“Come here, Emmy. Close your eyes.”

Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I release a pained breath as I fall into his arms.

I just want to go home.

“Show me. Where did they touch you, baby?” His smooth and tender voice causes me to choke up. With my eyes still closed, I lift my hand and put it on my most private area.

Silence follows but the air in the room grows heavy, you can almost taste the rage rolling off of him.

“Are you in pain?” he asks. Gone is the tenderness that was just there, in its place is harsh, barely restrained anger and disbelief.

Shaking my head, tears leak from my closed eyes. “No.”

“Baby… did he… did he rape you?”

I shake my head again. “I don’t think so… No one is allowed to have sex with me,” I whisper, feeling heat creep to my cheeks at my lack of knowledge. “But he made me feel things… I …” Choking on a sob, I can’t continue. My body still hums with my very first orgasm, an orgasm that was forced on me.

I have never felt anything like it… I didn’t want it, yet I couldn’t stop it…

Hearing a growl run through his body, he pulls me closer to his chest. Wrapping the blanket around us he holds me tight, trying to keep me pieced together.

With my face buried in his chest he kisses the top of my head and whispers, “One of these days I will take all these painful memories and erase every last one. I promise you, Emmy, I will get us out of here.”

“Emmy!”

Shooting up, my sunglasses fall off my face and onto my lap. The brightness from the sun momentarily blinds me as I gasp for breath. Looking next to me I meet Bailey’s concerned eyes.

“You were having a bad dream. You kept calling for...” cutting off she looks down at her hands. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Placing my palm on my forehead I try to catch my bearings.

It was just a dream…

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember, but consciousness has already chased it away… all except for the lingering terror and the longing want.

The emotion that caused me to leave Texas comes barreling through me, it’s the same feeling that I had the moment I woke up in the hospital after being rescued… a feeling of loss and sadness, a feeling like something very important is missing in my life.

The only time I have ever felt whole was when-

No… I can’t think about him right now…

Shaking my head, I push him and my dream away and breathe in the fresh sunshine air.

It has been one week since we arrived at Drifter’s. From the moment we pulled into Providence, an overwhelming feeling of contentment has washed over me. The second I saw the Welcome to California sign, I ditched the front seat of Buck’s truck and hopped on the back of Drifter’s bike. Everything just felt right.

When we pulled up to Drifter’s home I had been stunned. The house that he owned in Texas, the one Bailey and I were living in, was a beautiful home nestled right in the middle of a small neighborhood, within walking distance from the town. But his home here in California… it was breathtaking.

It looked like one of the houses I had painted before… It was my dream home.

Standing two stories high with a wraparound balcony and porch, it’s surrounded by nothing but acres of large trees and land and sits right on the outskirts of town. It’s perfect. And I was in Heaven.

Bailey and I both have a room on the second floor and each had been ready for our arrival. With beautiful white furniture and beds that could sleep twelve, I had been amazed. Confused…but amazed.

It was like this house was built for me.

When I asked him about the place, he just shrugged and told me it was one of many. Like houses as beautiful as this were just pieces of papers in his back pocket. But even with the overwhelming contentment came dreams so vivid, so real, that I have hardly gotten any sleep.

I don’t know why I had thought that by leaving Texas behind everything would go on as if nothing bad had ever happened. In the back of my mind I always hoped that by following my heart and starting fresh, it would mean forgetting my past and not having to be reminded of what I don’t remember; that the missing pieces inside me would somehow magically put themselves back together.

If anything, the feeling that something is missing has only gotten stronger. Along with my dreams, it tugs at me as if trying to lead me to where I need to go.

It scares me.

“Bailey?” Turning in my chair, I meet her concerned eyes. “Does it hurt to remember?” My question comes out as a whisper.

A distant look fills her eyes as I assume she goes back to that place. “Yes,” she whispers back just as faintly but then grows stronger as she continues, “But… I think it would hurt more not to remember.” Her answer causes me to flinch.

Sitting up in the chair she crosses her legs and faces me, her gaze downcast. “Sometimes I wish I could forget like you, but then I see what you go through, the struggles you have with what’s real and what’s not.” Tears shine in her eyes as she meets mine. “It may not seem like it sometimes, but I am recovering from that place. I am trying to find ways to cope with what happened to me … but you’re not able to actually heal, Emmy.” Her words are like a knife to my heart. “I’m scared for the time all your memories come back… I’m scared that I will lose my best friend.”

Reality pulls me under as I listen to her. I’m not moving on… I’m still just stuck in the past.

“Do you know what happened to me?” I ask, my question coming out so low I’m surprised she heard me.

With wide eyes, her arms wrap around herself as she begins to rock back and forth. Looking into the distance she answers, her voice hoarse with memories. “I wasn’t let out that much.”

I still at her revelation, my body going on alert.

This is the first time she has ever mentioned anything about her past. I swallow hard trying to brace myself. I don’t know if I am ready for this… yet, I don’t stop her.

“Sometimes I would go weeks without seeing daylight,” she whispers. “He liked to keep me locked up”

Oh God.

Facing back to me, she meets my stare but I don’t think she sees me. “But even so… I knew of you.”

