Page 86 of Wildling

She leans forward and frowns. “Are you talking about the shed?”

As I give a slow nod, she adjusts herself and straightens her back. “We’ve gone over this, you need to let it go.”

My stomach twists. “I know…but this memory is different.”

She bites her lip, careful not to tell me I’m wrong, but letting me figure it out on my own. “Hallucinations are memories, and memories are memories, but both aren’t real. Every memory, even false memories, are reconstructive. They are fabrications and figments that can be changed to suit a purpose until you believe in a different truth. You remember Nick being in your kitchen, right? But you saw with your own eyes that it never happened. Do you still recall that hallucination?”

So vividly even now it makes my stomach flutter. “Yeah.”

Regina blinks a few times. “Emotion fills our memory gaps. We can feel pain, even in our memories. Emotions drive our humanity.”

I shudder out a breath. “This wasn’t emotional, this was physical. I hung from that shed for longer than I realize. It’s what made me turn my mind off. It was the catalyst that broke me. “What if…” I stop myself from going there. I’m so close to freedom I can taste it. Everything makes logical sense.

Don’t go here, Layla. It will make me sound crazy.

“Say it,” Regina presses. “Don’t hold back on me now.”

I blink my eyes toward her. “What if the shed was real? What if it wasn’t a memory or a hallucination? What if it was Frank?”

She tilts her head and scrunches her brows together. “What makes you believe this?”

I sniffle and wipe my hand over sweat that forms on my brow. I’ve had this theory for months, but I’ve been too afraid to fully express it until now. “Frank is the only other person who knew about the bunker. What if he knew I was there, or worse, what if he lured me there himself?”

She stops to consider. “Why would Frank do that? And how would he lure you there?”

My eyes flicker up to her, tears swarming inside them. “A ribbon…” My hand flies to my mouth as the truth dawns on me. “Nick used to leave me ribbons to help me find my way around the forest near the cabin. Whenever I saw a white ribbon, I knew I was close to home. Frank knew if I saw a white ribbon, that’s where I would go. He was leaving them for me to find. I believed Nick was alive, and he was trying to communicate with me, so I went to see him, and Frank locked me in the bunker.”

He was the entity. He strung me up in the shed. My mind filled in the rest. My mind filled in the Archer. Because that’s who the villain was in my head.

She takes a deep swallow, the blood draining from her face as she works through this. “I won’t deny he had a good motive, and logistically this all makes sense. This changes everything, Layla.”

A chill rolls through my bones as the final missing pieces fit together. “He taught Nick everything he knew about survival, and I often thought he was stronger than he seemed. He kept me in that shed much longer than I recall, and that’s what ended up fracturing me.”

“Layla…I’m at a loss for words.”

“I’ll never truly know, will I?” I ask, interrupting her.

She chews on her pen, as goose bumps form on her flesh. “I’ve seen a man in town who matches Frank’s description. I never thought much of him and never would have thought that was Frank Cross. But based on your descriptions in therapy…good god. I might be sick.”

My lips part as the air pulls out of my lungs. “I saw him too. He was at the coffee shop when I was with Keely and Gabriella. He didn’t look the way I remembered him. He was walking, he could see. It was the same person, but he was different.” The fear I had at that moment should have triggered me. I should have known. “He had a motive,” I say.

I was strung up and tortured; it’s the only explanation that makes sense for my captivity, which was orchestrated by Frank.

She shifts uncomfortably as the final pieces form together. “He lost everyone he loved.”

In his descent into insanity, he drove me there too. He knows the truth about everything.

“What if he tries to hurt me again?” I ask, my hands shaking as I stare out at the edge of the forest. Every memory of the past six months, now in question. Were those red dots real? The feeling of being followed and watched. Was he out there lurking this entire time?

The cycle will never end.

She turns to face me. “Don’t worry about anything. I promised your mom I’d look after you. I’m going to call Sarah Crawley. We’ll deal with him. Frank won’t survive the week.”