Page 12 of Lost Echoes
Billa
Ryker steps back from the passage. “No way I’m going in there.”
“You aren’t making me go in alone! Why are you being a chicken all of a sudden?”
“I don’t exactly have a glorious history with these passages.”
Because he was living in the one attached to Ember’s room before any of us met him. “Nobody cares about that anymore. Come on.”
He doesn’t budge. “Graham does.”
“Given everything going on with Kenzi, I seriously doubt it.”
“He still gives me the stink eye.”
This is going nowhere, so I grab his arm and yank him inside the secret passage. I must catch him off guard because he doesn’t even fight back. “There. You’re in now. No point in turning back.”
“If Graham tries to kick me out…”
“For what? Going into a random part of the house that’s nowhere near anyone’s bedroom? Get over yourself.” I whip out my phone and use the flashlight feature.
A cockroach skitters away.
“That’s a bad omen.” Ryker gives me a knowing look.
“Now you’re superstitious? You were fine when we were at Radley trying to find that theater.”
He pulls out his phone and shines the light. It’s still dim in here, like the darkness won’t give up without a fight. “Let’s just get this over with. Which way?”
The passage goes both to the right and left, neither looking more promising than the other. I try to tap into my inner child, who drew the map here.
She doesn’t give me a clue either.
“Well?” Ryker taps a foot.
“I’m thinking.”
“You seriously don’t remember any of this?”
“Does it look like I do?” I snap. “Sorry. I’m on edge. I usually have such an excellent memory, and now I’m finding out all kinds of things I had no clue about—going to Radley as a kid, writing these journals to myself, leaving them behind at the rental house, and everything with Laurel. How could I have blocked out all of that?”
“Our brains like to protect us. For most of my childhood, I went back and forth between believing either my dad hated me or he loved me and was trying to find me. Talk about cognitive dissonance, but I didn’t see it. I went with whatever made me feel better at the time. Your memory issues are similar, and it isn’t surprising given the same woman is behind our childhood trauma.”
“You have a point, but that doesn’t mean I have to like having memory gaps.”
“Nobody said you did. Maybe just pick a direction. Your mind might point you where you need to go if you make a snap decision.”
“It’s worth a try.” I close my eyes and try to pick up any sign of which direction we should go.
Nothing.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and give Regina Brannon a piece of her own medicine.
I shove her from my thoughts and open my eyes. “Let’s go right.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Don’t blame me if it’s the wrong way.”
