Solitude

A Solitary Memory

Alexander King

I glared at the papers in front of me, my fingers clenching around the pen in my hand.

Anger pummeled against my skin from the inside, bursting to erupt like a volcano. Ten months. It had been ten months since the accident and Oaklee was no closer to remembering.

Everything irritated me and I shouted at anyone who so much as smiled at me.

I had this overwhelming feeling that she would never remember. It was dread and fear and anger. I hated myself and I hated her amnesia. I needed my Oaklee back. She was in front of me, laughing and talking but I couldn't grasp her in my hands. She just kept disappearing like smoke, as soon as my hands were about to wrap around her, she disappeared.

It was heartbreaking and frustrating. Sometimes I thought she remembered me. There would be times where she just looked at me for a second and it was like she was staring at me through my Oaklee's eyes but then she'd blink and when her eyes opened back up, she was gone.

This Oaklee didn't love me like the last. She knew everything about me, I didn't hold back, but she didn't trust me enough. Maybe it was because she was forced upon me and not because we fell in love naturally and slowly the first time. It was gradual and beautiful. This time, I pushed myself on her so it wasn't the same. She wasn't as open, she never talked about her mum or her books like she did before.

"How's your book coming along?" I ask, gesturing to her light grey laptop.

Her eyes widen comically. "How do you know about my books?"

I resist the urge to sigh. It was like this, her questioning everything I knew about her. "You told me Oak. You're 'Octavius Matthews', the mysterious and anonymous author. I've read your books."

"Really? I told you?" Her suspicious and doubtful voice wounds me.

"Yea."

"Why?" She questions in bewilderment.

"Because you trust me."

I sigh as I remember, my heart aching painfully. I rubbed my chest to try and ease the pain but it did nothing. It wasn't physical, not really, it was deep routed emotional pain that caused physical effects. It hurts and nothing could be done to stop it. I felt this often. This was normal but it still hurt.

"How long have I known you?" Her eyebrows furrow adorably as she looks up at me, both of us walking along the canal.

"Before the accident, a year. We had been together five months." I reply, breathing in the cold winter air. Breathing it in was the only relief I could get from the ache inside me as I walked along this familiar route with her, remembering all our memories and conversations and laughter. It was gone now. I was walking in the shadows now, seeing ghosts of the past and feeling the chill as they haunted me.