Remind Me Again

017

Hello Lovelies!

This chapter was inspired by Cirque du Soleil and a book entitled The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. One of my favorite books in the world! :)                                                  

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017  (Tamara’s POV)  

“It takes a huge effort to free yourself from memory.”

~Paulo Coelho

The Amnesiac Files:

March 20, 2012

Entry #50

Dear Friend AKA Journal,

I have been finally relieved from the asylum.

***

“Well,” Dr. Boy George sighs as he stood beside me outside his office. “it seems I’ll have to say goodbye for a while to my favorite patient.”

I suppress a laugh. But a figured that a smile wouldn’t really hurt. “I bet you tell that to all of your patients.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Just don’t forget to pay me a visit here twice a week.” He nods at my little red notebook in hand. “Write it down now before you forget.”

He walked me to the asylum’s main door and surprisingly he pulled out my yellow green binder. As usual, I would wonder how and why my binder could travel around town without me knowing. Am I that inept? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. The object itself has a mind of its own—wings even. I have been thinking to call it the brother of “The Thing” (you know, that traveling hand of the Addams family).

Dr. BG taps the top of my binder. “Keep this very well. Don’t lose it again.”

I grabbed it from him appreciatively. “Thanks. I will keep it safe with me like a Holy Bible.”

He grins at me and then his eyes flew behind me—or rather, someone behind me.

“I have asked someone to keep you company on your way home.” I turned to the person behind me.

He’s a cocky looking guy with messy brown hair and a snarky, irritating smile across his face. We seem to be at the same age but there’s something about his eyes. They were both dark and soft; I couldn’t even find myself looking away from those eyes. That’s when something hit me.

“Do I… know you?”

His smile broadens. “Maybe.”

My eyebrows met immediately and then I turned back to Dr. BG. I leaned in to his ear trying as hard as possible to keep out of Boy George’s ear spot.

“Are you sure about this?” he nods at me. I stiffened. The thought that my own shrink had permitted a stranger to accompany me home gave me the chills of early sickness. “Where are my parents?”

He sighs. “You know him, Tamara.” He says out loud and I felt ashamed that Boy George has to hear us backstabbing him—no, I mean front stabbing him. But he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Dr. BG squeezed my shoulders as he made me face Boy George. “Just trust your instincts.” He hands my tote to him. “Bye, Tamara! Have a great day!”

And before I could argue with his silly arrangement he’s back in his hollowed sanctuary. I stifled a groan and I reluctantly turned to Boy George with a polite face. I then point at my tote. He raises it to me.