Page 51

“I haven’t been able to sleep without my medication,” I say bluntly. There is no point in holding anything back anymore. “And I can’t stop thinking about the shed.”

Regina sits next to me. “You were hurting yourself in your sleep. If you can’t wake up in that state, we must ensure you’re not in it. It’s my fault. I didn’t realize you were abusing them. I should have seen the signs. Are you ready to continue?”

I fidget, rubbing my wrists, reliving that awful memory. I survived it…I must have, because I’m still here. Somewhere locked up in my brain is a memory that will explain everything.

I keep my eyes down and run my hands through my knotted hair. “Don’t worry Dr. Price, you still know lots of things about me no one else does. I’m sure next time the signals will slap you in the face.”

She tilts her head and peers at me for a few seconds, staring as if she doesn’t recognize me. A patient that needs to be tamed.

She darts her eyes to the door, scans the room for the nearest exit as I sit calm and comfortable cross-legged on the couch. She is perfectly put together, and I am less than composed. My inner demons threatening to spill out…although others seem to have these demons as well.

Nick isn’t the Constellation Killer…The notion of that is ridiculous.

He’s a vigilante.

She swallows a pit in her throat, which is the only outward sign she fears me.

“Can you elaborate on that comment, Layla?”

“You’re the only person in this entire world that knows about him.”

She arches her brows. “You mean the Archer?”

I stare at her without blinking. “You get a lot of money from my family, don’t you?” My high-profile case made her career so that’s a silly question.

Her cold, silent response put shivers down my spine. She glances down and scribbles some notes into her book. “The details of my employment are none of your business. Have you received any more of those text messages? Has he reached out?”

I give her a flat stare, and a smile hints at my lips. “I thought he didn’t exist?”

She pins me with a stare of her own. “He doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean text messages can’t be real. The two are independent of each other. When did the messages start?”

I run my nail over my wrist thinking of how hard I must have pressed at night to draw blood on myself. Pretty damn hard. My focus lands on Regina waiting for her to respond. I don’t have to see my eyes to tell they are dead inside. Every day I’m here, a piece of me goes missing. “The day Toby died,” I tell her.

“And that’s the same time you started hurting yourself at night?”

“I suppose.”

She scribbles some more, and we sit in awkward silence before she finally glances up at me, pushing her glasses up her nose. She’s good…I get why my mother likes her. “Are you ready for your session? I have a feeling what happens next isn’t pleasant.”

I wet my lips, resting my head. As I close my eyes, I’m once again hanging from the ropes, my wrists broken, my body limp. Pain stabs into my shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Chapter 23

Captivity

“Fuck. Layla, wake up, baby.”

Nick shakes me, placing his fingers on my throat to check my pulse. My eyes are like liquid clay as I try to open them, and my body is cemented to the ground. I am no longer weightless; I’m heavy—so incredibly heavy—my face is pressed against the forest floor as I breathe dirt into my lungs. I have no memory of how I’d gotten here, only that I’m not dangling in the shed anymore.

“Wake up,” Nick says again, with an increasing manic voice, but it still sounds a million miles away. “Come on, Layla, wake up. Time to open your eyes.”

I orient myself, even though parts of me are still aware of my body elsewhere, that this isn’t reality, but a memory. A soft voice is counting down somewhere else. A tenderness aches in my ribs from my stretched body; my arms and shoulders are throbbing. Yet the pain remains an intoxicating reminder of my fragility.

As my eyes open, Nick’s face crystallizes against the bright sun. “Nick,” I choke out. He pulls my boneless body from the ground and into his arms. He’s sweaty and hot. “Goddammit. I thought I lost you.”

My vision clears as he takes me in, his eyebrows pinched together, with so much emotion flowing through his eyes. The sun beats down on us ruthlessly. I can’t help it, I crumble into his arms. He cradles me and pulls out a water bottle, which he brings to my lips and pours over my head. The cool liquid soothes me from the inside out.

I’m drowsy again, but he keeps giving me water. “Stay with me, Layla. You have heatstroke. You have to keep drinking water. It’s not time to die, yet.” A few long sips of water revive my mind and body, and I’m able to truly see him. He grabs my arms, keeping me upright.