Complicated Things

Eleven|Game of Truth.

What's the worst that could happen?

I open the door to his study, the woodsy scent hitting my nostrils immediately. He is seated behind his desk, busily scanning through the papers in his hand.

Before I can think of how to gain his attention, he addresses me.

"Taylor." He stands up, walking to the rows of books behind his desk.

"Follow me " He pushes it slightly, revealing a secret passage.

I follow him, too tired to show any sign of surprise. The passage is dim, the bulbs attached to the wall illuminating the path. The path is narrow, as if it will close on us any minute from now. The walls are a mixture of bricks and stones, the air there stale.He takes a few turns before pushing another wall, welcoming us to another study, bigger than the last.

The space is large, with a desk and shelves of books. The books are fewer than his previous study, and the air a mixture of fresh flowers and lemon. The windows overlook the sprawling estate as well, but more magnificent view. The other walls are filled with several pictures, memories captured into frames.

My eyes land on the huge case displaying an array of different trophies and achievements. My legs involuntarily sends me towards them, my fingers tracing the case.

There are all awards achieved by the Windsor daughters, but the dominant one?

Taylor.

The accolades vary from equestrian lacrosse, tennis, swimming, debate and even public speaking competitions. Eerily, the accolades gives me a small sense of pride and accomplishment. Confused, I quickly take a step back, my eyes regretfully falling on the pictures showcased.

"Taylor honey." His voice cuts through my trance, reminding me of his presence.

He turns me by my shoulder, so that I'm facing him instead. Resting his hand on my shoulder, I'm obliged to stare into his eyes.

Sadness and guilt cloud them.

"Tell me how you're feeling. How are you doing, my love? "

I look down at the shoes he's having on, probably an expensive item. I don't know what to tell him.

That I'm not Taylor, his daughter?

Something I'm not even sure of anymore.

Another minute of silence passes before Mr. Windsor realizes I'm not going to speak.

"I'm not aware of your conversation with Greg and what he said to trigger this. I'm also not aware of what you remembered. But Taylor" he pauses, removing a strand of hair from my face.

"You're beyond that. Look at your accomplishments, you're not any person. You're a Windsor, full of fire and passion. Strong willed and
relentless. You have so much potential that you don't even realize it. Memories or not, you're my Windsor princess and I'll move the world and back just to find out whoever is after your life. I've a whole team working undercover just to find out who that person is. For now Tay, I need you to stand strong, I need to keep your head high. Don't let them kick you while you're down."

His words strikes a chord in me, awakening emotions that I've managed to numb these past few days. Whether I am Taylor or not, I needed to so something. My mother always told me to stay strong in the face of adversities, to be as independent as she was.

At least there is one thing I had in common with Taylor.

The tears well up in my eyes and before I realize it, they stream shamelessly down my cheeks.