My Name Is Memory

2 6 . 1 1 . 2 0 1 5

A/N: Listen to the music on side while reading. Highly recommended!

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"The more we study the more we discover our ignorance."

•°•°•°•°•

To the one from the star,

Perhaps it was my ignorance then that is driving me to insanity now? My benighted self that failed to read between the lines; to see through the cracks that were already crawling up the walls of the little kingdom I'd built in my head for us. Just us.

It's a selfish thought, but maybe telling you about my nightmares would've made you stay? But having you close to me -- so close -- did weird things to my heart. It leaped; it bounced. And my stomach somersaulted. I forgot about everything; every other worry that bothered me day and night.

I didn't expect you to have a beating organ inside your chest either. I still don't understand if it was just my imagination, but listening to your heart thud with a soft rhythm lulled me to a land of peace.

I remember closing my eyes, melting into your chest while the tears in my eyes dried like the thin rivulets flowing through the desert sands. You made me feel alive. And I wish you were here now.

Because I need to feel alive again.

"Are you alright?" You'd asked, your voice laced with sincere concern.

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I...I don't know."

You'd nodded and just held onto me. You didn't let me go, nor did you ask me about my dreams again. Maybe it was my voice? Because I realised I could never talk about it even if I tried.

The memories are still raw and fresh; the gruesome details still a sharp ring of fear in my mind.

I'd watched my brother die with my own eyes. He was just a little kid. No more than six years. We were driving to the doctor's chamber. Mom had things to take care of in the office and dad was out of town. John needed medical attention for his sudden nose bleeding and I was the only one at home.

I'd decided to quickly visit the doctor and drive John to the nearest hospital if necessary. On the way though, tragedy hit us harder than the truck that hit my dad's car.

I was too focussed on John who desperately pressed his handkerchief to his nose to stop the bleed. He was crying. He was upset. He was scared.

He was just a child. A six-year-old child.

And I killed him.

I was too engrossed with my brother sitting on the passenger seat. I kept on looking his way, every time consoling him that it'd be alright. He would be alright.

I hadn't seen the truck that came from the other side way too fast. Maybe the driver was drunk. I don't know. But that was the last time I'd seen my brother. A bleeding, sobbing, scared six-year-old.

The next thing I knew was the car went toppling to the other side of the road, followed by a loud crash. I don't remember anything much after that. Just that the next time I woke up, John was already six feet under the ground.

And I'd killed him.

•°•°•°•°•

A/N

So...I don't really know if her narration came across as sad and heart felt as I wanted it to be, but I sure as hell gave myself a lot of anxiety while writing this. So yeah...I don't really know what to say but I hope you liked it?

Thank you so much for reading!

~Jenna