The Lost Girl

  I hope you can understand. I know you worry and that you love me. I worry about you too, and I don’t want to keep hurting you all the time like I’ve been doing. I’m sorry about all the pain I’ve caused you. Please know that I love you more than anything in the world. Thank you for never giving up on me, and for being there for me, always.

  I’ll understand if you get mad at me for what I’m doing right now. You have every right to. I know I have put you through so much pain already, and here I am, doing it again.

  I promise you if I need help, you’ll be the first person I will turn to. If something happens, you’ll be the first to know. And when I’m back on my feet, and truly okay, you’ll be the first I’ll call.

  There is so much I need to tell you, so many things I want to talk about and share with you … and I will tell you everything, I promise. But first I need to find myself again.

  Please, please, don’t be mad. Please, try to understand.

  I’ve never stopped loving you since the first day we met, and I’ll never stop loving even after the day I die. That has been the only certainty in my life and that will never, ever change.

  I will love you always, no matter what.

  Until the end and from the start.

  Yours,

  Joey.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Walking in the Sun

  I was on a ferry that was taking me to a small island a few miles into the Mediterranean Sea.

  Tiffany had told me her family’s villa was at my disposal for as long as I needed it. It was on a small, remote island with only a few local Italian villagers – a very secluded and private place. That was all I wanted: privacy and solitude.

  I grabbed my bags and was preparing to climb off the ferry, my black hoodie hiding my face and earbuds in my ears, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out to check. It was a text message from Tristan.

  I understand.

  Be well. Be safe.

  I’m here if you need me.

  Love you.

  T.

  I smiled softly at the message, feeling as if a heavy load had been taken off my shoulders.

  Obviously, the Worthingtons’ place was the biggest house on the highest part of the island. I didn’t stop to sightsee or even to acknowledge anyone on the way up there. I just wanted to get to the house and lock myself in my room.

  When I got there I didn’t even pause to appreciate the vastness of the house, or admire the huge swimming pool outside, or even the sea view from the balcony. I just wanted to be alone.

  I closed the doors, shut the curtains and slumped down on my bed. And that was where I stayed for the next few days. I turned my phone off, intending to keep it that way, disconnected from the world.

  I mostly slept. My body was accumulating some much needed rest to compensate for all the battles it had been put through.

  I could feel the heavy flow of depression settling in. I cried a lot. I had been holding in these tears for so long, and only now was I able to let them all out. I cried without worrying if anyone could hear me; I cried without feeling guilty that someone might get sad for seeing me sad. I let the tears flow freely. As weird as it might sound, it felt good just to be able to feel sad and nothing more.

  It was like my body needed to get into this state first, before it could get out of it. I cried until there were no more tears left to shed. And when I was done, all that was left was relief.

  One night, I had the strangest dream. I found myself in a field with mist sweeping lazily around me.

  This wasn’t Sky’s home or her desert workplace. There was no scorching sun, moonless night, or silvery sand, only a grassy field with white, wild country flowers blooming everywhere. The silence was eerie, but not threateningly so. And Vigil was standing a few feet away from me.

  “Am I dreaming?” I said, turning to look at him. “This feels like a dream.”

  “Yes, I am in your dream. But I am also very far away. I thought I might try to reach you in here. It is a faster and easier way to connect with you. I have done this many times before – in the first year we met, remember?” he said, walking closer.

  “Oh, yeah. I remember.” I reminisced, chuckling a little. “This is so weird; it feels so real.”

  He frowned, just like Sky used to do whenever I said something she didn’t understand. “This is very real. Just because it is a dream does not make it less real,” he stated. “Are you all right? I can feel the sadness through our bond; your distress has been very intense lately.”

  “W-what do you mean?” I asked, and realization dawned on me when I looked at my wrist and watched the black lines of my tattoo closely, the magical mark that bonded me to Vigil.

  He took my hand lightly, stroking his thumb softly over my tattoo. His touch tingled a little. “I know when you are hurting. This mark binds us. I can sense it, when the feeling is too strong, like it has been for the past few days,” he explained.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I apologized, embarrassed at disturbing him with all my sadness, even if I’d done it unintentionally.

  “The power switch we performed leaves a scar of sorts. Healing the soul is the hardest part. But you are almost there, Joey. I did not doubt for a second that you would get out of this stronger than you ever were before.” A sort of melancholy flickered briefly inside his deep black eyes.

  “You look … different.”

  His eyes seemed different somehow, more grown up. He didn’t look skinny and frail any more; he looked like a man.

  “You look different as well,” he said, staring at me intently. “You have not yet realized how much this has changed you, but you will soon enough.”

  “What do you mean?” I said. “I don’t want any more supernatural surprises, Vigil!”

  He paused and regarded me in silence for a moment, his head tilted while he watched me. “I mean, you will be able to handle your own powers a lot better now. They are stronger than you know, but you can control them, the same way you controlled my powers. The key is the same. You have already learned this lesson.”

  “I don’t want stronger powers. I don’t want any kind of power. I don’t even want to remember the time when I had yours!” I said, recalling all the horrible things I had done when I had all that power, how horrible I had become with it.

