The Lost Girl (34 page)

I had forgotten to prepare myself for the view in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was pretty beat-up: purple bruises marked the length of her jawline and neck, there was a red scratch on top of one cheek, a busted lip, but the worst thing for me was the look in her eyes. They were so sad and hollow, like a spark had gone out.

I didn’t know how long I stood there staring at myself, wondering how I was supposed to move on from this. I had survived twice: Vigil’s maddening powers and mad Jarvis. I had survived the noise of rattling chains and the urging whispers inside my head. I had survived bonds, ropes and a steel knife. I had survived it all, with just a few bruises and a stomach wound.

For a moment I had thought I’d escaped fairly unscathed from this nightmare, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Vigil’s powers had messed me up so badly and left me living in a broken shell of a mind. Now I had to deal with the wreckage that was left: the overload of guilt, sadness, fear and helplessness taking up my soul, just like the burning fire once did my veins.

I had to learn to be me again, to be human again in this broken body. And I didn’t know how. I had lost myself in the midst of all my struggles for survival; gone was that little part of me that used to spark with life and make my
eyes gleam with courage and confidence. Now I needed to get that light back and start over. How was I supposed to do that? I didn’t even know where to begin.

The door of the bathroom opened and Tristan peered inside. “Joe? I’ve been knocking on the door for some time and you didn’t respond …” He peeked a glance at me through the reflection in the mirror. “You’ve been in here for a while now; I was getting worried. Is everything … okay?” he asked hesitantly as I looked back at him. We could both see that I’d been crying. I wiped the tears away quickly with the back of my hand.

“Ah, Joey … come here,” he said, stepping inside and pulling me into his embrace. His arms wrapped around my battered body, his chin resting on top of my head.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay now,” I apologized, burying my face in his chest.

“Stop apologizing for this and stop saying you are okay. Anyone can see you’re not,” he said. The harshness of his tone made me cringe. I was afraid of his anger.

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

He let out a long breath of frustration before pulling me away from him, so he could look me in the eyes. “My love, I’m not mad at you.” Then he wiped the rest of my tears away, sat on a little plastic bench in the corner and pulled me to sit on his lap, cradling me softly in his arms. “I’m mad at a lot of things right now, but not at you, Joey. I’m mad for not being in the house when you switched your powers back with Vigil. I’m mad at that psychopath who hurt you … I’m mad for not getting my hands on that sick bastard Jarvis and killing him myself. I’m mad at me for being this useless, this helpless.”

“I’m so sorry, Tris,” I said, gripping on to his neck.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Joey. But you don’t have to pretend everything is all right. I saw how hard you were trying to be fine for everybody today. You don’t need to do that. It’s okay to be sad, to cry. You’ve been through a lot,” he said, pulling me closer to him. “But you don’t have to go through this alone.
I am here
. You have
me
. Please, let me be here for you. Let me help you.”

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. It was as if the moment I saw Tristan looking at me in the mirror, something had frozen all of my tears inside. Maybe it was because I couldn’t handle the pain that flashed in his eyes whenever he saw that I was in pain. I didn’t want to make him suffer. I had done plenty of that already.

I snuggled into his chest and he rocked me slowly back and forth. My hand brushed across his jaw, and the scuff of his stubble scratched at my skin. He had been in the hospital for a long time and hadn’t shaved. He looked less of a boy now, more of a man. But it wasn’t just his appearance on the outside. The glow in his eyes was more mature, too. He had grown up in the past few days …

“I can’t stand seeing everybody so worried and sad because of me,” I confessed quietly.

“They worry because they want you to be okay. They are sad because you’re hurting, and they don’t want to see you hurt. They love you very much. I love you very much.”

“I love you too.” I sighed deeply. “I’m so tired … Can I sleep now?”

He smiled softly and kissed me on the forehead. “Yes, you can, sweetheart.”

And then he carried me back to my bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

After I was discharged from the hospital, Tristan had called Big Johnson to talk about Jarvis – his cousin. I made sure I was there so I could use my empathy-sight to note if he told us the truth or not, and if he’d had any part in Jarvis’s plans.