This time it’s my eyes that widen.

“Everyone knew of you.” She breathes as if she is in a trance. “You were the princess.”

Stunned, a cold sweat breaks across my skin as apprehension shoots down my spine.

My trigger word pounds in my ears.

Why was I the princess?

My thoughts trail back to my last night in Texas… the man who called me just that. Shaking my head, I push the memory away. No longer in control of my actions, I move to the edge of my seat. “If I asked you, would you tell me who I am? What happened to me?” I say, desperate fear evident in my voice.

Breaking out of her trance, she shakes her head roughly from side to side. Throwing her hands over her ears, she squeezes her eyes shut. “I can’t,” she answers, sounding in pain.

With heavy movements, I fall from my chair and move to hers. Grabbing her hands from her face, I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

Breathing heavily, I try to catch my breath as I place my cheek on top of her head.

The dream, her words… everything, it all weighs down on me.

“It’s okay, Bailey,” I soothe. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

Why can’t I just let it go? Why can’t I just move on?

“That’s not who you are anymore,” Bailey says quietly.

“What do you mean?” I question, not sure what she is referring to.

Pulling back, she meets my stare, her eyes still blanketed by the demons that linger. “You asked if I would tell you who you are,” she answers, shaking the fog from her eyes. “You know who you are, Emmy.” My throat clogs with tears as she continues, “You are not the same person they forced you to be. What happened to you doesn’t matter, it’s what’s happening now that does.”

Feeling the tears fall, I pull her back to me.

“You aren’t the same person either, Bailey,” I counter and her whole body tenses.

“I have never been anyone else,” she answers, her words holding so much truth it’s painful. There’s so much sadness. That place took so much from so many people…

Our conversation circles me, the precision of it all so obvious it hurts. But one part stands out above the rest…

She’s right. I haven’t really begun to heal. How can I when I don’t know what wounds I am healing?

My mind goes back to my dream and something tells me that the reason I can’t remember isn’t because of what happened to me but who, and that scares me more than anything.

“I promise you, Emmy, I will get us out of here.”

* * *

With each stroke of the brush, I feel the tension leave my body.

My paintings are dark, they are glimpses of a world that proves hell on earth. They are glimpses of the past… my dreams. I have painted lighter things… things that hold meaning in a future I want for myself. But when I need to let go, this is what comes out on paper.

With each one I am able to let go a little more. I am able to gain control, able to turn something ugly into something beautiful.

After my conversation with Bailey I came straight to my canvas, needing to clear my mind. Needing to take control. Pulling back, I admire the picture.

Kneeling in the middle of a wheat field, a little boy clutches his sister’s dead body. Both are covered in sweat and dirt and the background is dark from the falling sun, but the aura around them glows bright. The painting is from the memory of the boy. He had told me his story one day while I was teaching an art class at the hospital. He told me how he lost his sister, how he held her until they took her away. His story was raw and haunting, but in my painting I show his strength, I show peace. I show her leaving the life of hell. I show contentment and sorrow in his face…. I show light in the dark.

I take control.

A knock sounds at my door drawing me away.

“Come in.” Setting my paintbrush down, I turn and face Buck.

His eyes survey my painting and a chilling look shadows his face before gaining composure and his eyes meet mine.

“I’m heading into town, thought maybe you would like to get out of the house.”

My shoulders sag in relief and my body buzzes with excitement.

We haven’t left the house since arriving. Both Buck and Drifter have been keeping us busy here, letting us decorate and turn this place into a dream. Anytime we even mentioned getting out, they both found something more for us to do. Drifter says he wants us to be comfortable here, that he wants us to feel safe. He wants us to make this place our sanctuary. But I can’t help but feel like there is more to it than keeping us busy.

The smile on my face answers his question and he nods. Turning to leave he throws over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Shooting off my stool, I rush to the bathroom and quickly wash my face, doing my best to get the paint from my hands. Staring up at my refection, my green eyes shine with excitement. I run my hand through my hair trying to tame my dark curls to no avail. Letting it cascade down my shoulders, it stops right above the swell of my breasts. Looking down at my tee and jeans splattered with paint, I shrug. This will do.

Coming out of the bathroom, I grab my necklace that rests on my dresser and clasp it around my neck before hurrying out of my room and heading over to Bailey’s room. Quietly opening her door, I find her passed out on her bed. My stomach dips at the sight. She looks so small, so timid.

She’s been sleeping so much since we got here. Taking the step forward and moving has taken a lot out of her. Our conversation today was the most life I have seen in her all week. Not wanting to wake her, I quietly shut the door and head down the stairs.

She just needs time to adjust, I tell myself, hoping I’m right.

Lost in thought, Buck’s deep voice halts me as I come off the steps.

“Do they know?”

“What do you think? I haven’t spoken to them since I told him it was a lost cause.” Drifter’s voice comes out anxious and I can picture him pacing.

Who are they talking about?

Tiptoeing past the living room, I peek around the corner that leads to the kitchen. The pale yellow walls that I painted cause both men to seem out of place. Standing with his arms crossed, Buck leans against the granite counter, watching intently as Drifter paces in front of him.

“She deserves to know.”

