p u r i t y

c h a p t e r 3

"What the hell?"

"Elodie."

"I don't even know where to start! Everyone was worried sick about you until they eventually gave up. Don't you care about that?! Don't you care that we thought you were dead? It was hell! What did you expect?! We didn't know you'd just come prancing in like you wanted everyone to act like you just returned from some fabulous vacation! 'I missed you'? That's it?! How about 'I'm gonna tell you where I was for the past year' or 'I'm sorry I put you through such a hard time' or even a 'Hey, how are you?'?!"

The weight that was stuck on my chest lifted a tiny bit. I let out a colossal sigh, and placed my hands on my hips.

"How are you?"

How dare she!

"Glad you're not dead. But now I just wanna shoot you."

"I'm sorry. I know you're mad..."

"Mad?!"

I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to punch her in the face but then I wanted to hug her some more. I was just relieved she was here.

"I'm not mad," I said, gradually calming down. I felt the anger ease and change into happiness. I guess I was experiencing a hurricane of emotions, due to such an unexpected event.

"You're what's important. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Rose said, with genuine truth in her voice. "I'm fine."

"Rose, what the hell happened to you?"

She instantly looked nervous. Lowering herself onto the sofa, she picked up a Bourbon from the plate and began picking it apart. She used to do that when she was uncomfortable - fidget with her fingers or whatever she held in her hands.

"Don't you dare clam up," I raised my voice a little, letting her know I was dead serious.

"Please, I don't wanna talk about it."

"To anyone?"

"No. I lied to my parents, I told them I went hiking too far and got lost, and found some old lady's house where I got taken in."

"What else did you tell them?"

"I said she pretended not to have a phone and that's why I never got in touch with them. I told them that she was aggressive and abusive and messed up, that she dyed my hair, and that I was her hostage. I said that when I escaped, I ripped my clothes and cut myself on her glass windows, and then fell down a ditch and lost my shoes and that I was down there for about an hour before I plucked up enough strength to pull myself out."

"And, what, that's not true? They believed that story?"

"I was convincing enough."

"Then what actually happened?"

By the time she resumed talking, I saw a tear begging to drip down in the corner of her eye, "I don't know."

I frowned. Was she confused? It wasn't possible for someone to just completely forget an enormous amount of time. Not without a cause anyway. What if someone hit her and gave her amnesia?

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know what I'm sure of, except that I feel and look like a completely different person."

"Maybe you should see a doctor, or a therapist?"

"I've booked sessions with Dr Hutson, twice a week."

That was a start.

"Has anyone else tried to see you? What about Will?"

"How should I know?" She said it like she didn't have feelings for him, let alone a major fling with him just before she went missing.

"Well, are you coming to school tomorrow?"

"Not until next week, at least."

A picture frame resting atop a CD rack in the corner caught my eye. It was of Rose and her parents at the beach, and if I'm correct, I was the one who took it. I remembered that memory like it was the only one in my brain.

I adored the idea of the beach. The way the burning sand got tangled in between my toes; the way the waves collided with one another like they never wanted to let go; the way the salty breeze kept kissing my tongue and hair. The smell of the sweet ocean was relaxingly calm, and the water felt luscious when it creeped up onto my feet.

I would do whatever it took to rewind to when that picture was taken. Before Rose disappeared, before the entire world invaded into her life.

It was puzzling how she didn't remember what happened to her, but managed to come up with a story to tell everyone. What if it actually did happen, and she's trying to convince herself it didn't? What if it was that horrible?

"What exactly do you remember?"

She took a deep breath before answering, "Waking up in a forest, on the floor." Some tears had escaped from her bloodshot eyes and cascaded down onto her cheeks. "I was in the middle of nowhere. I'd never felt that lonely or scared in my life. I didn't know how I got there, or if I was ever going to find my way out. It was cold and dark and my fingers were numb. There were cuts and bruises down my legs and arms and I didn't know how I got them, or how I lost my shoes or how I ripped my dress. Whether someone tore it intentionally or if I just caught it on a branch. I felt helpless. That's how I remember feeling. That's what I remember."

I was speechless. I didn't feel one bit of anger anymore - just pity. To even imagine what Rose went through was excruciating.

I sat down next to her and waited, while she cried with her face nestled in my shoulder. Trying to comfort her wasn't going to do a hell of a lot. She had to rest, and relieve herself of the bad feelings that was lingering around her like a separate skin.

"It's gonna be okay," I assured her, "I promise."

When she'd calmed down, I handed her a tissue to wipe her face with, and went to pour her a glass of water. What if she was never fed properly, and that was why she'd lost an awful amount of weight? I didn't want her to feel like she was alone. She clearly felt like she had nobody to talk to, and I didn't know what to do other than support her. What are friends for?