Tristan had changed a few parts of the story to cover all the supernatural stuff. Big Johnson had been in complete shock at it all. I could see the disgust in his eyes as well as the shame and guilt at having been deceived by his cousin, and for not being able to protect me.

Yet even after I had confirmed his innocence, I still had to let him go. He was sad that he wouldn’t be working for us any longer, but he understood why. The memory of his cousin would always be with me, and I couldn’t bear to relive it every time I looked at his face and saw the resemblance to his cousin.

Tiffany, Amanda and Becca came to visit every day, and sometimes other close friends, including the Harker sisters, who were eager to know how everything had worked out with Vigil and Sneaky Nick – Celeste particularly asked about Vigil. But I didn’t want to see any of them. I was
tired of explaining the bruises on my face and on my wrists, having to cover up the horrid story behind them. I was tired of it all. I kept myself locked in my room whether there were visitors or not, to be honest. My room was my sanctuary, my fortress, the only place I felt safe.

Tristan and the boys kept hovering round me, checking to see if I needed anything. I knew they meant well and that they were only worried, but their constant attention only irritated me and stressed me out. I had to keep forcing myself to put on a brave face around them, and it was exhausting. I began to feel so incredibly tired all the time.

I tried to look happy on the outside, but inside I was breaking down. Depression filled me to my very core. I felt so weak, vulnerable and powerless, and every little thing seemed too big to face. Everything scared me.

Everybody had sort of put their lives on hold because of me and that made me even more upset. They shouldn’t have to stop their lives for me, and it only made me feel like a burden.

I was done being a cause of grievance in everyone’s lives. So after the second week of bed rest and motherly pampering, I told my mom she should get back to her life and her work; I was going to be just fine with the boys. She agreed to go home, reluctantly, and left soon after my stitches were out.

I knew Sam, Harry and Josh had travel plans for the summer break with Jamie and his friends, and that Seth and Tiffany had booked an awesome trip to the Worthingtons’ summer cottage too. I had already taken up too much of their vacation time with my problems, and now that everything was back to normal they should get out and enjoy themselves. They had been waiting for me to get
better before they could enjoy their time off. It took some time and a few tantrums before I managed to get them all to agree to start packing.

I was going to stay in the house with Tristan, who didn’t even let me suggest that he should go and have some fun and enjoy his vacation too. We had been sleeping in different rooms since returning from the hospital. I had decided to have my mom stay in my room with me, so she could take care of me, and after she left I just stayed there. Tristan didn’t press me to move back to his room, but I knew it was something he constantly thought about.

He didn’t understand why I kept putting this distance between us; he didn’t know where we stood. I could see the confusion in his eyes. Were we together? Were we not? Why was I avoiding being alone with him? At the hospital I’d told him that we were good, yet I wasn’t acting like it. I didn’t know why. I didn’t understand what was going on inside me. All I knew was that I wouldn’t let anyone get too close. I kept pushing everyone out – even him – locking myself away in this tight shell.

He had been struggling to find a middle ground between smothering me and giving me space. He didn’t know if he needed to force himself to be more present, or to just leave me alone. It was turning Tristan into this anxious, conflicted, neurotic person. And again, it was all my fault.

We were both lost, not knowing what to do next. Maybe he couldn’t do anything for me at all; he couldn’t help me with this. This was something I had to do by myself. I had to heal on my own.

The day after the boys had left for their holidays, we received a surprise visit.

I was resting on my bed when I heard the doorbell ring, and a couple of minutes later Tristan entered the room, his face looking slightly flustered.

“Uh, Joey … Caleb Jones is here to see you.”

I looked at Tristan and snorted loudly, as if he had just told me the most amusing joke.

“No, I’m serious. He’s really here. He’s asking to see you.” He hesitated, clearly at a loss for words. “I think someone told him you were sick … I dunno …”

“You’re not joking,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m really serious. Caleb Jones from The Accidentals is downstairs, in our living room.”

“Who told him where I lived? Or that I was sick?”

