Page 135 of Beneath the Mountain Sky
Going up the mountain feels different this time.
When Killian and I did it less than a week ago, we had a purpose, but we might as well have been looking for a needle in a fucking haystack the size of Rhode Island.
Now we have focus, a destination, and a glimmer of hope of finding the rest of my memories and whoever the mystery man is who haunts my dreams. Because ever since the hypnosis session, the visions from the last year keep coming in waves, as if Dr. Bird somehow opened a dam that’s now allowing a rush to work its way out.
More nightmares.
More flashes during the day.
This morning, as we gathered with the large group from town to organize and then set out for the river, it felt like all the suffering of the last several weeks, all the turmoil and tears, were designed to bring me to this point.
So many things that were surrounded by darkness are now seeing the light.
Pieces falling into place, helping me create a true picture of what happened.
I did come back to Killian that day because I knew he didn’t mean what he said. That was fear talking, not the man I love. And I was intercepted by someone when the truck broke down. He hit me, took me somewhere, and must have somehow disposed of my truck so no one would be suspicious.
My captor kept me for the past year, somewhere no one would hear me or see me. Somewhere so remote there would never be any hope of anyone stumbling upon us. He must have made me write those letters to Raven. Whoever it is knows McBride Mountain well enough to understand she would miss me, that she would question where I was if she didn’t hear from me regularly with assurances that I was okay.
Those are the things I know.
But what I still don’t get is why it feels like there’s something waiting there for me beyond my still missing memories.
The recurring dream came again last night.
More vivid than before.
That memory of running, of holding something, clutching it to my chest, as I stumbled down that game trail through the woods that rainy night. Cutting my feet. My lungs burning. Thunder rolling and lightning flashing, illuminating my way through the dark forest.
It all feels so important.
Essential.
Just as taking every step up the mountain right now is.
Killian pauses in front of me and glances back, his brow furrowing as he scans me over—like he’s been doing every few minutes since we set out. “Are you all right? We can stop if we need to.”
I shake my head. “No. I want to get to that spot on the river as early as we can today.”
Our hike has already moved slowly enough, far slower than even mine did with Killian when I was still in far more pain physically than I am now.
The addition of some of our friends from town to help with the search meant a delayed start, the sun almost directly overhead by the time we established the plan, reassured we had all the proper supplies, and set out today.
Those who are strong hikers moved ahead to set up a base camp near where they found me in the river, while all the slower hikers—including me now—trail behind to meet up later.
Almost three dozen residents of McBride Mountain banded together.
The sheer number of people willing to help amazes me, as does the level of rage that seems to permeate the air from everyone who now knows what we’re looking for out there.
A monster of a man.
Someone who was willing to kidnap me and hold me against my will. To do things to me I can’t think about without collapsing in on myself again.
Killian stops, despite my objection, waiting for me to catch up to him so he can rake his assessing gaze over me and search for any signs that I need a break.
I reach him and offer what I hope is a reassuring smile.
The minor delay gives Liam and Connor time to reach us, and they take the momentary stop to snag a sip of water. I do the same, trying not to appear winded or give away the fact that I’m exhausted already.
