More or Less

Chapter 16 • Waterworks

(I just learned how to use links on the side, so yeah. The YouTube video is the dance bachata, which is used later in the story. The photo of the dress is what she wears.)

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Alisha's POV

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I turn away and grip the door nob, set on leaving this confusing situation. During my recovery, Dr. Helen made it clear that I should take one step at a time and not surround myself with unfamiliar things until I was comfortable. But him, this boy in front of me, is the farthest thing from familiar. I don't remember him and anything that I do remember, in general, doesn't include him at all.

But when he showed up last night and I've seen him with all those injuries, it struck a chord deep inside my heart. It was as if I could feel his pain. No, I did feel his pain, as if it was my own. Before I knew it, I was holding him, carrying him inside, and I felt a strange sense of de ja vu. Despite the lack of memory or how dangerous it could've been to take him in. I simply couldn't turn my back... something inside me screamed. I wanted nothing but to take care of him, to bring him back to life. I felt as though my life will cease to exist if he left it. I don't know why I felt like that, but I did.

Once I returned home, I couldn't remember anything at first.

I met my five sisters, but they might have well been complete strangers. The small, black-haired, Indian-looking woman who was at the hospital when I first woke up is my mother and the tall, Hispanic, beer-belly man she introduces me to is her husband, Goldo.

Without thinking, I asked her what happened to Mike. My 'sisters' widened their eyes, Goldo looked uncomfortable, and my mother was clearly embarrassed, but I didn't care. I had to know. She told me he wasn't in our life anymore and I'm almost sure she sugarcoated it. Something inside me said that he was taken from us, from me. I remember him so vividly. How he played Zelda with me because I hated playing Barbies with my sisters. I wasn't that kind of girl, I was one of the guys. I remembered how he'd buy me a million Sponge bob teddy bears and Goosebumps books. But the last thing I remember about him is the strangest thing. It's a door, a simple, dark brown door that screams at me to not open. Past that, my mind goes dark, a bottomless void, and no matter how far I reach into it, I find nothing. I'm heartbroken by this, he meant so much to me. I'm absolutely sure of it.

Next, I was bombarded by a huge, red-nose pit bull named Angel. I reached out to touch her and she immediately submitted, rolling over onto her back. I almost cried at the gesture because memories hit me like a truck. I remember my big, furry friend and her big, hazel eyes. I patted my chest and she gave me a hug, drowning my face with doggy kisses and I just held her tight. There was another dog, a black and white American Pit named Nevaeh, but I don't remember her. She's an aggressive little fellow though, bitten my foot when I gave Angel too much attention.

My room amazed me. The Naruto comics on the wall, the two big television sets that were stacked atop each other, an Xbox at the very top, a closet mirror with the lipstick marks all over the edges, the infinite amount of teddy bears scattered across my bunk beds, the impressive collection of makeup and hair product, a dusty guitar in the corner of the closet, and the box full of paper memorabilia. All these things were unrecognizable besides the Naruto comics and the guitar. I loved those things in Middle School, which is vivid before the 8th grade.

I picked up the guitar and wiped off the dust with a Kleenex. It's much smaller than what I bear in mind. My sister Taika told me that I don't play it anymore, but a voice in my head told me to try. I sat on the floor and my fingers began to have a mind of its own. I played everything that I've learned during Middle School. Hot cross buns, Titanic theme song, some song from The Lion King, and other tunes I've forgotten the name of. I felt so incredible and at home with myself as the notes filled the air that I played for hours. I remember vaguely that I always needed music sheets, but not this time, which was strange.