“I don’t know. What should I do?”

“Well, I’ll go downstairs and talk to him, then …”

I tried to move too quickly on the bed, making my stomach sting a little. I grimaced. I guessed I wasn’t a hundred per cent healed like I had forced myself to believe.

“Stop! You stay put, I’ll bring him up,” Tristan said, frowning at me.

I was about to protest but he had already left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a beaming Beanie Boy right behind him.

“Hey, Gray! Heard you had some hospital problems and were feeling a little down, so I thought I’d stop by and pay you a visit, help raise your spirits,” he said, smiling. But he faltered when he saw my face. There were still a few bruises lingering; the nasty darker ones were gone, but a few light spots still remained here and there. I hadn’t been expecting any more visitors, so I hadn’t bothered trying to cover them with make-up.

“Whoa, what happened to you? Becca told me you’d
had a little accident, and you were recovering, but that looks nasty,” he said bluntly, walking from behind Tristan towards my bed. “I may have insisted she hand me your address so I could visit. Hope you don’t mind …” He was wearing his gray beanie again, a few blond locks poking out in disarray.

“Huh. Yeah, you could say I had a ‘little accident’,” I said, embarrassed. “But I’m all right now.”

“There were rumors that you were having your tonsils removed, but I get the feeling it was something more than that …”

“Yeah …” I said, and trailed off. I didn’t really want to get back onto that topic again.

Caleb noticed I wasn’t in the mood to discuss it and dropped the subject. “So, Tristan, do you think you can get me a drink or something?” he asked, not fazed by Tristan’s intense stare.

“Oh. Okay, yeah. So, huh … I’ll go get you a drink, Caleb,” Tristan said, clearly reluctant but being polite. He hesitated by the door for a second and sighed, then walked outside, giving us some privacy – even though he was clearly not comfortable leaving me alone with Caleb.

Caleb watched Tristan depart, with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, and then sat down on the bed, chuckling lightly. “Well,
that
was painful to watch. He really doesn’t want you to be alone with me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it was a bad judgment call … I wouldn’t leave me in a room alone with a girl, either,” he said, giving me a wink.

I rolled my eyes. That was Caleb Jones: an annoying, conceited womanizer. “Don’t make me throw a boot at your face, Jones,” I warned him.

Both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ah! That’s
my girl. My Snappy is back! Thank God,” he said, putting a hand over his heart, dramatically. “I’m really not a fan of you with the chilling manner and blank stares, you know? Last time I saw you …”

I fumbled awkwardly with the hem of my shirt. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was … going through some stuff. But I’m okay now. I think …” I mumbled, embarrassed that Caleb had seen me at my worst, flipped-out on Vigil’s powers.

“I’m glad you’re good, Snappy. I brought you some get-well flowers, but your boyfriend over there almost had a seizure when he saw them. He said you’re allergic to flowers and tossed them in the trash, which I know is bull, cos I read somewhere you love flowers …”

“You brought me white lilies, didn’t you?” I asked, guessing why Tristan had freaked out.

“Yeah! How did you know?”

“Had a hunch. I kind of had a little … traumatic experience, recently … with lilies,” I said. “It’s a long story, but let’s just say I’m not much of a fan of lilies now. But you didn’t know that, so, thank you. It’s the thought that counts.”

“Oh. Sorry. Guess I’m all about embarrassing faux pas today,” he said, leaning back and resting his hands behind him on the bed. “Next time I’ll bring you some chocolate, then. Is chocolate clear around here?”

“Chocolate is good. Always a safe bet,” I said, giving him a smile.

“So, how are you, really? This little ‘I’m sooo okay’ act of yours is really not convincing, you know?” he said with a side-smirk.

I sighed. “I
am
okay, Caleb. I wish people would stop asking me that every five minutes …”

His expression softened. “People are allowed to be worried. And I’m not talking about the bruises. You look all … sad … and tired … and depressed.”

“Gee, thank you so much. You look amazing, too,” I scoffed, glaring at him. “If this is you trying to console someone, I don’t want to be around you when you’re trying to be mean.”