Broken Memories

Chapter 10

                                                                                    Chrissy

"Chrissy I need to talk to you." Eric stops me.

"Not now Eric." I tell him, anger building up inside me.

"Yes now." He demands.

"Look whatever you think I did, you're probably right so let me go." I state.

He's eyes cloud over with despair. "No," he says weakly.

I don't have time for this, I remind myself. Then I walk around him and towards the schools exit.

This isn't going to end well, but to protect my family I will do it.

He isn't giving me a choice anyways.

I flew upwards and out of my nightmare. My chest beats out of my chest as I try to get a grip on the past and present. I count to three again and again-a technique my therapist told me to try.

It doesn't work because the next thing I know I'm kneeling on the ground, head in my bin (which is normally next to my desk but I dragged it over towards me), and allow all the food I ate last night to come spilling out of me.

Frustrated and frightened isn't a good mix to start off a Tuesday morning.

Even so, it's five in the morning by the time I stop throwing up, my breathing is still ragged, and I'm mad at everyone.

My brother, Eric, my mum, Nathan, but most of all. I'm mad at myself.

Why can I still not remember my life? It's my life I should remember it. A tear slips down my cheek.

That's when I crack. After weeks of trying not to, holding strong for everyone, pretending to myself it will be okay. I've finally had enough of my lies. I can't carry on like this. I can't. I can't. I can't.

This isn't how I want to live my life. Not remembering anything about my childhood. My heart aches, my head aches-maybe worse than when I came out of the hospital.

I can't breathe. Oxygen gets stuck as my throat collapses in on itself, giving up on me.

Breathe. I tell myself again and again. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

I curl in on myself, on the ground next to my bed. Shaking, shaking away all the bad thoughts. But this time I can't and I won't. Questions swirl around in my head. Questions I want answers to.

What did I do to Eric? Is that why he's not fond of me. Why didn't I have a choice.

And as I remember how to inhale through my nose. As I remember how my lungs thrive on the oxygen that my throat wouldn't allow moments ago I know for certain;

I'm done, I want answers. And I'm going to get them.

That resolve is the last thing I remember before passing out on the hard threadbare carpet of my room.

***

How do you solve a crime?

The same question has been circling in my head the entire morning, plus all the extra daunting information. Or more of the fact that I have none.

In movies you don't see how people start from scratch, from the very start. The mystery is easy because you as the audience have been given all the information, leaving you to scream at the characters for not knowing. Dramatic irony to its fullest.

I assume right now I'm that dumb girl clueless to everything. But how do I even start to figure out what happened in my past.

My memories are coming back too slow, and I can't even talk to anyone about it because of my promise. The guy that hates me just popped up in one of my memories. The same guy I have to sit next to in my first lesson today.