Remind Me

Chapter Seventeen

I can't seem to think straight.

I don't even know how to describe it.

It's almost like my brain is filled with smoke, and the smoke is all doubt. I want to believe that there's some hope off in the distance but I can't see past all this doubt.

I can't recall having dreamless nights until now. I sleep with images of nothing but pure darkness in my head.

The doctors tell me it's because of the medication when I explain this to them. It does a lot, I guess, that medication. It's supposed to magically make me okay, too. Doctors are so full of themselves.

Maybe I've kind of lost it. Maybe I finally hit the brick wall. I guess I wouldn't know. All I hear about is how sad everyone is. How they hope I'll get better. Yeah? I hope I get better too. But there's nothing I can do about my crappy situation.

Maybe those stuck up doctors should come up with medication for bad attitude problems too.

"It's time to go, Brinley," Clarin says, taking my suitcase from off the floor by my bed. "Mom's waiting in the car."

We both walk down the stairs and out to the car. Clarin drops my suitcase inside the trunk, and then we're on our way. We don't talk much. I know my mom doesn't think this is the ideal situation. She even suggested that I stay at Jamie, my old best friend's house. I rejected that idea strongly. I am not sitting through five days of sobbing.

Their flight leaves about an hour and a half from when they stop at the dormrooms. I tell them to go ahead, I can find my way. I've been here many times. They shouldn't be late.

So I pick up the suitcase, which is heavier than I thought, and watch as they drive away.

"Want some help with that?"

I turn around, startled. Joey, Owen's roommate, stands in front of me, pointing to the suitcase that's weighing me down. My shoulder might come out of socket because of this freakishly heavy luggage.

"Here," he says, and takes it from my hand. He grunts. "Whoa, what've you got in here?"

"I honestly don't remember anymore," I shrug. "What're you doing out here?"

"Owen sent me out to help," Joey explains.

"Why doesn't Owen come out and help himself?" I ask him, cocking an eyebrow.

"He's making us all breakfast," Joey replies.

With that, I follow him up the stairs and to Owen's room. I take the key from Joey and unlock the door, letting Joey inside first. He drops the suitcase by the couch with another grunt.

"Can't handle a suitcase?" Owen asks Joey, as I close his door and walk inside. I get a whiff of something glorious smelling, whatever it is he's cooking.

"You try carrying that brick loaf."

"No thank you," Owen rolls his eyes. "Hey Brinley, welcome. Want something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine-"

"Don't be polite, come eat this, Brinley. You're never polite, and this is your favorite," Joey says, shoving me towards the couch.

Owen brings Joey (who is now sitting beside me on the couch) and I both plates with an omelet on them. I start eating and decide that I do like it, a lot actually. I easily realize why I thought this was my favorite.

"So," Owen says, before taking a drink of orange juice, "We aren't going to waste this week away. Me and Joey have got some things planned for us."