Silence follows Buck’s statement. Drifter’s pacing stops and I watch as his hands clench.

Spinning around, he slams his fists against the counter, the bang from the force causing me to jump.

“She’s not safe,” Drifter barks turning back to Buck. “Once they find out, they will be after blood. Until this shit gets settled, we have no fucking choice.” Stepping up they go toe to toe. “Don’t fuck this up Buck. You know damn well you can’t force this shit on her.” Stillness lingers as they stare each other down, neither one backing away from the other. Whatever they are talking about has ice shooting through my veins.

I may not remember all of my past but I’m not stupid, I know they are talking about me and whatever it is has my stomach twisting in knots.

Something is going on. I have known they have been keeping something from me. I just haven’t pushed to find out what it is. I’m too afraid of what it might be.

“What if she remembers on her own?” Buck’s voice comes out so calm, so serious that the hairs on my arms stand. “This is her hometown. Answers to questions she doesn’t even know exist are going to make themselves known. There’s no stopping that.”

This is my home?

Throwing my hands over my mouth, my knees lock keeping me from sliding to the floor. The admission that this town is where I’m from is enough to knock me down.

I knew there was more to this place. It all was so familiar, so calming. But for this to be where I’m from… it makes my past more real. It means that something happened here that forced me into slavery.

The question that scares me isn’t if I will remember this town but if this town will remember me and what those memories will be? What if I am unwanted?

“You going to be ready for that?” Drifter asks, drawing me back to their conversation.

Unfolding his arms, Buck pushes off the counter as if the question forces him to go on alert. “She will hate us,” he grinds out, anguish clear in his voice.

Letting my hands fall from my face, I grip the wall for support.

“No, she won’t.” Drifter’s answer comes out in disbelief. “It’s not in her to hate anyone. Even if they deserve it.”

Breathing, heavy tears spring to my eyes. What they are saying wars with what I can’t remember. No matter where I turn my history is not far behind.

My conversation earlier with Bailey comes to mind; I can’t heal until I know what’s wounded…that’s just it, isn’t it? I can’t outrun my past because I’m still living in it. I can lie to myself all I want but the truth still remains- Until I can come to terms with the loss I have lived, then I will forever be stuck.

I will forever be lost.

Pulling away from the corner I try to gather myself. I came here because something about this town called to me. Regardless of the history I may have here, I came because I wanted to start living my life. No matter what secrets this town may hold, I can’t let it keep me back.

Steeling myself, I walk into the kitchen, the tension causing me to nearly choke. Buck and Drifter both lean against the counter. Buck stares into the distance while Drifter buries his head in his hands. Something strong and profound has these men to the point where they seem almost lost… and I have something to do with it.

No… I have everything to do with it.

Clearing my throat, both men jerk and face me, both struggle to put their masks in place.

Opening my mouth, I go to say something assuring, something to ease their worries. There is nothing in this world either of these men could have ever done to make me hate them, they saved my life… but something stops me from speaking out, and that bothers me.

“I’m ready,” I say, my shaky voice betraying me. With my emotions all over the place, uncertainty causes me to bow my head.

Buck is the first to move as his boots come into my line of vision. 

“Look at me, Emmalyn.” His command sends a calm familiarity through me and I meet his eyes.

His stare consumes me as he searches for something. What he’s looking for, I don’t know, but I know the moment he finds it. His mask disappears and he shows me the sadness and worry he tries so hard to hide, to never show.

I could never hate them…

“You heard.” It’s not a question but a statement. I try to look down in shame but he doesn’t let me. Gripping my chin, he holds my face so we are looking into each other’s eyes.

“Do you have questions?” Buck asks, his tone coming out soft but direct.

“Buck,” Drifter barks in caution from behind him.

With his hard look back in place, he glances over his shoulder in warning then looks back to me. “I’m serious, Emmy.”

Looking between the two, the feeling of anxiety crawls up my throat. He is offering me a way out. He is offering to give me answers… answers to questions I have had since I woke up with no memory, questions that for the past five years I was okay with not knowing… I didn’t want to know.

Even with the revelation that I can’t move forward without learning what happened; even knowing I need to take that leap, I can’t just jump into it. The fear that has been with me from the beginning hasn’t lessened, if anything it has grown stronger… the knowledge that answers lie at my fingertips fuels the fire.

You have to walk before you can run… you have to jump before you can fly.

I just need time... time to run, time to fly.

Shaking my head, I answer through the vise-grip on my throat. “I just want to go into town.”

Giving a nod he asks, “Where’s Bailey?”

“She’s sleeping.”

Concern etches his features, his worry for her mirroring mine. Turning to Drifter he barks, “You should take her into town and get what we need and I’ll stay with Bailey.”

Facing back to me, he runs his thumb across my cheek before letting go and dropping his finger to the chain around my neck. “Be safe,” he mutters looking at the tiny heart.

Letting go, he brushes past me, his tenderness lingering even after he is gone.

Giving me a small smile Drifter walks up to me, gaining my attention. “Truck or bike, sweetheart?”

I let out a relieved breath. Just like that the grip of anxiety is gone and I answer with a smile, “Bike.”

“That’s my girl.”