My father isn’t here. He was never here. This has to be a hallucination. Blood is trickling down a wound in his abdomen, his arms are scratched and bruised. His face is so swollen I can hardly recognize him.

  Barely able to shake my head, I gasp in horror.

  This isn’t possible. I need to run. I need to escape this nightmare. This can’t be real.

  Dad. I search the room for him. My eyes try so hard to focus on details. “No,” is all I can manage.

  My father isn’t here. He never was. All this time I’d been led to believe he was in the chair behind me. All this time I assumed we were being killed together.

  This is not right. This person is the enemy. This person did this to me. If not him, who else could?

  His arms go up as he approaches. “Soph,” his words gentle like how I remember them.

  “No!” I repeat, cautiously struggling to move backward.

  He incessantly nears. “Don’t be afraid of me.” His statement almost makes me laugh. I’m terrified of him.

  My head cooperates and shakes with trepidation.

  “Please, you have to let me help you. My God, what did he do to you?”

  He? Who the hell is he trying to pin this on?

  “Stay away!” I stammer. The energy it takes to get those two words out depletes me.

  He kneels down in front of my lethargic body, taking me in from top to bottom. The knife he once had in his hand is gone. He’s holding a bottle of water, bringing it close to my mouth. “You have to drink. We need to get you help and the only way for me to do that is for you to be able to stand.”

  I’m frantic for water. I’m dying without it. The dry pain twists in my throat as my eyes narrow in on the small bottle of liquid. I don’t care if he’s the enemy. I need to drink this.

  He props my head and scoots in to hold me up, then slowly allows me to take sips of the room temperature drink. At first it hurts. Swallowing is almost unfathomable. My eyes seep with fluid as I wince with discomfort. Knowing I need more, I attempt to reach out, but fail when my arms won’t lift.

  I’m crying because I honestly have no idea what’s happening. Why is Garver helping me? Does he inhibit multiple personalities? Does he really think he’d never hurt me?

  No. It makes no sense. There was a third person here. Garver was clearly beaten and strapped to the chair like me. My eyes plead with him to help me understand, but he offers nothing. Instead his focus remains on me taking small sips of water.

  “Soph, I don’t have my phone. He took it. We need to get you to a hospital. You’ve been missing for three days.”

  “Three?” I ask. “My dad?”

  “I don’t know. We called the police after you didn’t return from the bowling alley. We didn’t really know where to look. They questioned me for hours. Your dad threatened my life, so I had nowhere else to go. Frank dropped me off at work and the next thing I know I’m waking up in the back of a pick-up truck. My head was covered and I was restrained.”

  My head shakes again. This time I’m able to speak a few more words. “Liar. I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear it’s not me, Soph. It’s never been me. I wouldn’t do that to you, to anyone. Babe, I love you. You have to believe me.”

  How am I supposed to believe him? “Who else could have brought me here?”

  He closes his own eyes and shakes his head. “There’s only one other person who knows about this place besides my mom.”

  “Who?” I have to know.

  “Garreth.”

  The name rings a bell. It’s the name his mother kept repeating. It’s the name he refused to explain when we visited the hospital. She’d gone ballistic like she was trying to warn us. Oh, God, had she been trying to warn us?

  Garver continues. The look on his face is tormented by what he reveals. “He’s my brother, Soph.”

  My frozen stare exposes my shock. I’m flabbergasted as I comprehend it all. “Your brother?”

  He nods. “Half-brother. I never knew he existed until a couple years ago. He’s sick, Soph. He’s not a good person. He’s been locked up for the last several years. I didn’t even know he’d been released. I was a minor when he was incarcerated, so the notification didn’t apply to me. I never thought he’d come here. He never lived here. What’s done is done. I didn’t think I’d ever see him, I swear.”

  “I don’t understand,” I get out before a major coughing fit hits me. Garver leans in to check on me and I cough a spritz of blood across his face. He doesn’t bother wiping it off before tending to me.

  “We have to get out of here. You need to see a doctor.” He looks over my body. “Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you?”

  I’m still reeling in the fact that he had a brother he never told me about.

  “Sophie, listen to me. Did he touch you sexually? Did he hurt you?”

  My focus is on Garver. I peer deeply into his concerned glare. This isn’t someone who dragged me through the woods, kicked me around and then tied me up and left me to die. This isn’t someone who would gain anything by killing me. The person in front of me, tending to my wounds, caring for me, worrying about me, this person loves me. At least, that’s what my heart is telling me to believe.

  “He didn’t. No sex.” I can’t explain the rest.

  He sits me up more and strokes my face. “I don’t know where he is, or if he’s coming back, but he’s still out there and your dad is in danger. They’ve arranged a search party, I know that much. If we can get to the police before Garreth finds your dad we can end this without anyone getting hurt.”

  He means dying. We can prevent my father from dying. Though, he doesn’t say it that way to keep me from worrying more. Things are becoming clearer as the bottle empties. Garver slides away and comes back with a pack of peanut butter crackers. He tears it open with his teeth and hands me one, actually placing it in my hand and lifting it to my mouth. “I need you to have enough energy to get out of here. If you can manage to stand, I can carry you on my back until we reach the road. Do you think you can muster the strength?”

