair back over my shoulder. “Thank you,” I say as politely as I can. “But I didn’t do it to myself.”

With wide eyes she shakes her head, sending her short, black bob bouncing around her shoulders. “Girl, that’s even worse. Don’t let some asshole hurt you. I been there, too.”

Zac sets the tray of food on the table in front of me, looking from me to the girl as if he’s waiting for an introduction.

“Did he do that to you?” The girl shoots him a look that could melt ice.

“Do what?” Zac asks, his brow creasing.

“Put them cigarette burn marks all over her arms. That’s what.”

The look of surprise and hurt on his handsome face makes my chest hurt, and I struggle to breathe. I want to run back to the car, to my backpack in the backseat of Zac’s car. He always lets me bring it if he takes me somewhere as long as I leave it in the car.

“No,” I reply. “He’s my brother. He would never hurt me.”

“What’s going on?” Zac demands, his defenses rising.

“Nothing, Zac,” I glance back at the girl, wishing she would just go away and mind her own business. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

Her eyebrow rises. “You sure about that?”

The couple at the table next to us leans close to each other, their eyes darting over at us as they whisper. About me, most likely.

“Yes, I’m positive. Thank you.” I force my millionth fake smile.

Suddenly her face changes, going from suspicion to shock to pity. “Holy shit.” She lowers her voice to an excited whisper. “You’re that girl who was found in the hole out in the woods, aren’t you? You’re little Holly Daniels. I read about you.”

I meet her eyes and put on my best look of defiant confidence. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There. I did it. I deflected her. I don’t owe anyone anything. I focus all my attention on removing the paper from my muffin as she gets up and walks away, mumbling to herself about assholes and denial.

“What was that all about?” Zac still looks confused.

I shrug, wanting to move on and not make this outing any more uncomfortable than it already is. Since I was found, my family has had to deal with this kind of attention from random, nosy people in both public and private ways. I was mostly shielded from it, being at Merryfield, and I wonder if that’s part of the reason my parents sent me there. Not just for the therapy, but to hide me away.

“She saw the burn scars on my arms and thought I was hurting myself or had a boyfriend that was hurting me, I guess.” I sigh. “Then she recognized me.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head. “People just don’t know boundaries sometimes.”

“It’s okay. I forgot to pull my sleeves down.”

He dumps a packet of sugar into his coffee, his jaw clenching. “You shouldn’t have to wear long-sleeved shirts all the time. People should just shut the hell up and be respectful of others.” He’s angry for me, and I hate to see him this way. He’s a very calm, soft-spoken guy most of the time, and it bothers me that being around me makes him mad.

I reach over and touch his hand, which is stirring his coffee with a fierce briskness. He stops and glances up at me with a look of surprise on his face. I never initiate touching, and I pull away quickly. Reaching out to him felt like an impulse, almost an involuntary reflex. Maybe it means I’m starting to trust. “It’s okay, Zac,” I say softly. I rub my hand against my thigh, still feeling slightly awkward about touching his hand. I’m brimming with so much I want to say, but it’s like there’s this cork inside me that keeps me from letting it all out. I want to tell him how scared I am that I’ll never feel normal. That I’ll never feel like part of the family. That I may never have a relationship. That people will always look at me like I’m damaged and dirty. I want to tell him I’m sorry he has to deal with the questions and the stares sometimes, too. “I really don’t want to talk about it but…people recognize me, they ask questions. I have to get used to it.”

“I don’t know how you don’t scream at these rude-ass people.” Zac busies himself spreading butter from a tiny plastic cup onto his bagel.

“You screamed. You know what that means. You scream, you get burnt. You pull away? The dog gets burnt. Get it through your fucking head.”

I shake my head, momentarily afraid to speak.

“So, how was your visit with Mom and Dad?” he asks.

