Beautifully Damaged

13. Lies

Was it really so alien, that feeling? It was to me, but it was so comforting. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

“I promise to answer every call you give me from now on.” I swore, unable to keep the smile off of my face.

“How about you promise me something else?” Jenna said suddenly, apparently seizing the moment.

Reluctantly, I answered, “I guess I can.”

“You’re so coming with me to this party, out of town.” She squealed, though it was a little more toned down.

The word party did not bring up great images for me. Last time, I was pretty sure that I did get strangled.

“I don’t know Jenna, parties are really not my thing.”

I expected her to protest, to guilt me into it, but she didn’t push the subject any further. She was so unlike Morgan.

“If you won’t do that, you’ll do something else with me, for definite?”

That refreshing smile crept onto my face once more, “Definitely.”

“Well, I’m going to go convince my sister to take me to that party, see you later!” Jenna hung up.

Though she was gone, I could still feel her energy racing through my veins. It was insane.

I felt the need to call Alex, and apologize for my strange behavior this morning, but was hesitant to do so. Perhaps it was better that I just leave it until Monday at school.

Even so, I couldn’t just sit around for the rest of the day.

I sat down at my desk and powered up my laptop. After it had turned on I logged in and started my search.

The search for Blaise Anthony.

***

Needless to say, after hours of searching, I came up with nothing but random Facebook profiles that had nothing to do with me and some business profiles.

In the back of my head, I had known that it wouldn’t be that easy. Finding even family trees took longer than that. I had just hoped that maybe I’d find something. Strangely enough, I had also hoped to find nothing.

It may not have made any sense, even to me, but it was a fact.

I sat back in my chair, staring through strained eyes onto the endless opened web pages, each even less helpful than the last.

Honestly, what else could I do when I knew nothing about myself? It was a pointless search, a fool’s game. I felt like the whole world knew who I was, everyone around me, but I was the last to be clued in on the big joke.

Or was I just looking to far into it?

Sighing, I shut the laptop and closed my eyes. After slowing my whirring thoughts, I opened my eyes.

A small slip of white paper sat on the top of my computer, scrawled on in gorgeous, simple cursive.

Startled, I whipped my head around, looking for someone in my apartment, though I knew it was futile.

With quivering hands I picked up the note and read the script.

Don’t try so hard to figure it out. It’s better left alone.

My breath caught in my throat. The handwriting was the same as the other notes, but I hadn’t seen these in a long time. How did this person know what I was doing, thinking? Was this related to the voices in my head? It had to be related to the fact that I couldn’t remember anything.