Page 175 of Beautifully Damaged Boxset

“Holden? What’s wrong? Don’t go. Don’t leave me!”

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, then a scream tore from my throat.

My body jerked out of the ice-cold water, and I gasped.

“Listen to my voice,” Jace said. “You’re here at the hotel with Chance and me. You’re coming out of hypnosis, Holden. Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale.”

I blinked my eyes several times and grabbed the side of the tub. “I’m fucking freezing.” My teeth chattered as the guys helped me out.

Chance immediately drained the bath and turned on the shower. “Get those clothes off,” Chance ordered. “Let’s get you under some hot water.”

My limbs were so weak and numb I couldn’t shed the wet jeans and shirt. Jace and Chance continued to talk to me as they removed my wet clothes down to my boxer-briefs. I stepped under the steaming spray.

“I’m going to make it a little warmer.” Chance turned the knob, and the steam began to billow into the room.

“What the fuck happened?” Jace asked. “And don’t give us a line of bullshit. We know something went down. I’ve never heard such a terrified scream in my whole goddamned life. I almost pissed myself.”

Beginning to feel my limbs again, I flexed and remained in the stream of water. How could I possibly tell them what I’d seen? I’d struggled the last time, but this … I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind. “I finally saw the face of the little kid that’s always calling my name.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

I turned off the water and Chance handed me a towel. Once I dried off, I excused myself to change in my room.

Seconds later, a soft knock grabbed my attention. “We’ve gotta talk about this, Holden,” Jace said. “If we don’t, the memories will fade. We need all of the details we can get.”

I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and a fresh pair of jeans, then I let him in. “I know.”

“Chance is in the living area.”

Silently, I followed behind him, still reeling from what I’d experienced. I rubbed my face with my hands and groaned. “Why do I keep reaching for the truth? This shit was buried for a reason.” Exhausted, I sank into the chair. Jace collected his notebook and pen, then settled in, poised and ready. Chance rubbed his hands together, his features full of worry.

“I saw the same girl I’d seen on the leash. When I first went under, I was in a basement, I think. The smell of dirt was strong. She was in a … cell.” I closed my eyes, willing myself to verbalize the horror I’d seen. “She was naked and shivering. I think I was trying to help her, but the door required a key.”

The sound of Jace’s pen scratching words onto the paper filled the room.

“The cell faded when I heard the same kid call my name.” My pulse throbbed wildly, and little beads of perspiration began to form on my back. Chance and Jace stared at me, waiting for me to go on. “I was young, too. I think we were the same age. Maybe four or five.”

“That’s the same age every time from my notes. Right around there,” Jace said.

I nodded. “The kid made me promise they wouldn’t rip us apart. I tried to ask who, but they hugged me instead. When … when he stepped back, I saw his face for the first time.” I cleared my throat, head dipping down.

“Do you know who he is?” Chance asked gently.

I nodded, then my attention bounced between them. “It was me.” My voice cracked as goosebumps peppered my skin.

“What?” Jace asked. “Are you sure? Like was the memory fuzzy or … ”

I pursed my lips. “I’m positive. I saw my face.”

Jace scribbled like a mad man in his notebook while Chance leaned back in his chair. “The scream that came out of you.” He shook his head. “It was fucked up.”

“Oh, the whole thing was fucked up.” I ran my hand through my hair, flicking tiny droplets of water onto my jeans. “I don’t feel like I’m any closer to understanding. My subconscious is obviously giving me two sides of … of I don’t even know.”

“This is what we have so far: a house you don’t recognize, a little boy begging you for help, adults who are abusing kids in their late teens.” Jace tapped the end of his pen against the paper. “You’ve seen this young lady twice and the little boy calls your name every damned time.”

“It’s obviously someone close to you,” Chance added. “You probably see yourself in him. Like you were close when you were young. What about a best friend when you were that age? Did your parents know anyone that lost a child or something difficult for your mind to understand when you were young?”

I barked out a maniacal laugh. “I have no memories from the ages of three to five, remember?”

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