Page 54 of Lost Echoes
Slowly, she turns. Her gaze lands on me.
For a moment, there’s nothing. Just silence, disbelief widening her gaze. “Billa?”
The sound of my name in her voice after three years of absence nearly knocks the breath out of me.
My mouth is dry, and my hands shake. But I force the words out. “Hi, Mom.”
Shock ripples across her face. She drops the file, papers scattering like white leaves across the floor. Her hand rises, trembling, as though she wants to reach for me. But she doesn’t.
“I thought…” Her voice breaks. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
The silence between us is unbearable, thick with everything unspoken.
“Then why am I finding you here?”
Her expression falters, and in that moment I see two things at once—the mother I once knew and the stranger standing in this forbidden place. “How did you get here?”
“I work here.” I square my shoulders, feeling a jolt of boldness. “It would appear you do too.”
She flinches.
The words rip out of me before I can stop them. I’m too raw for niceties. “Tell me everything. Now.”
Her hand hovers in the air, then drops to her side. “Billa, please. You have to understand. Everything I did was for you.”
“No.” My voice cracks but doesn’t falter. “You don’t get to play the mother card. Not after I found you here. Not after years of silence. You’re going to tell me why you were in this place back then. What you were doing. What you did to me. And what you know about Kenzi.”
Her eyes flash wide at my half-sister’s name. That one hits.
“You’ve spoken to her.”
My chest heaves, anger surging with fear. “You have no idea. She remembers the basement, the stage, and the performances. She remembers what was done to us. So don’t lie, don’t hide behind pretty words. What part did you play? What part did I play? Tell me!”
Her face crumples. For a moment I think she’ll deny it, but instead she presses her hands to her temples like she can hold in the truth. “I didn’t know at first. Not the whole of it. They called it research, therapies, and grants. I believed them. God help me, I believed them. And I needed the money. You’d think with your father being a Brannon that we’d never want for anything, but that would be a lie.”
“You were down here.” My words are sharp as knives. “You signed things and kept records. You didn’t just believe—you participated. Try and deny it, but I’m putting the pieces together.”
Tears glimmer in her eyes. “When I saw what they were really doing, it was too late. I tried to pull you out. I begged them. They told me you were progressing too well, that you’d been chosen. My little girl…”
“Stop!” My stomach twists, bile rising. “Don’t say it like it was a compliment. You didn’t care about me.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “Billa… you were one of the best.”
The air drains out of me, and my knees nearly give. “Best at what?”
She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t have to because I see the shame and terror in her face.
I stumble back a step, shaking my head. “No, that’s not me. That’s not who I am.”
“You were forced,” she says quickly, desperately. “We all were. You were a child, and they shaped you, scripted you. It wasn’t your fault. You were innocent.”
But the words don’t soothe. They only make the truth press harder against my chest.
Kenzi’s haunted eyes flash in my mind, my own drawings, the whispers of the spool, and the one-eyed teddy bear. So much more than all of that.
My mother looks at me, tears falling freely now. “I didn’t want this for you. But if we don’t end it now—if we don’t finish what the Radleys started—the cycle will never stop.”
Her words land heavy, dangerous, like another script waiting to be followed.