  “Too much power in avid hands is the most dangerous thing. The best hands to wield it are the ones who do not wish for it. That is why you have survived this; you walked past its alluring whisperings and conquered them. You have already won this battle, Joe Gray; you do not have to fear the downfall of power any longer,” he said. “You should embrace your own powers, because they are part of you. You can never be fully yourself if you deny who you are.”

  “I just want to forget all this ever happened,” I said.

  “Do not forget your struggle. Do not bury those memories inside. Remember, always. Remember the noise, the whispering, the fire burning inside of you, Gray. Because then you will always remember how you conquered it. And you will not have to fear power ever again. It does not control you. You control yourself,” he said, and extended his hand, as if he was touching something invisible in the air. Little ice crystals formed around his hands and fell softly onto the grass, so beautiful and magical.

  “You have walked through fire, as I have plunged into burning ice. And we remained ourselves, despite it all,” he said, and millions of snowflakes started falling around us, filling up the air. “Remember that, Joe Gray.”

  I reached out, letting a snowflake fall into the palm of my hand. Vigil reached his hand slowly towards mine and when he touched it, I felt a current of energy unleash and the burning heat ignite my veins once again.

  Let it burn.

  I heard his voice inside my head, my eyes never leaving his deep black orbs. He nodded reassuringly, and I let the energy surge through me. Fierce red flames flashed into life, enveloping me whole. Vigil’s eyes sparked brightly with an emotion I couldn’t quite discern as h
e smiled at me.

  Make it stop. His voice once again echoed inside my head.

  We stared at each other unblinkingly, and then it was my turn to nod. The flames subdued and died away, taking all the snowflakes Vigil had created with them. All that was left was a heavy fog and the grass beneath our feet.

  “You are stronger when you remember your weakness. So do not forget, Gray Hood Bearer,” he said. “I have to go now, Joey. I have important things to answer for. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Answer for? Are you in trouble, Vigil?” I asked, worried.

  He smiled softly, moved by my concern. “Yes and no,” was his short reply.

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, the paradoxical answers are really, really annoying,” I chided. “Are you going to be okay with your problem, Vigil?”

  “Do not worry; I’ve got it covered. I am manoeuvering things to my benefit. But I really need to go. Take care of yourself. Until we meet again …” he said, giving me one last bow before disappearing into the fog.

  And then I woke up.

  I blinked a couple of times in the dark room, trying to recall and memorize the conversation I had just had, Vigil’s wise words echoing in my head.

  And then I realized I was done crying. That unbearable sadness no longer ruled me; that crushing weight over my chest had left. Was that what Vigil had meant by being almost there?

  The next day I decided it was time to leave my room. Maria, the Worthingtons’ caretaker, was surprised to see me out and about, and hurriedly bustled around to attend to my every wish. She was a very sweet old lady, with warm, twinkling eyes and a caring, motherly smile. Her Italian accent was thick, ringing vibrantly whenever she tried to say my name: Joanna Grei. It sounded oddly cool, though, so I never really corrected her.

  I went out for short walks around the island almost every day. The view was outstanding from the top of the hill, the sea so bright and clear, sparkling vividly in the sunlight, the same amazing emerald green as Harry’s eyes. Every time I looked at the sea I thought of Harry.

  I tried to avoid people as much as I could while walking along the shoreline, wandering mostly on the deserted parts of the beach. It felt really good just to walk alone, my feet digging into the warm sand, the bright sun caressing my skin with its golden heat, and the rushing sea whooshing soothingly at my side.

  I thought of Tristan constantly during those walks. But those thoughts no longer had that addictive edge to them. I didn’t feel like I couldn’t breathe without him, or that I couldn’t go on if he wasn’t by my side. Something had changed inside me; something about the way I perceived him. It wasn’t need, now; I just missed him – pure missing, without guilt, pain or anguish.

  When I wasn’t walking, I would sit on the beach and just watch the sea. I would sit there for hours and hours without ever getting tired. The sight and sound of the waves dancing endlessly back and forth brought me so much peace, a steadiness and calm to my heart.

  It was during one of those times when I had been sitting by the beach, surveying the sea, that I met Robin.

  “They won’t quit tossing that ball over here, you know,” I heard a girl say, an infectious chuckle in her voice. She gestured to where a few kids were playing with a ball nearby, having discovered the same secluded patch of sand. The kids had been throwing the ball my way quite often but I hadn’t really noticed. I turned back to look at the owner of the voice.

  It was a very beautiful girl about my age. She beamed widely at me. She had a sun-kissed glow, her skin like caramel in the sunlight, her hair wild and dyed with all the colors of the sun: streaks of yellow, orange and red mixed with one another. She had a thin, small body and a delicate face with hazel golden eyes that made her look like a fairy.

  “I overheard them talking,” she told me. “They are trying to start a conversation with you. Hence tossing the ball over here all the time. They are all quite smitten with you,” she said, chuckling again.

  “Oh, I see.” I averted my gaze. I still felt self-conscious, as if people could tell what had happened to me if they looked hard enough. I also didn’t want anyone recognizing me here. My piece of paradise would be ruined if anyone did.