  Able to hold the bottle now, I take more aggressive sips, desperate to feel some kind of spark of energy. Nonetheless, it’s not going to happen quickly and we are out of time. “I can try.”

  Garver holds out his hand, offering something small to earn my trust. The sincerity in his eyes confirms he won’t hurt me. Could he really be here to save me? How else can I explain the other person, and not recognizing his voice? How would Garver have been able to orchestrate this whole ordeal alone?

  He couldn’t.

  Another one of my senses spring to life. “Garver, what’s that smell?”

  “Gasoline. He doused me in it, threatening to burn me alive if I didn’t stay quiet. In all honesty, I think he plans on coming back in a couple days and burning this place down with us still in it. Let’s not find out if it’s true.”

  “Your brother?” I have to question again.

  “Soph, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t really know him. He wasn’t a part of my life. It’s just more family secrets I don’t have time to explain. Once you’re safe, I’ll tell you, and the police and your dad. We need to get the hell out of here and far enough away where he can’t find us.”

  I nod. Garver is scared. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this is a look he’s never displayed. Finally taking his hand, he pulls me to a standing position. I wish I could say it was easy for me to get my bearings, but I feel disconnected. My legs give way and I’m heading back down to the floor. Garver scoops me up and carries me over to where I’m sort of leaning on the small table. He gets down in front of me and waits for me to fall onto his back. Once my arms are around his neck he stands and folds my legs around his waist.

  “The door is locked,” I remember.

  “Don’t worry. This shack is falling apart.” Sure enough, he walks over to the door and gives it a swift kick. Instead of it coming open where it’s locked, it simply falls off the hinges on the opposite side, the only thing keeping it upright is the damn lock. The smell of the forest fills my nostrils as Garver begins leading us through the dark cover of trees. At first he’s quiet, but when a rainstorm begins it disguises our footfalls and allows him to talk as he ambles to safety. “Soph, I know you’ll never forgive me for this, but I will do whatever it takes to fix this. I didn’t know he’d take things this far. I thought he’d left town again. I figured the cops finding his things would scare him off for good.”

  “You lied to us.”

  “I didn’t know it was him at first. I didn’t put two and two together until my mom mentioned his name. She’s never talked about him before, not like that. Something set her off. I think he visited her. She’s only allowed family visitors without contacting the judge, but he’s a Collinswood. He wasn’t here when everything went down. We barely knew he existed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My mother came home from England with a bun in the oven. It wasn’t my father’s child, obviously. She knew her father wouldn’t allow her to live in the family home with an illegitimate child, so she and my grandmother drove to Pennsylvania and stayed with her cousins until she delivered. I don’t know the whole story, because it came from Frank. Garreth was raised by my mom’s older cousins who couldn’t have kids, or just wanted to adopt or something. He didn’t know about my mom and being adopted until he was sixteen and wanted to get a driver’s license. When the birth certificate came into question the shit hit the fan. By that time my grandparents were long gone and my mom and dad had a child of their own. Me. Frank said my dad had to know about Garreth, but he never once mentioned it until the kid showed up wanting to know his mom. Right off the bat he thought he was entitled. Like, he just assumed she’d write him a check for a zillion bucks and welcome him with open arms. Mom wasn’t in her right mind as it is, so him returning just escalated the whole ordeal. When he didn’t get the welcome he expected he left. Like I said, I didn’t really know him.”

  His story connects a lot of dots, but it still doesn’t explain why he’s after me.

  Our trek is rough. Rain falls down making everything Garver steps on slippery. Several times he loses his footing but catches himself before we tumble to the ground. I’m still so weak. Everything feels jumbled and I can’t help but question how we got to this point. Was it all his lies? Could what he’s been telling me really be the way it is?

  I want to trust Garver. I want to trust him because a part of me still loves him, especially after discovering he wasn’t the evil culprit attempting to kill me. The puzzle pieces are coming together, but it’s the big picture I’m not sure I like.

  A secret brother.

  He has a freaking secret evil brother who is trying to murder us.

  Jesus H.

  My mind is mush, but I’m still straight enough to comprehend how screwed up this is. Physically, I’m broken, malnourished, and in need of a serious bath, but mentally I’m becoming more alert by the second. My eyesight still fades in and out, maybe just from the weather and time of night.

  Just when I think we’re going to make it out of the woods without incident, Garver spots a flashlight shining in the distance. My first inkling is that it’s the search party, but when he turns and heads quickly in the opposite direction I wonder if I’m wrong.

  “Where are we going now?” I ask with worry. “Don’t take us back there. Please,” my beg is a whisper.

  “I’m not,” he answers back, sticking us behind a huge tree. He squats so I’m able to slide off without falling on my ass. Once he knows I’m off, he turns and tries to assess my injuries with only the cloud covered moon assisting him. “Stay quiet, Soph. It could be Garreth, and if it is we need him to think we’re long gone.”

  I’m squirming from the damp forest floor, my back using the tree as a lean-to. “What if he sees us?”

