Supernatural//[ON HOLD]

Supernatural//19

Nineteen.

As the week progressed, my memory did not improve. I could, however, remember little details of my life in Texas but nothing that would shed light on why I was here or who had waltzed themselves in my life during my stay. Andy tried to help but it proved to be futile. More often than not, I would receive throbbing headaches that would only worsen the more I try to recall my memory.

When I wasn't trying to regain my memory, I would gloss over the events that had occurred after my mom announced our move. I had understood why my brother had freaked out – he had a life here and he was forced to give it all up for a sister who couldn't even remember why she had landed herself in the hospital.

What I didn't understand was why Chris and Ryan had reacted the way they did. From what I recalled – which was very little and very vague – we weren't well acquainted. And the way Ryan barged out of the room, shaking and trembling had only fueled my confusion. I'd glanced at my brother, hoping for an explanation but only received a slight shake of the head. Chris left shortly after.

My mother had informed me that the doctor wished that I stay overnight so they could perform more test and make certain that my stitches doesn't tear open. And since she couldn't abandon her job, my brother was ordered to stay with me.

Somehow, over the course of twelve hours, my mother had found a small condo in California and had accepted the lease offer. So, the second I was released from the hospital, I was put in charge of packing up my forgotten life and depositing it in the car's trunk.

Soon, the life I'd had in Texas would soon be a speck of memory in the vastness of my mind.

...

“Jamie,” Mom called as I dumped the suitcase filled with my clothes in the trunk. I turned, squinting as the sun's rays burned my eyes, and raised my eyebrows expectantly. My mother sashayed up to me and gave me a small hug. “I'm sorry but this is for the best.”

I cast my eyes downward, wishing for the umpteenth time that I could remember. “Mom, why are we moving?”

She brushed my hair from my eyes and allowed me a small smile; the gesture brightened her features and brought a small light in her eyes. “Sweetheart, you were shot. I can't let that happen again.” She kissed my forehead and waved for my brother to come over. “Andy, take her to the school, get the withdrawal letter and her school record and files, alright? Come straight back. I still need you to take care of some things.”

My brother nodded stiffly and took my arm, guiding me to the car and pushing me into the passenger seat. I clasped my seatbelt on and stared straight ahead as Andy slid in, started the engine, and zoomed out of the neighborhood.

I focused on anything but his dampened features. The scenery was spectacular: the birds chirped and sang, the trees swayed gently in the early autumn breeze and the blue sky was clear and vast. I committed the scene to memory and sat in silence as we merged onto the highway. The quietness was deafening and the only sound that could be heard was the distinct whirring of the air conditioning in the car. Finally, I swiveled my head to the side and spoke softly, my voice amplified in the compacted space of the car. “I'm sorry.”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he replied sharply, “For what?”

“It's my fault that we're moving again. You were just getting settled and–”

“Stop right there.” Andy interjected, finally meeting my gaze squarely. “It's not your fault. If anything it's Ry–” His features darkened and he trailed off before continuing, discarding his earlier words. “It's not your fault.” He stated firmly. “Maybe this is for the best.”