The Secrets We Keep(10)

5

Noise. That’s what brought me out of the darkness I was trapped in. Voices, alarms, the screech of metal, the thud of running feet—all of it combined into one jumbled mess of noise. I fought through the black fog, tried to grab on to each faint sound, hoping it would pull me farther and farther away from the massive weight that seemed to settle upon me.

“No, not yet,” someone yelled, and the hands I could feel at my side vanished. I tried to move, to bring my fingers to my face and physically claw away the wet haze covering my eyes. But nothing would move. Not my arms, not my head, not even my legs. It was as if my entire body was crammed into a metal vise.

“Easy there.” The voice was back, unfamiliar and soothing at the same time. I felt my eyelids being pried open, the searing light burning into first my left eye, then the right. They fell closed and the light disappeared, the pain lingering behind.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“We have to move.” It was a woman now, her words sharp and curt.

Move? Move where? I wanted to sleep. Sleep? Wait. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to go pick up Maddy. She’d called me from Alex’s house, something about needing a ride home. Wait. No. I was at Alex’s. She was crying out on the back lawn. That’s why I was wet. Her tears were falling on me. Nope, that wasn’t right. It was the rain.

I shook my head, tried to piece together the flashes of information. None of them made sense. She’d said I was the nameless girl. A nobody. That, I remembered, and a bubble of anger resurfaced—anger laced with pain.

Pain? Wait … what? My head hurt. I mean, it freaking killed. Like somebody had taken a pickax to my eyes. And why was I wet? I concentrated on my fingers, got them to obey me enough to brush against each other. They were soaked but warm. Why was the rain warm?

“Stay with me.” There was the man’s voice again, but this time it wasn’t soothing. It sounded urgent, demanding.

My feet were cold. Shoes. I’d left them at Alex’s house. No, Maddy had left hers at Alex’s house. She had mine. She had my sweatshirt and coat, too; that was why I was so cold. At least I thought she did. I tried to look down, but my head wouldn’t move. It was plastered in place.

It hurt to breathe. I pried my eyes open and saw the flashing lights. What had happened to my windshield? Was that a tree branch on my dashboard, and what was with the red paint coating the jagged pieces on the passenger-side window?

“Hurts,” I choked out.

“I know.” I turned toward the man but couldn’t make out his face. It was blurred … hazy. “I’m going to give you something for the pain, but first, can you tell me your name?”


My name. My name? God, it hurt to think. I shook my head, the idea of having to formulate one single word was too much to bear. I saw a flash of metal to my right and tried to turn my head. They were cutting something; the sound of the metal blades hitting each other tore through my mind. Maddy’s side of the car was dented in, dirt and leaves ground into the thousands of spiderweb cracks that laced the window.

I shivered as the frigid night air hit me. The passenger-side door was gone, two gloved hands tossing it aside in a hasty effort to get inside … to get to Maddy. Her body was slumped forward, resting at an odd angle against the dashboard. Hurried words, none of which I understood, echoed through the car as they gently eased her back against the seat, her head lolling to one side. Somebody reached for her neck and then her wrist before shaking his head and backing out of the car. If I had the strength to speak, I would’ve yelled at them to leave her be, to let her stay in the safe confines of the car, not to move her into the dark, wet night.

Maddy? I whispered in my mind. Her eyes were open and she was staring at me. Why didn’t she blink? Why didn’t she move?

She didn’t fight, didn’t cry out in pain when they pulled her out of her seat. She lay there boneless in their arms, a spot of wetness rolling off her cheek. I followed the drop of water to the floor and saw one of my shoes lying on the dirty floor mat by my phone. Where was the other?

“Stay with me,” the man said. “Can you tell me your name?”

I didn’t care about my name. I wanted to know where they were taking Maddy and why she looked so quiet and cold. I heard the man talking to me, demanding that I answer him. I blocked him out, focusing my energy on calling my sister back.

“Maddy,” I whispered, hoping she’d hear me. Hoping she’d acknowledge me, say something, anything.

“There you go. Good. Now, do you know where you are?”

I tried to shake my head, but it hurt to move. “No,” I managed to whisper.

“That’s okay,” he said. “We’re going to move you now. You’re going to be fine.”

“Maddy,” I repeated as his hands reached out for me. I didn’t fight it this time. I didn’t struggle to stay there despite his demands. I simply let go.





6

It hurt. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. It hurt to feel, but I did it anyway. I struggled for a sense of place, of time, but there were no familiar voices, only noise. Constant machinelike thrumming.

I was no longer cold. In fact, I was hot. Sweltering hot. Through my confusion, I could hear a beeping. I homed in on that rhythmic sound until I could count in time with the beats.