Layla

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say quietly. “Don’t be scared.”

She’s taking in huge gasps of air like there isn’t enough of it in the room. She’s crying again. Every tear that falls down her cheek feels like a knife jamming into my heart.

I may not have the same feelings for her that I used to have, but I still love her. And despite what it might seem like right now, I don’t want any harm to come to her.

There’s such a morbid irony to this moment. Sable caused a lot of grief and pain to Layla’s life. And now, in order to help Sable, Layla is suffering yet again.

It isn’t worth it. No part of me should want or even care to help Sable, but to me, I’m not helping Sable. I’m helping Willow.

None of it makes sense, but it’s like I’m not entirely in control of my choices. I can’t be, or I wouldn’t be making such a shitty one right now.

I crawl onto the bed with Layla and I hold her, because no matter how scared she is right now, I know there’s still a part of her that needs to be comforted. Or maybe it’s just me who needs to comfort her. Either way, I wrap my arms around her, and I hold her through her hysterics. I hold her until the screams and pleas and cries begin to exhaust her, and she’s finally still long enough for me to speak to her without her interrupting me.

“I need to show you something. After I show it to you, you’ll understand why you’re tied to the bed.”

She doesn’t even look at me. She’s still sobbing, but it’s a desperate cry, as if I’ve lost my mind and there’s nothing she can do about it. I open the video on my phone and put it in front of her. She jerks her eyes away in defiance.

I hit play on the video, and she doesn’t look down at the screen. I make sure the volume is all the way up so she can hear my words through her tears. She’s staring up at the ceiling, and she continues to do so until she hears herself speak.

When she hears her own voice utter the name Willow, her eyes fall to my screen. She witnesses a memory of herself she can’t remember, and she watches in silent horror.

And then she screams. It’s a scream like nothing I’ve ever heard.

The sound of it rips my heart in half.CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

After I played the video, Layla was terrified and confused and became even more combative toward me. It’s been a day and a half since I showed her the video, and she’s still upstairs screaming. Her voice is hoarse now. She’ll go through small bursts of hysterics, then she’ll be angry, then she’s too exhausted to feel anything at all. Every hour, she moves through the entire spectrum of emotions.

Willow took over her body long enough to make sure Layla was getting food, but we aren’t sure when the man is going to show up. He indicated he was on his way, but from where? It’s almost dark out now, and I’ve received no messages from him since the one he sent yesterday. Every minute that passes is another minute I feel terrible for torturing Layla the way that I am.

I walk upstairs to go keep her company. I’ve been sitting with her periodically, trying to reassure her. I feel like if she can see that I’m calm, then maybe it’ll help her to not feel so afraid. When I showed her the video yesterday, she just kept saying, “That’s not me, that’s not me, that’s not me.”

I didn’t want to put her through more agony, so I didn’t force her to watch it again. It took me days to become open to the possibility of Willow. I can’t expect Layla to accept it immediately, especially while being tied to a bed and held against her will.

When I open the door, she stops yelling. She keeps her eyes trained on me as I walk to the bed. She flinches as if I’m going to do something to her. I sit down in the chair next to the bed and brush the hair from her eyes. “I am not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”

Her eyes are swollen from the toll the crying has taken on her. “If that’s true, then let’s leave,” she pleads.

“We will.”

“When?”

“Willow doesn’t want us to leave until I help her talk to a guy about her situation. I’m hoping he’ll be here tonight.”

“Willow wants to talk to him?”

I nod.

Layla laughs, but it’s kind of a frightening sound considering the situation. “Willow,” she whispers. “Willow. I called myself Willow in that video.” She cuts her eyes to mine. “Did you drug me?”