If You Forget | ✓

Chapter 9

Ever since I found the password for my laptop, I've been eager to investigate more and try to find the flash drive, but I was rarely left all alone in the house. The opportunity doesn't come until two days later, when mom comes into my room and tells me she'll need to head out.

"Your dad just called me. I'm not sure what happened, but he told me there's been some mess at the store, so he needs me to bring him a new shirt. I'll head out for a bit, would you be fine on your own?"

I barely hide my excitement. "Yes, of course. Say hi to him from me."

"Will do!" she shouts, already back in the hallway. I tiptoe to the window and peek through it, watching as she leaves the driveway. The second she's out of reach, I take a deep breath, reassessing the clues I have so far.

Among the two groups, one seems to have a common theme. Memory holes probably refers to my missing memories, while I'm pretty sure that books was pointing at 1984 and the red books that brought me to my laptop's password. Document is the one I don't fully understand yet, but there might be a document on the flash drive.

I pause and mull over the last one. Photographs. It's the only clue I have for now, no matter how weak.

I decide to start from the one photograph I have in my room. It shows a little version of me in our backyard, with both of my parents-who look slightly younger than now-by my side. I grab its simple white frame and pick it up from my nightstand. The picture itself doesn't arouse any suspicion in me, and even inspecting the frame and the back of the picture doesn't give me any results.

Instead of sulking, I only inhale deeply and put it back in its place. That is a good sign. The past me clearly decided to make this hunt as complicated as possible, so finding any clues from this would feel wrong.

I hop out of my bed and leave my room. Despite being alone in the house, I tiptoe my way down the stairs, but I pause midway through.

For the first time since I came back home, I stop to inspect the pictures on the wall more closely. I never paid them much attention before, giving them a passing glance every now and then. The only thing I know is that they're pictures of me and my family, but that's about it.

Soon enough, I realize that was a big mistake.

The first thing I notice is that there's four of them. Four. It already fits one of the clues, although that's the most vague one I have, so the number may not mean anything here.

The first picture in the row shows me and my mom standing on what appears to be a cliff. Behind us is a wide area of layered rocks, and our expressions are unclear, shadowed by sunglasses and hats. The bottom right corner of the picture says Grand Canyon. If I compare this to my clues, vast land spaces and the rocks seem to fit this picture.

The next one shows a slightly younger me sitting in front of a tent with dad. A huge grin is plastered over my face and his arm is resting on my shoulder. The starry night sky looms above us, and there's a small bonfire nearby. Look at the stars! Flame. I mentally cross off other clues one by one before I move on to the next picture.

This one shows the three of us on the couch in the living room. I sit between my parents, right in the middle of the couch, with only a hint of a smile on my face and my hands resting on the couch cushion underneath me. Weirdly enough, no clues fit this one. There is only one clue left, and it fits the last picture in the row.

Surface of water. The photograph shows me standing on a beach, dressed in a purple one-piece swimsuit. My bare feet are covered in sand, while the beautiful blue sea stretches out everywhere behind me.