Page 65 of Forget Me Not
She turned around to find Lily standing in the entrance of the closet, her expression twisted in genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” Marcia lied, turning back around as her mind continued to spin. In truth, it was the picture of Annie that had started all this: plucking it from the fridge that day and glancing at the girl with another man by her side, a look of love scribbled all over his face. It made Marcia realize that Mitchell had never looked at her that way; whatever he felt for her, it wasn’tthat. Instead, he looked at her the way a wolf looks at a flock of lost sheep, zeroing in on the runt of them all before separating it slowly from the rest of the herd.
“I don’t believe you.”
Marcia ignored her, kept opening drawers as she thought back to that day in Annie’s kitchen. How Lily had grabbed the picture from between her slick fingers before they both went back to the Farm. Lily had brought it with them, eager to show Mitchell what she had found—but then, Marcia took it, slipping it into the spine of her diary so she could glance at it whenever she was alone. She didn’t know what it was about the picture that gave her such a small semblance of hope. Maybe it was how Annie looked so healthy, so strong, all that new weight back on her body that wasn’t there just a few months before. Maybe it was the fact that she had a homeof her own—arealhome, not a mattress in a barn or a camper she shared with so many others—and that served as a quiet reminder that perhaps one day, Marcia could still have those things, too.
She felt Lily slide up beside her just as she opened the very last drawer—and then she froze, a knot in her throat when she saw what was there.
It was a handgun, shiny black metal resting on top of a few folded-up shirts.
She reached out to touch it, the air between them silent and still as Marcia’s fingers lingered a foot from the trigger, this simple escape so close within reach.
“Marcia…”
She dropped her hand, suddenly terrified of the dark thoughts that had seeped their way in. Then she dug into her pocket, fingers brushing against the blue strip. She wasn’t yet sure if she wanted Lily to know—but at the same time, she didn’t know what else to do. If her math was correct, she should be about four months along. Soon, it would be obvious, and by the end of the summer, a baby would be here… but Mitchell didn’t believe in doctors, in hospitals. They barely had enough food to survive. Some mornings, she’d wake up in the barn with little red welts peppering her ankles, the sting of fleabites that itched so bad she’d feel the skin rip beneath her nails as she scratched. It was no place to live, let alone raise a child, so she pulled it out quickly, handing the test over before she could change her mind.
Lily looked down in silence, an inscrutable expression emerging on her face.
“Is this—?”
Marcia nodded, guilt and shame creeping into her cheeks.
“You have to help me,” she whispered. “I have to leave.”
The two girls stayed silent, both of them staring at the strip in her hand, until a new voice cut through the quiet.
“Who the fuck are you?”
They whipped around fast, startled to see a woman standing a few feet away. She was small and slight, brown hair slicked back in a tight bun.
“What are you doing in my house?”
Marcia stared straight ahead, the realization of what was happening dawning on her like the slow parting of clouds. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, her own problems, that she hadn’t even heard the door open downstairs.
She hadn’t registered the sound of footsteps as they ascended the staircase, made their way into the bedroom from down the long hall.
“We were just leaving,” Marcia said, holding up her hands as if in surrender. Then she watched as the woman blinked, eyes widening as she stared at them both.
“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You’re Marcia Rayburn.”
Marcia turned to the side, wondering how the woman could possibly know who she was, though Lily’s expression was just as vacant. Her mouth cut into a thin, straight line.
“You’re missing,” the woman continued, taking a step closer. “Your parents are looking for you.”
She didn’t want to react at the mention of her parents, though she could already feel the sharp sting of tears. That word,missing,like a knife through the heart. She had tried not to think about them over these last few months, but they often weaseled their way into her mind uninvited whenever she found herself wondering what they would do if she ever went back.
She imagined the flick of her father’s eyes as he opened the door, his gaze trailing down the length of her stomach as he muttered those words—Neither can filthiness or anything which is unclean be received into the kingdom of God—before turning around and closing it again.
“Your picture was in the paper a few weeks ago.”
Marcia blinked, watching as the woman gestured to a stack of newspapers on the top of a chair. Then she took a tentative step toward them before reaching out, shuffling through a few sections and holding out a page from the back.
“They miss you.”
Marcia looked down, the image on the front of her and her family. The headline shrieking at her from the top of the page.
DRAPER, SOUTH CAROLINA, TEEN GOES MISSING
