Page 90 of Wicked Truths
I laugh. It’s a harsh sound with no humor. “Now you want to play mother? After you’ve spent years treating her and her sisters like they were an inconvenience?”
“She needs me,” Helena insists. “She doesn’t even remember you.”
“She doesn’t remember you either, and here she has all the care she needs,” I tell her. “My answer is final.”
23
Amara
I stare at myselfin the bathroom mirror, my fingers gently tracing the edges of a purple-yellow bruise on my collarbone. The colors have faded, melting into each other like watercolors do when the brush is swished into water.
I press my fingertip on the bruise that runs toward my shoulder.
“Fuck,” I hiss, wincing as a sharp pain radiates outward.
I’ve been home over a week now, and the angry reds have mellowed to something less alarming than when I first saw them.
Everyone still tiptoes around me, though, treating me like I’m made of glass and about to shatter.
Dom hovers constantly, his eyes following me whenever I’m in the room. He’s attentive in a way that feels both comforting and suffocating.
But it makes me feel like it’s what I need.
My eyes lift again. The mirror shows a stranger with my face. A girl with hollow eyes who doesn’t remember howshe got these marks that decorate her body like unwanted tattoos.
More than anything, I’m a girl who wants to know who these people are around me.
Caleb and Poppy visit daily, bringing books and flowers. Dom makes sure Caleb and I are never alone. He’s always there, watching with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me as Poppy chatters about dance and school. I want to join her. I just hope one day I can.
Yesterday, Lia visited with Dante, Rafe, and Cade. It was a shock to find out she is in a relationship with all three men, and I can’t help but wonder how that would feel. Nice, I suppose. Especially as the way they orbit around her, protective and adoring, makes something twist inside me. I’m not sure if it’s jealousy or curiosity.
While Milly tends to try to make me laugh with outrageous stories and jokes about my “convenient amnesia,” Lia is more serious. She sits close, holds my hand, and talks about finding whoever did this to me. There’s a hardness in her eyes when she says it. She seems cold and determined to get whoever hurt me, and that makes me believe she’ll tear apart the person when she does.
“Amara,” Milly’s voice sing-songs from my room.
“In here,” I call back.
I hear her footsteps approaching, light and quick. If there’s one person I trust completely, it’s Milly. I don’t remember anything, but I feel it in my bones—I feel that she’s my sister, my blood. When she’s around, I don’t haveto pretend I know more than I do. With her, I can just be this broken version of myself.
She loves me unconditionally.
I drop my hand from my face, still staring at my reflection. The girl looking back at me seems uncertain, lost in a world she should recognize but doesn’t.
“Are you okay?” Milly asks, leaning against the doorframe.
I turn to face her, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just...getting used to all this.” I gesture vaguely at my bruised body.
“The bruises will fade,” she says, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about them.”
“I know they’ll disappear,” I sigh. “I just hope my memories replace them.”
Milly squeezes me into a tight hug, and I wince slightly as she presses against a tender spot. She immediately loosens her grip, apologizing with her eyes as she steps back.
“Come on,” she says, tugging me toward my bedroom. “Let’s sit.”
As we settle on my bed, Milly pulls a chocolate bar from her pocket. She unwraps it and breaks off several chunks, placing them in my palm.
“Thanks,” I mumble, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. The sweetness is comforting, familiar in a way few thingsare right now.
