The Imperfect Truth of Diamond Hearts {Kellin Quinn Sequel}

1 - I'll Take You There

    Maybe we should start more towards the beginning, the place I left off when I last had to do something like this.  The last time I went through it though, I was alone and broken and now…now I just don’t know.  I’m trying to pick up the pieces and figure out where my life went.  It was like a dry erase board, like my memories had been painted on a whiteboard and then just erased as though it had never been.  I had to look back further than I thought I would just to remember something even though I remembered a lot more than the hospital thought I would.  Still…everything is out of whack and I can’t remember what the hell had happened to me.

    My doctor said it had been an accident but I couldn’t recall it.  There was a blackness that lead up to this one afternoon and my therapist wouldn’t just flat out tell me why I blacked out.  It was annoying as fuck to not know what the hell was going on.  I had brain surgery and still they wouldn’t tell me.  All my hair was gone and when I looked in the mirror I saw a stranger but still…nothing.

    The only thing that helps is writing.  It is better therapy than what the doctor can give me.  I think I’m too much in my head though but I don’t see how it matters at this point.  I am lost as it is, what is the difference if I’m in my head or in the real world?  I would rather type out memories than say them out loud.  The doctor says it will help to get it all down on paper but I’m not always so sure.  Maybe if I work my way backwards I can figure it all out.

    There is only one person who brings back the memories and he is always here, always helping me write.  I know who he is and I know why he makes me smile.  He often brings two little kids with him, both only about ten years old and rambunctious as ever.  I know them all, but my memory is so spotty that I can’t sequence events like I should be able to.  It’s the most frustrating fucking thing I have ever experienced…or at least I think it is.  I’m just glad I have them, my family here.  They’re all that keeps me going.

    I set down the pencil, the mechanical thing bright against the white table that hovered above my bed.  I stared at it forlornly, remembering how long it took me to be able to recall how to articulate through this scrawl.  It was a pain in my ass.  My husband had fought for me though, pushing me through it.  He said there was no point in me giving up because he was here…and he was right.  Still hard for me to believe how patient that man is and how much he loves me.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before or at least anything I can really recall.  I’m sure he’s made me feel this way because I can sense this connection to him.

    But I still don’t know what happened to me.

    He was there when I woke up, those sea foam eyes glistening with such happiness that I couldn’t even believe he was there for me.  I had a shaved head, a huge pain in my skull and a scar on the side along with a batch of horrible stubble growing from the areas they shaved. 

    Kellin had fixed the patchy job and just got rid of all the hair with the clippers.  He was so gentle, so fixated on treating me like some porcelain doll that I couldn’t believe he was real.  These memories of our lust and love was powerful though so I knew he was here for me.  I knew how much I loved him, could feel it in my bones.  Somehow I couldn’t even think that I was hallucinating despite how beautiful he was.  That look he got in his orbs, that sensation rocked me to my core.

    “Hey baby,” he called as he walked into the room suddenly, startling me and causing me to nearly send all of my stuff flying.  I scrambled to grab the diary and the pencil, flipping it through the air a few times and luckily catching it.  He laughed softly, that smile sending my heart a fluttering.  I bit my lip and blushed.

    He was wearing a grey v-neck today, long dark locks curling tenderly around his jaw.  A beanie hid part of his wavy hair, the turquoise knit familiar and perfectly matched to his picturesque eyes.  It was like part of the ocean created those orbs, like the waves were lapping at those lengthy black lashes.  It wasn’t fair how pretty he was but he had his flaws, few and far between as they were.  There was stubble on his chin, a few pustules marking how stressed out he was along with the deep circles beneath each of his eyes.  There was a weight on his shoulders he tried not to show but I could feel it.  Maybe it was just the connection between husband and wife but nonetheless I knew he was struggling.  I couldn’t help admiring him though for the man he was, blue jean skinnies hugging his hips and flowing down to grey and white Toms.  That bright smile was on his mouth for me too and it was hard to believe that at times.  Tickled my insides though and I knew that was a good thing.