The Lies He Told | PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER ROMANCE |

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

A salty breeze tousled my hair as I ascended the creaky wooden steps to Royce's beach house, the sound of waves smashing against the shore growing increasingly louder.

After his night shift, I figured he would take a siesta, but my rapping on the weathered door reverberated with vast emptiness. Not even a rustle from Chase, the Viking roommate.

Bugger this. I bailed on the beach house and half-slid, half-stumbled down to the sand to Connie and Drew's place next door—another unanswered knock. I was going to go full-on postal on the seashell wind chimes in a minute.

My eyes, shielded by oversized sunglasses, surveyed the glittering shoreline and the undulating waves, wondering if the foursome were engaged in a late-day surfing session.

While a few surfers were present, riding on the crest of ocean swells, a further observation confirmed the presence of locals clad in wetsuits, but I am ninety-nine percent sure that none of them was my friends.

Okay, "friends" might be a strong statement. Campfire buddies with a side of social awkwardness? That's closer but not entirely accurate.

Either way, we were bound together by some unknown force, whether they embraced or resented it. I knew that only through them could I unlock the door to my forgotten memories, deep within the recesses of my mind. In this strange, uncertain journey, they were my guides, leading me towards a truth that I had been chasing for so long.

As I stood at the crossroads, the temptation to abandon the impromptu trip to Royce's beach house and retreat to the familiar comfort of the cliff house, with its cosy fireplace and breathtaking ocean view, was all-consuming. But taking the easy path would offer no true satisfaction. I had already come so far on this journey, and turning back now would be a disservice to myself.

The constant obfuscation and deluge of misinformation had become insufferable. I am not a mere subject for experimentation or a pawn in everybody's games. I have no doubt that Royce was responsible for the account defending me against online harassment, and I am not willing to consider any alternative explanations. Now, I need clarification on his motives.

This is my existence at stake. I have a fundamental right to know the truth about the circumstances prior to the accident and the subsequent loss of my memories. Anything less would be a grave injustice.

Perhaps Royce's absence from the Beach House was a blessing in disguise. I could save our conversation about Ferdinand for another time. Right now, with him removed from the equation, I had an opportunity to find out why the man was contradictory, hating on me in one breath and then defending me in another. I can finally undercover the underlying justifications behind these inconsistencies.

The truth lies beyond the man's door.

Carefully scanning the surroundings for prying eyes, I retraced my steps along the gritty shoreline, every grain of sand grinding beneath the weight of my feet. I approached the hidden path behind the old beach house, the tightly-packed foliage overtaking the once clear-cut trail, lending an appearance of abandonment. It was the perfect spot to evade unwanted attention.

Holding my breath for absolute stillness, I snuck towards the rear of the house, batting away prickly thickets and unruly brambles to prevent any unwanted surprises. The last thing I needed was creepy crawlies in my hair—spiders, those eight-legged horrors, are not my favourite companions.

In the hopeful event that Royce or Chase had left the back door unlocked, I could slip inside the house and continue my search for answers. They were waiting for me within those walls. I just needed to scour every inch until I found them.

Royce's sleek black truck was parked in its usual spot in the crowded car park. Its glossy finish reflected the bright sunlight, making it seem even more formidable. His motorcycle was notably absent, indicating that he was out. Good. I had more time to snoop around without getting caught in the man's headlights.