“There was another sheet of paper in the file that had a list of special rules and regulations the state made my father agree to in order to allow Tobias to stay here while my father was the warden,” I tell him distractedly as I flip to the next page and keep looking down the list. “Stuff like twice as many prison visits from the state to interview guards and other employees to make sure my father wasn’t giving Tobias special treatment and additional reports to fill out that had to be signed by everyone who came in contact with Tobias. I’m assuming the state knew it would only be a matter of time before they shut down the prison and letting Tobias stay here wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.”
Nolan leans close to look over my shoulder and I try not to move away. Now that I’ve decided to forgive him for the time being, I’m right back to being irritated that having him touch me or try to get close to me puts me on edge. I hate it just as much as I love it and I really don’t need this nonsense right now, but I do need the use of his brain since it seems to be in much better working order than mine. The only reason I’m searching through the phone book right now is because of his suggestion.
“All of this is just so weird because in the two years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen your father be anything but nice to you whenever you two were outside together,” Nolan muses quietly, right by my ear. “I just don’t understand why all of a sudden you don’t get along, and he’s acting completely different with you.”
I clench my teeth and try not to rip out a handful of pages from the phone book, crumple them in a wadded-up ball, and shove them right in his mouth.
“We don’t get along because I’ve caught him in lies, and he screamed at me and told me it was my fault my mother killed herself,” I reply in a snippy voice.
Nolan puts his hand on my back and pats me softly, and I force myself not to think about finding the nearest sharp object and chopping off his hand.
“Hey, I’m sorry, don’t be mad. I’m not saying it’s not true. I’m just talking out loud, trying to figure things out,” he apologizes. “I’ll admit I wasn’t sure at first about your theory that everything revolves around the night I found you in the woods, but there has to be a reason it’s one of the only things you still can’t remember and why everything around this place seems to be imploding since that night.”
I nod, dismissing my thoughts of the bloody stump of his hand thumping onto the porch steps—for now.
“When I first woke up, Dr. Beall told me that sometimes our mind puts traumatic events into a secret corner until we’re ready to process them, and I just had to give it time, be patient, and I would eventually remember everything. Considering the things I’ve already remembered and how awful they are, I’m assuming this must be really bad.”
Nolan starts moving his hand in a slow, small circle in the middle of my back, and I try to enjoy it like a regular eighteen-year-old girl would if a cute older boy showed affection and comforted her. It does feel nice physically; it just doesn’t comfort me mentally.
“I hate that everything seems to keep snowballing ever since that night. And I hate myself for being just the tiniest bit happy that the destruction of your life might be the only reason you acknowledged my existence in two years,” he admits.
I stop searching through the phone book to look at him questioningly.
“I thought you said I started acting differently and began talking to you right before that night?”
He shrugs. “You did, but it felt fake for some reason. Nothing at all like it has been the last few weeks. I mean, something about the different way you dressed and the way you wore your hair the first couple of times you spoke to me felt like it actually matched your personality, but I don’t know. It was just weird how it happened so out of the blue, and even though I liked it that you were finally talking to me, it never felt genuine.”
I look back down at the phone book before I start comparing his blue eyes to oceans or the sky or something else that only stupid girls do.
“So what you’re saying is that all it took was a huge, bloody gash in my forehead and a little memory loss to make me a more honest person?” I ask.
“As horrible as that sounds, yes,” Nolan agrees.
I swallow back the need to laugh long and hard. Just moments ago I daydreamed about slicing off his hand, all the while pretending I wasn’t bothered by his touching me. It makes me want to roll my eyes that he’s so clueless.
“I just want to help you get to the bottom of this, so you can stop feeling so angry and finally be able to move on,” he tells me.
If only it were that simple. Poor, clueless Nolan.
“Aha! Found it,” I announce, my finger underneath the name I’ve been searching for. “Strongfield Penitentiary.”
This prison is the fourth one out of five listed on the papers I found in my father’s safe for potential institutions Tobias could be relocated to. Nolan suggested I start calling the prisons to see if he’s currently an inmate at any of them. The first three informed me that they didn’t have an inmate by that name, nor had they ever in the past.