  With this in mind, I decided it was time to leave.

  The girl stood up as well, watching me with amused, golden eyes. “I can show you another private beach where there’s no pesky kids around, if you want?” she offered kindly.

  I stared at her eyes, hard, trying to read her intentions. The offer and the risk of being alone with a stranger rang suspiciously in my ears. Jarvis had made me paranoid, and I was now wary of any stranger’s kindness.

  She didn’t seem to have any dangerous plans in her head, though. Or even have a clue who I really was. She looked genuinely honest and trustworthy. But I was still wary.

  “That’s okay. I can find someplace else,” I said in a tense voice.

  “Come on, I know this awesome spot. I’ve been coming to this island since I was a baby; I know this place inside out,” she insisted. “Let me show you.”

  I eyed her suspiciously, but her honest smile won me over. “Okay, let’s see this place, then,” I conceded reluctantly.

  “Yay! Follow me,” she said, giggling and skipping joyfully over the sand.

  “I’m Robin, by the way,” she introduced herself, giving me a quick wink.

  “Nice to meet you, Robin. I’m Joe.”

  She turned to look at me with the widest grin. “Really? That’s so cool! You have a boy’s name too, just like me!” She looked genuinely pleased with that odd coincidence.

  Robin directed me out of the sand and into a maze of narrow alleys until we ended up on another small patch of beach, hidden from view by a sheer cliff with rocky boulders at each side. It was very small and beautiful – and private.

  “See? What did I tell you? Amazing, right? I can show you a lot of secret little patches of shore like this one,” she said proudly. “There’s all sorts of cool things on the island for you to see. I can give you a tour later.”

  “This is really beautiful. Thanks, I’d love to do that,” I exclaimed, and she beamed happily at me. “You’ve been coming to this island often, then?” I asked curiously.

  “Yeah, almost once a year. My parents’ house is that orange one up there, the second at the top of the hill, you see?” she said, pointing to a huge house which neighbored mine.

  “I’m staying at the one at the top, right next to yours,” I told her.

  “Oh, you’re with the Worthingtons, then?”

  “Yeah. They were kind enough to lend me their home for a while.”

  “I know Tiffany. She used to come here a lot, too. We used to play on the beach when we were little. She hardly ever comes these days. I guess it’s because she has that boyfriend now. I saw them in the house together once. I think he’s a rock star or something. Never thought Tiff would be the type to go for one of those sorts,” she mused.

  “Those sorts?” I tried to suppress a smile.

  “Yeah, you know, rocker dudes. I feel sorry for her. She deserves a good guy, and musicians are very … you know,” she said, giving me a significant shrug.

  “Very …?”

  “You know, volatile, unstable, egotistical, self-centered, spoiled brats …”

  “Geesh. That’s kinda harsh,” I said, still trying hard not to smile. “I know Tiff’s boyfriend. He’s a good guy. And not all rocker dudes are like that. Believe you me.”

  “If you say so. He’s too pretty, though. No one is that pretty without being a conceited brat. But I’ll shut up. I’m here bad-mouthing him and he’s your friend,” she said, chuckling. “I guess I’m just a tad jealous. Oh, look! A starfish! I’ll go check it out,” she said, running to the sea.

  She forgot about me the entire time she was entertaining herself with that starfish. Then she switched her attention to some glittery shells, then a butterfly which flew past us. Her attention span wasn’t very long, I noticed.

&nbs
p; Over the next few days that I shared her company, I learned a lot of interesting things about Robin. I learned that she was a bit random and eccentric. She had the attention span of a toddler and the brain activity of a hummingbird: incredibly fast and in constant movement, always bursting with energy.

  She never pressed you to talk about things you didn’t feel comfortable with; she never smothered you and she knew when to give you space. She was bluntly honest and often said exactly what was on her mind. She was true, kind and loved life intensely. And she was a tad crazy.

  She would come and hang out with me for hours and then disappear for long periods of time, doing God knew what. She always came back with a novelty of sorts, whether it was an interesting tale or a curious souvenir she’d discovered in the market. She was always full of surprises.

  One day she convinced me to go out and buy new clothes to celebrate our newfound friendship. I had a haircut, too, because she had inspired me to do things that I really wanted to do.

  I’d always wanted short hair, yet I’d never taken the plunge because Tristan liked my hair long. I didn’t think twice now about chopping it all off. It was time to make some changes – be bold, be wild, do what my heart desired.

  I stopped caring about the people who stared, and I didn’t try to turn my face away any more, either. I was done trying to hide who I was, trying to hide myself. I was proud of every part of me, every bruise, mark and scar. I was a brand new Joe Gray.

  I had finally found my self-confidence. I was finally standing on my own two feet, without any emotional crutches, without leaning on anybody. I was fully healed. It finally hit me: I felt mended, whole again. That’s when I decided to call Tristan. I was finally ready to see him. To be with him again. To love him completely again.

  When I turned my phone on, it instantly flooded with messages and missed calls from the boys, Tiffany, even a few from Becca and my mother, but none from Tristan.