Memories Of A Witness

Chapter Two

Megan ducked her head, jerked the handle of the faucet and dragged her hands, which was filled with water, quickly along her face. She was scared that in the meantime, someone might pop up behind her. 

Her senses had changed drastically. Whenever she heard a popping or creaking sound, she found herself trembling in fear. Sometimes she saw--or thought-- something moving among her periphery view or even found herself panic stricken by her own shadow. She was paranoid and scared. She finally comprehend why her father had kept the secret away from her. Because he also had been living in fear. He didn't want her to feel the same pain he had been going through.

She rubbed her visage harshly as if she was trying to wipe all of the problems out. The paranoia, self hatred and suspicions that her father was only using her. He only properly talked to her when it was about the past, but if she asked him about other matters like the weather or his job, he would precipitously dismiss her. As if he was only letting her stay in his house, since she held the key to the crime and was in the body of his daughter, which was totally harebrained, because she was his daughter. Megan was starting to feel disconnected from him. In her hospital days, he was still groggy but he still had a warmer side to him. The spark was vanishing with each passing day. Because with each passing day, he came to realization that she wasn't the daughter he once had and that this person didn't seem likely to return.

Megan hated herself. Why did all of this happen? Why couldn't she have just woken up with her full memory?

She twisted the handle of the faucet, pressed her head against the mirror and closed her eyes. But after a few seconds of relaxation she jolted back, her eyes springing open and her senses on high alert.

Footfalls nearby.

She swiveled to the door. "Dad?"

The door jerked open and a mountain of a man appeared. "Sorry, did I surprise you?"

She blinked and felt the tension melt into nothing.

"Here," he extended his arm and unfolded one large hand. A shabby phone laid on his palm.

"Forgot to give this to you. You will need this, if something happens."

She grabbed it silently and looked up at him. "Thanks."

"I've saved my number, so just click on Dad in the contact list." He sounded jagged. "Also a friend will be visiting you today. She has been begging me for it quite some time."

She wasn't expecting that. She felt uneasy. She nodded.

"Alright."

***

Megan's room was like a perfect pulp magazine cover. The glamorous furniture were thick with over a decade of grime. The once polished marble floor and navy blue paneled walls had lost all of its color and sumptuousness. One big empty bookshelf gawked at me and I wondered where all of its residents had rippled off to. Also the substantial arched windows were all locked and obscured by heavy long velvet curtains, giving the room a forlorn and eerie atmosphere. Next to the bathroom door was a walk in closet. Racks of expensive designer clothes and shelves of shoes filled the room. Too bad the garments didn't fit her anymore. They were too loose.

She was sitting on the chaise, playing around with the Nokia, her dad had given her. She wasn't allowed to get out of the house and she didn't want to go downstairs, where it was even messier than here. Depleted wine bottles, takeout packaging and cigarettes scattered around everywhere. It was rare for me to leave my territory. And if she did, she would fill her stomach, have a small empty talk with her father and go back. Her time in rehab was considerably better. At least she had lovely people around her who made her feel great.