Shards

chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Floating through a land of shattered memories, I tried—desperately—to pick up the pieces. All I saw were flashes, some of which didn't even seem to be from my eyes. Everything was blurry, as I was transported from one question to another.

There was a little red haired girl, crouched in the corner of a dark room, her eyes tightly shut. I felt anger, I felt determination. Her mom was going to save her, she knew it! She also knew that she couldn't speak, but I wasn't sure why. Suddenly, the flashes stopped and the door was opened. But as soon as the light began to flood in, I was spinning again.

Now it was raining, hard. I was drenched, from head to toe, but I knew that not all the water on my face was rain. The sobs racked through my body, causing me to double over in pain. Why did she have to die? The little golden haired girl lay in my arms, looking just like she was asleep. She wasn't asleep though, the red running from her chest confirmed that.

Then I felt myself stand up, and it wasn't raining anymore. I was in a dark room—with a buzzing yellow bulb—but the feeling was exactly the same, and the tears were the same. The metal door was open and I pulled the tray towards me. It was a freezing coffin. Her lifeless blue eyes stared back at me, her brown hair unmoving. In desperation, I buried my tear stained face in her chest, then I was a child again.

I knelt on the ground, the hot sun beating down on my back. The frustration was there again, but tenfold. Then I saw him. He stood over me, grinning, his hand outstretched. His golden curls cascaded down over his bright green eyes. He was young, couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Then I was taking his hand, and I felt trust again. Before my eyes, I watched him transform from a boy to a teenager, right beside me, always beside me.

His smirk was contagious and I heard myself yell,“Ian!”

He opened his mouth and I knew he was about to say my name, but I was falling again.

This time it was different. I was me, but I wasn't. Here I was so much more confused. The baby blue colour of my walls made me feel numb as I sat on the floor beside my bed. I felt cleaner. I was happier, but I wasn't. I could sense how fake it all was. That was why I was I was peering so intently under my bureau, reaching for something taped in the very back corner.

All it had taken was a note, to shatter my life and scatter the pieces into the growing pile I'd been oblivious to moments ago. There were so many shards, so many broken things. How could I have forgotten myself?

“Jane... Jane wake up.” The voice came to me as if it was muffled my layers and layers of cotton.

It was Doctor Jamison! I had to tell him! I had to tell him what I'd found! It had all started with the note!

“It all started with the note,” I mumbled, trying desperately to get it out.

“It all started with the note!” Sitting bolt upright, I said it again, louder this time.

Reality came rushing in, pushing away the shattered mirror that was my mind. I was covered with sweat, and my pillow had been thrown across the room. I felt dried tears on my face and Doctor Jamison was standing over me, concern in his eyes. My head was still throbbing painfully, and I felt slightly dizzy.

“What do you mean Jane?” he asked. “What started with the note?”

I opened my mouth, expecting my dream to spill out, but nothing came. I couldn't remember, I'd lost what I'd found. How was I supposed to tell him that? Thankfully, I didn't need to, he could tell by the look on my fallen face.