“Who?” The woman looks genuinely confused, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Shelby,” I say louder, she must have not heard me clearly.
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Is she one of our artists?”
“Oh…ah, maybe… maybe I’m at the wrong gallery, I’m sorry,” I say embarrassed, before turning on my heels.
“This is the only gallery in town, miss.”
I freeze with my hand hovering inches away from the doorknob. My mind goes blank and then this feeling of utter dread creeps its way up my spine and settles into the base of my skull.
Nothing makes sense, everything I thought I knew is wrong. My life built with building blocks of lies and deceit and like a Jenga tower someone pulled the one piece that has it all crashing down.
I feel like I’m trapped in this moment, my mind frozen in time. My thoughts hovering somewhere in between disbelief and unbelievable despair.
“Are you okay, miss?”
When I shake out of the memory, I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing there, but it feels like an eternity. I don’t know why I’m so surprised by this lie. I already knew she was lying to me about numerous things, so why does this feel even worse?
“Harlow? What’s wrong?” Banks comes out of nowhere, his hand coming to rest on my lower back.
“She never worked here,” I answer. “I just remembered it. She lied to me about this too.”
“I’m sorry… come on, let’s get you home,” Banks coaxes, his voice laced with concern. I let him lead me down the sidewalk, my mind still reeling from the recovered memory.
For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that there is more… more to this story… more I need to remember. It isn’t until we are about to cross the road that it hits me. The most important memory of all. The final piece to the puzzle…
I look up, the scenery changing around me, the ground beneath me suddenly seems different. Sounds piercing through the fog surrounding my brain. Someone is screaming, but I can’t make out what is being said. Then something catches my eye. I look up to see two bright lights heading straight for me. But I’m not fast enough, there is no time.
I watch in shock as the engine revs up, the car coming at me, and all I can do is stand there like a deer caught in the headlights… literally.
There is a moment, just before the impact, where the headlights are so close that they don’t blind me, I can look above them, see through the windshield and get a look at the person who is trying to kill me.
It’s only for a split second that I see her eyes; cold and detached, full of hate, and I don’t understand why? Why does she hate me that much? Why would Shelby try to kill me?
“Harlow?” Banks is suddenly right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently as if he is trying to wake me up from some nightmare. But I’m not asleep, this is not a dream, this is reality. Shelby, the person I thought of as my best friend my entire life, hates me, hates me so much that she wants me dead. My chest heaves, and it feels like a piece of my heart is breaking off.
Why? Why would she want me dead? Did I do something that I don’t remember?
“Harlow? Harlow! You’re freaking me out. Please tell me what’s wrong,” Banks questions frantically. I can see him, but not really. It’s like I’m lost in my thoughts, trying to thread them back together.
“It was Shelby… I… I remember. Shelby was the one that tried to kill me. She hit me with the car on purpose. I saw her, it was her,” I continue rambling on more to myself as Banks leads me to the car, halfway carrying me at one point.
He helps me into the back seat and buckles me up. Oliver and Sullivan twist around in the front seat their faces conveying a similar concern to Banks.
“What happened?” Oliver asks, but I can’t say the words out loud again, they hurt too much.
“Just find a hotel. I’ll explain everything there. We need to take care of Harlow first. She’s remembering things,” Banks explains, and Oliver takes that as his cue to drive off, pulling into city traffic with ease, leaving the gallery and the memories behind us, but not forgotten. Why? Why would she do that?
Banks slides across the bench seat and closer to me until his body is practically against mine, his body heat seeps into every pore of my body, soothing me in an instant like a blanket wrapping around me on a cold winter night.
Unable to resist, I turn to him, seeking the comfort he gives, burying my face into his chest. Without realizing it, I start to sob, letting all the anger, frustration, confusion, and hurt out. The tears fall from my eyes rapidly, and I don’t even attempt to wipe them away.