I realize Mom was right. It’s not like I’m helping Zara or Kane by being here. Now’s the time to enlist, while Zara can improve. Maybe later we can get back together. Lots of men in the military have wives and kids. Maybe it could work for us too.
Since Misty’s disappearance, our relationship didn’t stand a chance. Instead, Zara and I are prisoners of war, caught in the crossfire. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting her when I break up with her. But she needs help. And even though I’ve tried, I realize now I’m not enough. Even if it is for Zara’s well-being, I’ll still hate myself for ending it.
Seven
Ghost Inside My Head
Zara
Age: Twenty-eight
Nine years later
Present
Misty is sittingon the saddle of a unicorn in front of me, laughing as her long blonde hair wisps in the breeze. The carousel rotates to the sound of carnival music. It’s nighttime, and it’s lit up in a galaxy of colors and glass mirrors.
All I see are her beautiful blue eyes shining at me with that infectious smile. I smile back at her because it’s impossible not to.
She looks at me with warmth in her eyes. “I miss you,” she says, but the music is so loud I can barely hear her.
My brows furrow in confusion, and just when I’m about to reply, the carousel stops and I’m jolted forward.
I peer at where Misty was sitting, but she’s no longer there. “Misty,” I call out, but all I hear is silence. Stepping around the unicorns, horses, and carts, I search for her face, but I can’t find her anywhere.
My body jerks and I wake up, blinking, trying to see where I am. My eyes adjust to the darkness. The harsh reality hits me: I’ve been dreaming. I sit up in bed, my shoulders sag, and I lift my legs to my chest as I hug myself while tears stream down my face.
I clasp the chain around my neck and hold on to it. It makes me feel close to her. The best friend charm Misty gave me when we were young is now one of my most cherished possessions.
It won’t be long until it’s the tenth anniversary of the day she went missing. Every day she’s gone hurts, but every year feels like a slice of pain through my heart. She’s like a ghost inside my head, and I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse because I see her face and hear her voice in my dreams.
I don’t always dream of Misty. Sometimes I dream of Knox, the boy who consumed my mind, body, and soul. I believe at the time he loved me, as he always showed me how much I meant to him.
One day, he decided to join the military. I gather he didn’t want me anymore, and as much as it hurt, I understood. I wasn’t the same girl after Misty left, but it did not stop the excruciating pain of his absence. My soul yearns for him, every second of every day.
Occasionally, he doesn’t seem so absent, like I could reach out and touch him. It’s times like that I worry I might be losing my mind. I believe both were my soul mates, Misty as my sister and best friend, and Knox as my boyfriend. I know I won’t find that with anyone else again.
I look at the window beside my bed. I lean forward and move the curtains aside to look at the night sky. It’s a full moon and the stars are bright. I wonder what Misty and Knox are doing right now. Do they think of me like I think of them?
When they left, they cut pieces out of my soul. Those pieces have left gaping holes that have never healed. It makes me question whether I meant as much to them as they did to me, since it was so easy for them to leave. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck inside my own head, with each thought and memory piercing my heart like shards of glass.
An alarm wakesme from my sleep. It’s time to go to work at the women’s shelter. When I get out of the shower, I look in the mirror. It’s as if it’s someone else’s reflection. Cold brown eyes with dark circles beneath, which contrast with my skin, stare back at me.
I apply makeup before making my way to the kitchen. I shuffle to the fridge and grab an energy drink before I sit at the counter. The can hisses when I open it, and I take a sip, willing the cold, sweet liquid to give me the buzz I need to get through the day.
My phone rings, vibrating in my pocket. I pull the phone out to see a private number calling.
My body tenses as I answer. “Hello.”
“Hi, Zara. It’s Mae. Just giving you the heads-up. We had nine new people last night.”
“Nine,” I repeat. The center is well and truly at full capacity.
“Yes, one woman arrived with five children. The youngest is an infant, so the baby will sleep with her. The other is a young mother with two young children.”
“What condition are they in?”
“Mostly scared. They’re having breakfast now. After they finish, I’ll talk to the women about the resources we have available for them.”
