Finding Franco

01 | loneliness

01 | loneliness

His eyes look back at me and I felt for sure I would faint at his perfect enchanting white smile.

He looked so happy, it makes me wonder how much a smile can hide.

A teardrop fell onto the small photo I held in my hand and I quickly wipe it away. I refused to shed any more tears for him.

I hear leaves crunching behind me but I don't turn around. My family knew to leave me alone at times like these but it's getting dark and I barely ate today.

I felt a presence sit beside me but I'm too focused on the photo.

"You shouldn't be outside here alone. It's cold and late," a male voice says. "You should probably go home."

I didn't recognize the voice so curiosity got the best of me and I turn to face him. It was a boy around my age wearing warm winter clothing and he had a worried expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," I say, smoke puffing out of my mouth as I speak. "I guess I lost track of time."

He smiles comfortingly at me. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Do you need a ride home?"

I exhale loudly, pounding whether I should or shouldn't. I barely got into a car until absolutely necessary. I walked here, knowing all the exits and entrances but I wouldn't feel safe walking home alone at night in the cold.

Today made it a year since I last saw Franco West, my boyfriend of two years.

"Yeah," I say, smiling softly. "If it's not too much to ask for? I hope you don't mind."

He shakes his head and stands up, offering me a hand. He lifts me up effortlessly and I have to grab onto both his arms to keep myself balanced.

He leads me to his white Range Rover and opens the passenger side for me. I smile softly at his gesture and get in quickly.

"So what's your story?" he asks, focusing on the road and occasionally glances at me. He turns on the heat and I'm automatically hit by the warm air.

I shrug and look out the window. "I don't really have one," I tell him honestly.

"What are you doing out in the forest so late in the cold then?" There was doubt in his tone.

I gulp. "That spot was where my boyfriend and I spend a lot of time together."

He nods. I'm sure he wanted to say more by the look on his face and his actions. "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

I laugh but there's no humor in it. "Well, if losing your memory and waking up in the hospital to find your boyfriend gone is trouble, then yeah, I guess you could say that."

He glances at me nervously and adjusts himself in his seat. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "That sounds really rough."

"Yeah..." I say quietly. "It is. Sorry for snapping at you."

He nods in response. The only sound was the engine and when he shifts gear. He parks in front of my house and I see the lights on. My parents must be waiting for me. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to the stranger.

"I'm Aurora," I say. "Thanks for the ride. It's been awhile since I've had company."

"I'm Logan and don't worry about it. See you soon?" He hands me a napkin with his number.

I smile and take the napkin. "Yeah, that sounds nice." I open the door and slowly approach my front door. I slip inside quietly, hearing my mom in the kitchen and my dad in the living room.

"Aurora?" Mom calls out. "Is that you honey?"

I sprint quickly but quietly to the stairs and hop as fast as I can, locking myself in my bedroom. I hear footsteps come upstairs and I curse myself quietly for being too loud.

There's a knock on the door. "Rory, where have you been?"

In hell, I want to scream. Life has been hell and I can't do anything about it. Only one person can change my point of view but he's not here.

I kick my nightstand, making it screech against the floorboard. "Why aren't you here?!" I scream. I breathe heavily and pull at my hair. I was going crazy.

My mom rushes in through the bathroom door connected to my room. She looks at me in worry and sadness. She wraps her arms around me and whispers soothing words in my ear.

"It'll get better, baby."

"He'll come back."

"Just give him time."

"You'll get your memory back."

Her words are meaningless but I let her try her best. I stand there with her arms wrapped around me, trying to comfort the both of us.

Franco, where are you?

♠♠♠

"How was the search going?" Dr. Carpenter, my therapist, asks.

I shrug. "Nothing new, as usual."

She nods and taps her pen against her notepad. "Have you changed your mind about finding him?"

"No," I reply immediately. She's been trying to convince me to give up on my search for Franco but I always turned her down.

It annoyed the both of us, but I was stubborn and I wouldn't give up on my boyfriend that easily.

"Do you remember anything?" she asks. "Even the smallest detail?"

"No," I answer. "Everything's still black when I try to remember."

"Tell me about your day then."

"I met someone last night," I say, my voice had slight cheer in it. "He drove me home...he was nice."

She sits up straight, obviously interested in this. "Really? Who is he?"

"He's just a friend," I assure her. "His name's Logan."

"Did he remind you of Franco?"

I shake my head no.

She doesn't question me further. She and I both knew I wouldn't break easily.

One step at a time.

♠♠♠

The dream starts the same.

I was in a car, the wind blowing into my face and hair. The car was thick with tension. I don't remember why. I don't remember who was driving.

The last thing I remember was a loud crash and a sharp pain in my head. I was screaming in pain before it all went black.

I remember being in the hospital. Someone was murmuring to me. This part was new.

There was wet water dripping on my face and hand. Was I crying? I don't remember. Something—or someone—grips my hand tightly. I feel a kiss on my hand, lips and forehead before feeling emptiness.

My eyes snap open. I groggily rub my eyes, yawning and stretching. I glance at the clock to see it was only four a.m.

I sigh out loud and stare up to the black ceiling. I grab my phone beside me and text the same number I always text but never got a reply from.

I type, I miss you. I wish you were here. Where are you? I'm sorry.

I'm always apologizing. I didn't know for what, just that I am. Losing my memory? That wasn't my fault.

The message delivered, as always. I fell asleep hoping I'd wake up to a text I knew would never come.