15 Minutes [h.s]

three

Harry

"Dimitri Morgan," her dying words sounded like faded whispers on my ear. So calm, yet less alive.

I then felt an intense pain on my head, falling back to see her and a silhouette of a laughing man with an unclear face standing before me. His laughter was becoming inaudible and her last ounce of breath was the only thing I could hear . . .

I bolt awake.

Where am I?

I took a look at my surroundings. I'm in a mattress. And this apartment. This place . . . seems familiar, yet I couldn't remember.

I then stood up to go to the nearest room.

A bathroom.

I went to the sink to look at my reflection. I look horrible. And what's this huge scar all over my head?

What did I do last night?

Maybe a splash of water on my face might help me remember. I went to turn the faucet on and beside it was a hand written note attached.

"TAKE OF YOUR SHIRT AND LOOK IN THE MIRROR"

Did I write that?

I then did what the sign told me to. I lift my shirt up. There I saw I have multiple tattoos spread across my body.

BEATRICE WAS KILLED

KILL DIMITRI MORGAN

MARCH 25, 2015

MORGAN - 084 234 5672

FIND HIM

KILL HIM

Just then, the memories came flooding back. Like they always do . . . every 15 minutes.

"She was killed, she was killed." I kept reminding myself before I forget again. I am aware of my memory loss. And every day is a suffering I have to endure.

Just then, everything came back in flashes. Everything was so unclear yet I can hear it. I can hear the sound. That hard clanking sound before her death, and before my healthy memory's demise.

I quickly ran out of the bathroom to check the place. This is the apartment. Our apartment.

This is the place where he killed her.

I then took notice of the walls and how most of the bright hues were covered in dark spray paint that spell the words: KILL MORGAN. KILL HIM. HE KILLED HER. HE KILLED HER. PLEASE REMEMBER.

I then felt that feeling again, the anger, the pain. I ran to a desk and rummaged through the stuff. It was full of documents, pictures, and writings that would help me remember. My polaroid camera sits on the side, I examined it to see there was a photograph underneath it. I looked at it to see a dead man with the word DONE written underneath.

It took me a while to remember that I killed someone last night.

He wasn't Dimitri. He wasn't. He didn't look like him in the other photographs.

I start to look and process the information that I knew wasn't new, yet my dysfunctional brain tells me it is. I threw a fit.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, angered by the memories that started to haunt me once more.

I quickly searched through my phone in the drawers. When I turned it on, there was a reminder on the home screen.

DIMITRI MORGAN,
SPEECH AT HOLMES CHAPEL COLLEGE OF MEDICINE
APRIL 3, 2018
2:00 PM

I looked at the calender attached to the wall, it was filled with massive red marks, but a date and a photo of Morgan attached was encircled on April 3rd with a note: KILL.

I checked my phone once more to know what date it was.

Today is April 3rd.

I then gathered my polaroid camera, some photographs, a pen and a pad. I wore the shirt I took off minutes ago. I shoved all of my items on my bag and rushed outside my apartment door.