  “He won’t. This way takes us further in the woods. It’s like five miles to the closest farm heading this direction. He knows you’re in bad shape and I’ll be heading for the closest home for help. If it’s him, he’ll see the empty shack and panic. It’s too dark for him to waste time searching the woods. He will assume we’re farther, and hopefully it will give us time we need to get you to safety.”

  I want to respond, but instead just nod, hoping he can see me enough to understand.

  Pulling a bottle of water from one of his pockets, he twists the cap and puts it to my lips. “Drink some more. You’re not capable of running, and you won’t be anytime soon, so we just need you alert enough to keep your eyes peeled. I’m going to get us out of this.”

  “I’m scared.” I admit with an added bout of worry. Thankfully, insects hum loud enough that nothing else can be heard over them, including our movements. The flashlight is barely visible as it moves in the distance.

  “I don’t want to die, Garver.” My throat burns with every word.

  His direct gaze is evident. “We are not going to die. If you believe anything, you have to believe that. I am going to fix this, but nothing is more important to me than getting you to safety.” The determination in his dark eyes is visible.

  God, I want to trust that he can help me, I do. I’m just terrified of everything at this point.

  Garver intently watches as the dim light crests over a hill and descends in the opposite direction. The rain picks up as he gets me situated on his back again, this time taking us the long way out of the woods to prevent being caught again.

  My gut tells me he’s just as frightened, though he never gives up.

  By the time we make it to a clearing the sun is peeking through morning haze. An old farmhouse appears across a field. There are no familiar landmarks, and as we near the road I notice it’s covered in dirt instead of asphalt.

  Pain mixed with hunger, combined with dehydration has come full circle again. I don’t think I could stand on my own if I tried. Once we reach the rear of the home Garver sits me down on the hatch to the cellar entrance. He darts up the three concrete steps and bangs on the door like our lives depend on someone answering. It’s not until he’s a few feet away when I see his own injury in the light. He’s still bleeding. His shirt and pants have a trail of crimson covering one side. As he stands waiting, he clenches the spot where he was stabbed and cringes to hold in the spurts of pain. The irrefutable threat of his injury hits him hard, his legs buckle as he collapses to the ground. He manages to knock, but doesn’t attempt to rise.

  A white-haired, feeble elderly woman opens the door wide. She’s using a walker to get around and unable to attend to Garver personally. Turning back, she calls to someone as loud as her exasperated voice allows. “Shelton! Come quick!”

  I’m fading in and out of consciousness again. One second it’s the woman in the doorway and the next Garver is being tended to by a gentleman looking to be in his thirties. He’s wearing camouflage overalls with a sweat covered undershirt beneath. I can only make it out from the moisture building up from under his arms. From afar, I can’t help but wonder if he smells bad. Of all the things to imagine, it’s kind of ridiculous. Just more proof I’m in bad shape.

  Garver points in my direction. “Help her! Please.” His voice is so forced I can hear the pain splitting him from within.

  As the burly guy approaches, he doesn’t get easier to make out. Instead, it’s like a colored shadow falling over me, shielding me from the rising sun. He doesn’t waste time assessing my injuries, but picks me up in his strong arms and carries me into the farmhouse.

  Everything goes black.

  When I come to, I realized I’m casted across a bed on the first floor. The windows are trimmed in lace curtains and the bedding is eyelet, probably homemade. It’s obvious this is his mother’s room, mainly since she wouldn’t be able to climb stairs any longer in her condition. As my doubt about her health persists, she appears in the doorway with her walker. The pockets of her day dress have bottles of water in them and she’s doing her best to inch her way toward me.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” a guy’s voice announces.

  Then I hear muffled voices from far away, perhaps another room. I can make out a few things. That’s where they’ve taken Garver. They know his name. They’re telling him he needs to get to a doctor quickly to stop the bleeding.

  The woman leaves me when the hoods of my eyes fail to stay open. I hear her walker sliding across the wood floor and leaving. The voices eventually fade until the blackness once again takes control.

  I’m barely aware of the paramedics arriving, loading me onto the vehicle and attending to me. It’s kind of like a blurry memory, too foggy to make out details. There’s a pinch to the inside of my arm and I’m immediately cold, shivering. Lights are bright for a second and then dark again. I hear my name being called, but as much as I want to respond nothing comes out.

  The ride to the hospital is grueling. More than anything I needed to know my father is okay. My mind plays tricks on me.

  I’m taken back to the emergency area and placed in a room. Another bag of solution is prepped, but still no word on my father. X-rays are taken. Bloodwork is drawn. I’m given antibiotics through my I.V. and fed a meal consisting of broth, jello, and some kind of juice that tastes too warm to identify.

  Every single person that enters the hospital room is harassed in hopes that someone will give me any details on what the hell is going on with the investigation. Anything at this point. I need my father.

  The nurses check on me frequently throughout the evening, though I’m already feeling more coherent without them telling me my progress.

  When Garver enters the room, my eyes light up with excitement and eagerness. He was being wheeled in by a nurse, and I worried if his injuries had prohibited him from walking. Once she positioned him next to my bed, she locked the wheels and told him she’d return shortly.