I focus on my brother’s face and wait for the memory to fade back into the dark hole it seeped out of. “Good. The same.” I take the lid off my latte, peer inside, and put the lid back on. “Thank you for letting me stay in your room, it really came out pretty.” He nods, and I continue. “Mom and Dad were nice…but they didn’t talk to me much at all. It felt like they were only seeing me because they had to, not because they wanted to.” He nods again, and I pull a blueberry from the soft, yellow fluff to examine it. “I don’t know, I’m still just trying to fit in. Feather has taken me shopping and out to eat few times, but she usually spends most of the time we’re together typing on her phone. I tried to spend some time with Lizzie during the visit, but Mom acts a little crazy about it, like she doesn’t want me near her.”

He chews his bagel and swallows. “That’s because she told Lizzie, a few years ago, you were an angel in heaven. Lizzie thought you were dead, and now here you are, alive and well.” He says it matter-of-factly, without easing into it.

“What?” My muffin sticks in my throat, and I sip some of my latte to try to force it down. It’s so sugary sweet, it gives me a momentary jolt. “Mom told her I was dead?”

“Yeah.” He looks like he can’t believe it himself.

“You’re dead, little girl. Dead, dead, dead. You don’t even exist.”

“But…why? Did they have any reason to think I was dead?” I ask. It never even occurred to me, while I was gone, that my family would assume I was dead. I always believed they would keep looking for me until they found me.

Zac shakes his head. “No…there was nothing that ever hinted at that. No evidence at all. Your friend ran home and told her mother what happened, and she called nine-one-one. Everything happened so fast. But you disappeared without a trace. In her panic, Sammi didn’t notice what the guy looked like, or his car. She’s always felt really guilty about that…we’ve talked a few times over the years. You should maybe contact her. She would probably love to hear from you.” I had never even thought to contact my childhood friend who had run off while the man dragged me into the car, and I’ve never wondered how she felt about it. “Unfortunately, no one saw anything, even though you two were right in our neighborhood. The leads dried up pretty quickly. It just seemed hopeless. And so I think, for Mom, it was easier to say you had died than to tell Lizzie you were kidnapped and missing. That’s scary for a little girl to hear.”

“I lived it, Zac. It was scary for me.”

“Holly, I know that.” He leans forward. “But Mom is just…in denial about a lot of things. She always has been. She can’t deal with reality.”

I push the other half of my muffin across my plate, my appetite gone. “No wonder Lizzie stares at me all the time.”

My brother takes an uneasy pause. “Mom’s very overprotective of her. She had a total meltdown after you were taken. For months, all she did was lie in bed and eat Valium. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was pacing all over the house or walking up and down the street. She didn’t start to act normal again until she got pregnant and Lizzie came. Lizzie totally distracted her from everything and, in some ways, that was good—but bad in a lot of ways too. She put herself in denial about what happened to you and projected all her love and happiness onto Lizzie. She barely lets her out of her sight.” He lets me absorb that for a few minutes before continuing. “And Dad just thrust himself into his work. Our whole family fell apart. Nothing has ever been the same.”

I shouldn’t feel jealous that my mother is trying to protect Lizzie from something bad happening to her, like what happened to me. But I do. A mix of envy, jealousy, and anger simmers deep in my stomach. “I don’t even know what to say,” I finally tell him, not wanting my emotions to come vaulting out of my mouth in the middle of this quiet café.

“They feel guilty, Holly. They blamed themselves for a long time. Still do. What parent wouldn’t?”

Does blame and guilt make you wish your child was dead instead of missing? Was that actually easier for them to cope with? My bottom lip quivers. “I think they wish I never came back. Maybe me being dead would have been better for them. For all of you…”

Zac’s eyes turn a darker shade of brown. “Jesus Christ, Holly. Don’t even say that. We’re all glad you’re back, safe and alive. We love you.”

Counting to ten, then fifteen, I breathe deeply, feeling overwhelmed. Emotional. Feelings I’m not used to. “It doesn’t always feel that way. And I don’t mean you…you’ve been so nice to me since I came back, you’ve never acted weird around me. I always look forward to seeing you. And I really like Anna. But I feel like an outsider around everyone else. It all feels…awkward. I feel like I don’t belong.”

There. I finally said it. A tiny weight lifts from my shoulders.

