Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
That’s what I heard her telling the doctors.
I don’t recall hitting my head at all, but somehow, the spot above the scar on my temple had started to swell and bleed right before the ambulance arrived.
What happened that night is a mystery to me. I was fine—ecstatic, even. The picnic was wonderfully romantic. My first orgasm with Alex was freakin’ amazing. And then, the moment I’ve been wishing for forever came. That beautiful, talented, sweet, caring, sexy-as-hell man told me he was falling in love with me. And I remember thinking all my dreams were coming true. My heart had jumped with excitement, and it didn’t come back down.
It got stuck.
And then, out of nowhere, while I was waiting for my heart to get unstuck, it felt as if a switch flipped in my head.
It was like someone else slid right into me. Their body lining perfectly with mine, their hands in my hands, their head in my head, their lips in my lips. Everything became blurry and distorted. Words came out of my mouth in an odd voice that confused me just as much as they confused Alex.
I’m Brianna.
It wasn’t the first time I’ve felt that other girl trying to slip into me like a shadow. She’s been there for a long time, at the edge of my memories, tickling my skin, whispering in my ear, like an old friend. I liked her. Her presence became normal to me. I went about my life with her tucked in the back like an old postcard. Until apparently she wanted more.
I’m Brianna.
What if it’s true? If she’s me. If I’m her. If we’re one.
Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s not a bad thing at all.
But I wonder… is her hope to merge with me, or take over completely? That’s the question that keeps me up at night. Or at least it tries to, but it loses against the current of drugs that pull me into the endless ocean of sleep.
During my initial daily sessions, I asked the doctor if it—me being Brianna—was possible. Desperate for help, I told her every strange memory I’ve had—even ones I had as a baby. I told her all about the strange feelings, the memory pictures, how I escaped the house as a little girl, I told her about the things I just knew that I had no way to know. She smiled a smile that was meant to be comforting, kept nodding, then said absolutely not. She prescribed a pill, which chased the Brianna-shaped shadow back into the dark. I told her I couldn’t stop crying because I wanted to go back home to Alex and Lily, and she gave me a pill for that, too. Days later, I told her I felt lost and confused, and my brain was fuzzy. I told her I couldn’t paint or write anymore. Another pill was added. Every day, I forget a little bit more about Brianna, and the little house on the lake, and Cherry, and about Lily and my Alex.
Every day, I feel myself fading away into the abyss along with them. Penny is starting to seem just as unreal as Brianna. I keep wondering when the pills will start to work. When will I feel better again and go home?
If I let myself forget for a little while…just enough to not be delusional…will I remember again when I’m better? Will I be okay then?
Shivering, I pull my blanket up over my shoulders. It does little to comfort me. The fabric is stiff and infused with the scent of bleach. It gives me a headache. I touch my ruby ring and idly spin it around my finger. If I listen closely, I can hear our voices clawing through the fog.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me. It would kill me.”
“I promise, Fox. I’m yours for eternity.”
“Eternity is a long time. Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Nothing could ever take me away from you.”
I have to get better. I have to get back home to Alex and Lily, where my heart belongs.
Chapter 38
ALEX
Kelley once told me grief is like a stray cat. If you feed it, it won’t go away. It might even bring its friends so they can all chow down at your expense.
He was right.
After Bri died, I served my heart and soul to grief on a silver platter. It took me years to close the door. Every now and then it shows up again, rubbing against me, wanting a nibble, but I learned to resist.
But when Penny went away, the stray-cat army of darkness barreled in, screaming, starving, begging, and crying. I caved. I let grief and all its little friends in, and we wept and we partied and we agreed that life sucks. Love sucks. It all sucks.
All I wanted to do was numb the pain.
Looking back—which I do daily—I think I fell in love with Penny the only way I could ever have fallen in love again, with tiny, slow, unwitting, innocent steps. With us, there were no expectations, no pressure, no worrying, no awkward chitchat. We unknowingly created a safe place of friendship and trust that grew into more without us even realizing it was happening. I think that kind of love might be the best kind. Not like when you meet someone new and there’s an immediate attraction, and you think to yourself, I want that person. They become a target that you’re trying to hit. It’s a game, in many ways. Can I win this person? What do I gotta do to impress them? Do they like me, too? Do we have anything in common? Are they gonna hurt me? Let’s roll the dice and find out.