Page 76 of Memories with Fire

“Wake up,” a voice says, penetrating through the dense fog in my head. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

Pain erupts in my hip, and I have the vague sense that I’m rolling which makes my stomach queasiness worsen. My face itches, and something digs into my back. I squirm to try and get away from it only to realize it’s my hands, but for some reason they won’t move or do what I want them to.

“I said wake up,” the voice, a woman’s I realize, says again and shoves my other hip.

My eyes flutter, but the light in the room has them closing again. It makes the nausea worse. Migraine. Since my first accident, I get them here and there, but there’s normally a reason.

Then, through the continuous drumbeat in my head, words filter through and make sense.

Hit you.

I didn’t hit you that hard.

Opening my eyes and pushing back against the eruption of pain behind them, the world is a blur, my vision swimming for a moment before I’m able to focus. My dresser on my right, my bed on the left. A woman with shoulder length black hair. Lips the size of Texas. Leering at me.

“Hi Hailey,” Priscylla crows, perched on the end of my bed.

Shoulder length? That doesn’t make sense. It was long before.

I struggle to free my arms again, trying to scramble away from her at the same time, but I hardly move. That’s when it dawns on me that I’m tied up. That’s why I can’t move my hands from where they’re digging into my back. Trying to move my feet, I realize it’s not only my hands—my ankles are tied together too.

Opening my mouth to talk—or yell—there’s more resistance. Tape. That’s why my face itches.

“You’re a distraction,” she tells me, leaning back on the bed, using her arms to support her. It puts her swollen belly on display. “Luke doesn’t need distractions. Especially ones as horrible as you.”

I stare up at her, squinting against the light and the throbbing in my head, my heart racing as I try to sort out what’s happening. It’s like I’m swimming through murky water, trying desperately to find the surface and make sense of what’s going on around me, but the pain is unbearable.

“How could you desert him like you did all those years ago? I’ll never understand it. He’s such an incredible guy, you know?” Her chest rises with a deep breath, a dreamy look coming over her. “Sweet, funny, hot. A firefighter. He’s perfect.”

That’s not all he is. This woman doesn’t know him if that’s all she thinks he is.

“And you hurt him. Not once, but twice. I can’t stand for that,” she says, her shoulders rising and then falling with a deep sigh. “I saw you at his place with him the other day. He was on his knees for you, and you just… walked away. How do you do that to a man as flawless as him?”

Something I’ve been asking myself all week,even though I knew I needed time to sort through my life.

“Do you know how many women would kill for a man like him to be on his knees for them?”

The question has my lunch threatening to come up my throat. I swallow hard, trying to keep my breathing even through my nose, realizing just how precarious my situation is. Is that her plan here? To kill me? And then what—go to jail and not be able to raise her child?

She leans over and grabs my hair, using it to pull me towards her. I don’t move much, whether because I’m heavy or she’s weak, I don’t know, but she’s close enough that I can smell garlic on her breath. Pain shoots through my scalp, doing nothing to help the hammering in my head, and for a moment my vision blurs.

“I wanted to hurt you then. You deserved to be boot stomped for hurting him. Honestly, you still do,” she says, violently pushing my head away from her.

Somehow, I manage to keep my head from bouncing on the carpeted floor, but the movement alone has the nausea making me heave, and I try to roll to my side in fear of throwing up. Then I realize if I do, the only thing I’m going to be able to do is swallow it thanks to the tape on my mouth.

“But instead, I followed you here, deciding I’d watch you for a little while. If you’re what Luke wants, I have to become you.” Perched back on the bed, a hand comes to her stomach to caress her belly. “You made it easy. It wasn’t ten minutes before you were walking out the door with a packed bag. I followed you to the hotel you stayed in the first night, and once I figured you were settled, I came back here.”

Tears from gagging wet my face as I stare up at her. Considering she’s in my bedroom, that shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, but it’s the first my brain is recognizing what this means. I haven’t been home in a week. I spent my first two nights in a hotel, and the last ones at Quinn’s because I didn’t want to come across Luke or my mom. Staying in Santa Rosé seemed like the best decision.

“I spent my evenings here, learning as much as I could about you—cute box of keepsakes from your time with Luke, by the way, I really loved finding that,” Priscylla croons, a smile cruel and vicious slipping across her face. “I burned it, but it was cute.”

I glance in the direction of my closet where that box sat for years. It’s not at the top of my priority list right now, but it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, thinking about all my memories being gone.

“Then I spent my days trailing you. God, you’re boring,” she says, pulling my attention back to her. “I’m going to spice that up once you’re not in the picture anymore. Luke isn’t boring, you know. He likes excitement and thrills. I truly don’t know what he sees in you.”

The veiled threat is right there, and my brain picks up on it immediately. This deranged lunatic is going to kill me. I need to do something or I’m going to die. Oh god, I’m going to die.

No, I haven’t even lived. I can’t die. There’s too much I still need to do. Be in love, get married, have kids—all with Luke, if he’ll have me after I pushed him away. Go on the Double Drop as many times as possible. Conquer the rest of Tree Toppers. Oh god, I even told Dr. Rinkins I would consider skydiving if it meant being with Luke.

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