He listens intently, leaning on the table, exactly like when we were younger. “I know, Holly. Listen,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. Next summer, Anna and I are moving to New York. My friend John has a business out there. Do you remember John?”

I search my memory, trying to remember a John. “John from next door?” I ask as the image of a skinny, sandy-haired boy with hazel eyes comes to mind.

“That’s him. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. He’s offered me a great job. A partnership, actually. The money is good, and the business is doing great,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “I don’t think it’s an opportunity I can pass up.”

I almost drop my coffee at what he’s implying. My brother and his girlfriend are the only ones I feel even remotely close to, other than Grandma, and now they’re going to move away?

“You’re leaving?” My voice wavers on the words.

“Yeah, that’s the plan. I haven’t even told Mom and Dad yet. The thing is, we wanted to ask if you want to come with us. We can get an apartment that has enough room for you, and you could kind of…start over. You could go to school or maybe look for a job—something easy just to get your feet wet. We’ll help you.” He rubs his hand across the short beard he’s grown recently. “I think a change of scenery might be good for you.”

I’m shocked speechless at his offer and take a few moments to catch my breath as well as my thoughts. “Really? You mean that?”

“I do. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.” He takes a bite of his bagel. “I love our parents, but they’re not exactly easy to get along with. I think you figured that out.” I nod over the edge of my cup. “I’ve seen how they act like you’re a visitor, and I can see how much it hurts you, how much you’re struggling. Anna has noticed it too. And honestly? We think it sucks for you. Maybe living with me and Anna will be less stress on you emotionally. You can just take your time to figure stuff out with people that are a little more easygoing, who love and support you. It’s a clean slate.”

“Am I allowed to move? Where is New York?”

He lets out a small laugh. “Holly, you’re going to be twenty in two months. You’re an adult. You can do whatever you want. And New York is about four or five hours away by car. It’s where the Statue of Liberty is.”

“Mom and Dad say I’m not ready to have a job, or make decisions, or meet too many people. They think it’s best I stay at Merryfield…maybe for another year or two.” Maybe they’re right and I’m not ready for any of those things. Just the thought of getting any kind of job and having to see new people every day scares me. While Merryfield is a therapeutic facility, living there as an outpatient resident has been a nice transition for me. I’ve learned a lot during my time there, and it’s been a good way for me to learn independence with a safety net. But I do have to admit, the few times I’ve ventured out of the safe confines of Merryfield have been a bit of a shock.

“Dr. Reynolds seemed to feel the same as I do every time I was at the meetings with you. She wants you to get out there, make some friends, find some hobbies, figure out who you are. Maybe do some friendly dating. Your entire childhood was spent locked in a room with some lunatic telling you what to do. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life hiding, avoiding new things, and having Mom and Dad tell you what you can and can’t do, do you?”

I shrug slightly. “Part of me does, and part of me doesn’t.”

“I think that’s normal, Hol. But as your big brother, I want better than that for you. If I can help you, then I’m going to. You’re beautiful, sweet, and smart. Don’t let what that guy did ruin the rest of your life. If I can, I’m not going to let that happen.”

I’m shaken by his words, which are so new to me. His care and concern for me haven’t changed at all over the years. He’s still the same protective big brother I had as a little girl.

Pulling my sleeves down to my palms, I stare out the window at all the people walking by, wondering if I can blend in with them, or if I’m always going to be the Girl in the Hole. Almost everyone in this small town knows what happened to me. Moving to a new place would give me a chance to start over and, hopefully, put everything behind me.

“You have a lot of time to think it over. You don’t have to decide today,” he says. “I just wanted you to have an option. You need to have choices, Holly. I think it’s important. If you want to move with me and Anna, we’d love to have you. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back here.”

I give him a weak but grateful smile. “I’m going to think about it. Seriously. I honestly never even thought I could go somewhere else.”

My first real adult decision has been put in front of me, and it’s terrifying. Sometimes I wish the bad man were still telling me what to do, forcing me to do things, and putting clear choices in front of me that don’t involve a lot of thinking. I can’t tell anyone that, though, without them thinking I’m crazy.