Out of reach (Michael Clifford)

Chapter 19

Lilacs POV

It was 2 months later and not much progress had been made with my memory. I was starting to lose hope.. That I'd never remember who I was or how I got here, and that scared me.

I was sat on my hospital bed, a pile of clothes next to me and a form sheet in my hands. Sandy was with me, sitting on his chair waiting patiently for me to sign it as I read over the form another time.

Me and Sandy have grown close over the last 2 and a half months. It might not have been a long time but he's stuck with me this whole time, and never gave up on me. I've been asked to be put into Sandy's care for now, they're planning to give me a whole new identity if I'm okay with it in the next few months.

I've been known as Alice, and it's starting to grow on me.. I just don't know why I can't remember my name.. or anything, really. Sometimes when I think I'm starting to think back to my identity, the doctor would come straight to my side; other times Sandy would shake me of the thought of it, saying it was ridiculous. Like when I was looking out the window and saw a nice bush full of lilac flowers, and how I thought the colour was so beautiful, I started to believe I was remembering something or connecting with my past, but Sandy cut me off too quick for me to remember what I was trying to think.

I trust Sandy a lot: he's my only friend and he's stayed by my side through all of this trouble. When I'm put into his care he says that we'll be even closer and we'll spend all of our time together, which I can't wait for. He tells me right from wrong and helps me understand things from his perspective.

He won't let me watch TV though, and he seems to have a grudge against music. Sandy says that today's music is too flashy and he's had a terrible past with music, so he wants to put the whole thing in the past. Everything he says fascinates me, I just can't wait to be with him, it's like he's my only hope now.

I let out a sharp breathe, taking the pen in my hand before signing Alice down on the sheet of paper, and he stands up immediately, taking the paper straight to the doctor; he must be eager. After I sign it, I pick up the pile of clothes that had been put away to be washed since I had arrived here in them.

As I stood behind the changing curtains I held up a ripped over-sized Blink-182 shirt. I tilted my head to the side, feeling the fabric with my fingers delicately. "Are you sure this is mine, Sandy?" I asked as I heard the door open and close.

"Uh, maybe they got mixed up.. Hey how about I buy you some new clothes? New start, gonna need some new clothes, right?" He said quickly, adding a small laugh to the end to soften it. I nodded, smiling and thanking him. Sandy walked out, telling me he'd be half an hour.

After he left I took another look at the shirt, furrowing my eyebrows. Something about the shirt.. reminded me of something..? I smelt in, a lingering scent still clinging to the fabric. Along with the smell of washing detergent, I sort of smelt a musky smell, like cologne and alcohol? It smelt heavenly, and I recognised it almost. Searching for a tag on the shirt I found one in the collar, finding an 'M' marked on it in sharpie. "They must've mixed my clothes up.." I sighed, shrugging it off as I couldn't wrap my brain around that scent and who it belonged to.

I tried tugging on the jeans, finding they were a bit baggy on me: I had lost a lot of weight in hospital. The scent from that shirt still stuck in my nose, and I bit my lip, pulling the shirt over my head. It was very large on me, and I found a certain comfort in wearing it, so I kept it on as I waited for Sandy.

My hair was fading of its pink colour, I realised as I looked in the mirror. Brown roots had started to show and my once pink hair was now fading into a lighter pink/white. I tied it up in a messy ponytail and sat at the chair by the window, gazing out for something interesting to capture my boredom.

I looked upon the brick wall that sat across the hospital windows; it was littered in posters, as I had remembered. I found the poster I had struggled to find last time, and read the full name, finding a strange pull to the design and the picture on the ripped poster. 5 Seconds of.. Summer?

No wonder Sandy doesn't like music, with all these weird band names. What does 5 Seconds of Summer even mean? I sighed, rolling my eyes as I tried to find something else to occupy my time with, but my eyes rolled straight back to that poster. On the picture there was four boys, I couldn't tell what they looked like exactly, but the fourth boy had his face ripped off, so I could only see 3 boys out of the four. One had a bandana, one had dark hair and one with blonde.

What was so interesting about this clearly irrelevant poster? I couldn't put my finger on it. I read on. It said they were playing here in a week. Maybe I could somehow convince Sandy to come and see the band with me, and it'll get him past his hate of music, they can't be that bad.

I waited for Sandy to arrive back, and when he did with a bag of clothes, I pointed out the window to the posters. "Sandy, we should go to the concert together, maybe if you find new taste in music you'll like it!" I smiled, pointing to the poster that intrigued me so much.

As soon as he spotted the picture I was referring to, he froze. His face went white but then grew a dark red, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. "No! You will never mention that band again. You will never, ever, think about that band again, look at them or even listen to them. They're bad, bad people and I don't want you, on all costs, listening to them, you hear me? Now shut the hell up and put these clothes on!" He spat, taking a firm grip on my arm as he shook in anger, throwing the bag of clothes to the floor.

My eye vision went blurry as I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes. "S-Sandy you're hurting m-me." I whispered, causing him to only grip harder on my arm, a strangely familiar feeling of hurt shooting up my arm. I cried out in pain, apologising to him and begging for him to let go.

"You don't step out of line now, yeah? Good girl." He pursed his lips into a thin line, storming out of the room to leave me to change. As soon as he left I collapsed to the floor, pulling up the sleeve of the shirt I was wearing to find a large red mark. That's going to turn into a bruise quickly, I thought.

I struggled back to my feet, my knees shaking in fear and my legs too weak to stand up. Managing to cross the room to the changing curtain, I dug through the bag and pulled out the clothes he had bought. With a small sigh, I quickly wiped the tears away from my cheek and pulled off the shirt and jeans, before changing into a pair of high-waisted shorts and a black and white striped shirt.

Then I slipped my feet into the pumps and picked up the bag and my belongings that I had received over the past 2 and a half months. I scanned over the room, seeing the discarded clothes on the floor. Without thinking twice, I picked them up and stuffed them inside the bag too, hurrying out of the room with the pen and form under my arm and my carrier bag in the other hand.

What Sandy did was normal, right? I trust Sandy.. I didn't like it but.. he was only protecting me. Yeah.