Remember Me.

Prolouge

They say that I was brave, and strong.

That I was so inspiring for what I've dealt with, the countless hours of therapy.

But they're full of crap.

I know they mean well, but you're just being pitied by society for having a fault in your life, a thing that seems so huge, and you're a hero for dealing with it.

And no one wants to be shamed or anything, for not saying something encouraging to the girl that can't remember anything.

My parents tell me that I was driving to a friend's house, whose name I cannot remember, and I arrived perfectly fine. As I drove home, however, just down the street of my very dwelling, a car was hurtling towards mine, and the rest is simply history.

Buried underneath the story, I remember how it felt. The airbags confining you in a tight space between the car seat and themselves, the poison-like powder that made me cough in a horrendous fit, the air leaving my lungs as the car was flipped upside down. The cracking, the shattering of the glass windows.

Somehow, that pain that I felt is nowhere near how I feel, when I tell my parents that I don't know who they are, and the way their faces just drop, and my mother's eyes, how they water, and how my father holds her hand so tightly, presses his lips to her forehead, and murmurs to her that it will be okay.

And I have brother, too. He's two years younger than me, and he doesn't understand.

I don't know why, but he feels the need to scream at me, and slam his bed room door in my face when I apologize for something I had no power in controlling.

Lastly, there's constantly a boy who always shows up at my door, baring a new bouquet of flowers everyday.

My parents tell me that he's some stranger, playing a cruel joke on me because I can't remember.

They send me to my room while they speak to him, and I obey, but I've spoken to him without their knowing.

He tells me that we dated for three years, that he knew everything about me. We rarely fought, it was like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

Of course, I didn't know who Nicholas Sparks was.

But, he told me to remember him.

He didn't have to tell, though, I tried everyday, and spent every second of every minute trying to remember everything on a day that I knew nothing.