If You Forget | ✓

Chapter 7

"Sweetie, your friends are here," Mom says from the other side of the door and I sigh, realizing I'll have to go downstairs and leave my bubble for a while.

When I enter the living room, I see three girls sitting on the couch. They look up at me, and the one in the middle waves at me with a smile on her face.

"Elainne! Hi! It's so good to see you." Jane gets on her feet and comes to greet me. I don't expect a hug from her, but I awkwardly wrap my hands around her, returning it. When she releases me, she points to the two girls still seated on the couch. "These two are Charlotte Davidson and Naomi Samson." Since she doesn't say anything else about them, I assume they're my old classmates as well. "I wanted to come and see you, but they missed you too, so we decided to pay you a visit together."

When she finally stops talking, I sit in an armchair next to the couch, while she takes her previous spot. I sneak a few glances at Charlotte and Naomi. Their faces feel brand new to me, like I've never seen them before. If any other classmates stopped by, would I remember them, or would they be brand new people to me too?

"Only the three of us are here now," Jane says, "but everyone in school misses you so much. We all hope you'll feel better soon and come back."

The other two nod, confirming Jane's statement, but something about it reminds me of my "be careful of who you're calling a friend" note from 1984. Now that I think about it, it makes me wonder. The girls seem friendly, but almost too friendly to me. Their smiles and enthusiasm look exaggerated to the point where I'm starting to doubt things again.

If there's anything the book made clear so far, it's that my life surely isn't as perfect as it looks.

I manage to put a polite smile on my face. "Can you tell me more about them?"

"Our classmates? Of course! Don't worry, that's what we're here for." Her words make it sound like she's only here for gossip, and truly, that seems to be the only thing on her mind.

She tells me about our other classmates, revealing the latest dramas and other people's relationships, but the names she tosses around get lost in my mind as soon as she says them. Charlotte and Naomi aren't any better, mainly letting Jane talk and only occasionally adding to the gossip.

For a second, I consider running out of the room and just leaving them on the couch. I don't need to know about the relationship status of every person in our school. I need something that might actually be helpful to me.

"What about Chris?" I finally take my chance to ask when she stops to catch her breath.

"Chris?" she asks dumbfounded.

"Yeah, the guy who was kidnapped with me. What can you tell me about him?"

The three of them glance at each other awkwardly, as if they're unsure what to say.

"Well," Naomi starts, "we don't really know a lot about him. He was always a very shy and a bit antisocial guy. He mostly hung out with you, actually."

Somehow, that surprises me. It doesn't fit the impression I previously had, although I'm not even sure if that was the right one. His parents described him as a lovely child, but they never said anything about his friends.

I let them continue, tuning them out entirely. They might've noticed my change in mood, because soon they awkwardly look at the time and say they'll have to take their leave. I can't help but think to myself how they sure left fast for people who claimed they missed me a lot.

I happily retreat to my room right after they leave, pondering over everything they told me. Most of the information already dissipated, gone from my mind without a trace. But the one thing they said about Chris, however little, leaves me thinking. I grab the origami butterfly from my nightstand and twist it around in my fingers, careful not to mess up any loose folds.

Even after all this time, I'm not sure what to think about Chris. He's like an unanswered question lingering at the back of my mind. I've been trying to solve this mystery because he might be somewhere out there, waiting for my help, but I just kept finding more and more questions without an answer. Or am I like this origami, so tangled up in this mess that there's no possible way to go back to the start?

The butterfly gives me no reply, so I just keep laying in my bed until I hear my dad come back home. I look at the clock and see it's almost dinnertime, so I go back downstairs to greet him.

He's in the living room, sitting on the couch, but when he sees me, he pats the spot next to him, beckoning me to come closer. "Hey, sweetie. How was your day?" he asks as I sit down.

"Fine," I mutter. "Some friends from school stopped by and paid me a visit."

"Oh, really? Which ones?"

I tell him their names and he nods with a smile. "That's nice. How are the headaches?"

"It's getting better, I rarely have them nowadays." What I say is completely true. They have been very generous to me lately, rarely haunting me anymore. In fact, ever since I started reading 1984 and hunting down my own clues they eased down, as if they knew that was something really important to me, something I needed to push through no matter what.

I try to think of what to say in return, so I ask him about his work. "Oh, it was fine, I just had to stay overtime because we got a new delivery today and storage room was a mess," he says as he lazily scratches his ear, and then yawns, showing how tired he is.

Just when I'm about to reply, Mom calls us over to the dining room. Unlike the first time I returned home, there's no more awkward atmosphere while we eat. Instead, we chat casually, and they even talk about some of my childhood memories.

"...and then you ran over to me, but you didn't cry at all, you just stared at me and said 'Daddy, this bike is evil.' with a most adorable serious expression I've ever seen." We all laugh as dad finishes the story of my first attempt to ride a bike when I was a child.

I stare at my plate, thinking about all those memories I've lost. Now, the only ones I can rely on to help me recall them are my parents. Even if I gather every single person I've interacted with throughout my life, they could only tell me so much. What if there's a part of me that will always be lost, leaving a gaping hole in the puzzle of my life?

Reluctantly, I remember the conversation I overheard a few days ago. Even if my parents told me everything, could I really trust them? I look at both of them, carrying on with their conversation. The entire night feels perfect, like something is finally going right after all this time, but how much of that perfect picture is real?

Maybe I just misunderstood them. Maybe they didn't mean anything bad. Maybe the Youngs are truly the bad guys, and they just wanted to protect me. I can't help but feel like there's danger looming over me and that there's somebody who wishes me harm, but I can't figure out who that might be.

I'm stuck in the sea of "what if"s once again, and I can't discern the truth. But if I want to get all my memories back and try to save Chris, I'll have to do it before it's too late.

***

I... may or may not have forgot to update yesterday >.> But don't worry, considering I still want to stay on schedule, we're getting a double update now, so chapter 8 will follow right after! ^.^

And I promise I'll try to stay on schedule from now on. Pinky promise v.v

Nina <3