The Pain of Forgetting

Chapter 1

Everything was dark. Where I am continues to be a mystery. All I can remember is a man pushing me down with a hit to the face. I woke with no purse nor phone and no idea where I was. I have been struggling for what feels like hours to find another human to help me. Sadly, all I can find that could have been useful, is an old broken phone booth. My dad would have said to appreciate this moment and think of the different ways you could have gotten here. He always thought that moments like these, when you and everything you know is lost, was the moment people truly found themselves. Fascination filled him at times like these, but I was always terrified of being lost, I needed him right now. 

Never have I been or even considered going into a bar, but it seemed to be the only place within a mile that could possibly help me. I feel a pain in my right ankle, still I make my way to a run down bar. From 10 feet away I can here the blasting music. With a little push the black chipped door squeaks open. The smokey room smells like beer and cigarettes, mostly men sit in the empty room with a single woman behind the bar. Slowly, and filled with fear I walk into the pub, and thankfully no one seems to notice me. I slide into an elevated chair at the bar and clear my throat, though I am unsure if I still have the strength to speak, “Um, Hello.” My voice is weak.

“Can I help you?” she had a Canadian accents, I guess she seemed nice.

“Yes, um could I barrow a phone?” I ask, my voice still quiet.

She looked at me for a moment and smiled, “oh why of course, one minute please.” “Wait” my voice a bit stronger, “Where are we”. She looked at me for approximately 4 seconds before answering with a light laugh, “Jackson’s Pub, just outside of Brooklyn.” 

She comes back about 2 minutes later with an old phone, but I guess useable.

I dial my best friend Skye, in hopes that he will answer at 2 in the morning. It rings a while, “Hello?”  his voice is raspy, I must have woken him up. “Skye! I need your help. Can you come pic me up at Jackson’s Pub please. Im not sure what town but I’m sure its not far just google it.” It takes him 6 seconds to respond, “Ya, sure, I’ll get there when I get there. Get comfy it might be a bit, knowing traffic at this time.” I crack a smile but don’t have the energy to laugh. “okay” then I hang up the phone. 

About 3 guys sit in the bar, on an old sofa. Not intending to make any conversation I quietly sit on a pillow, hoping they won’t notice me because of being to caught up in the soccer game. While trying to make as little movement as possible to prevent drawing attention to my self, I look about the bar. The poor lighting makes the walls look a dark blue color with some white paint here and there, scrapes and chips of missing wood take there place on the bar counter, most likely from past drunks fighting. I sit on a soft rug that seems to have many stains and dirt. “Your in the way of my soccer game” I hear a man with a possible Australian accent chuckle. “Oh I'm sorry”. I turn to look at him. Curly, brown hair drapes over his hazel, possibly green eyes, again horrid lighting. I observe him a bit longer, then I notice dimples, he is officially attractive, but bad attitude. “You can sit on the couch you know. I won’t bite.” He smirks, but I glare at him and stand up from the surprisingly comfy pillow, I don’t loose eye contact until I sit down on the sofa next to him, not to close. 

About 2 minutes later he sadly, speaks again. “So, whats your name?” I glare at him again, I have no interest in him having that information, but my father always told me not to be rude, unless it was a funny come back, I couldn't come up with one at the moment, “Charlie” I mumble. “Cute. I’m Ashton, Now what brings you here?” he smiles. Like he has any business in that either, “um my legs.” It wasn't like i was going to tell him what really happened, I don’t even know what happened. “Your funny. I like you.” I look at him emotionless and blink. “Can I buy you a drink?” He looks at me for 3 seconds waiting for an answer. Simply, I just want him to stop talking to me. “Um. A root beer is fine.” I put on a cheesy smile, he raises an eyebrow. “As you wish.”  He gets up an leave for the counter. 

Finally, the door creaks open and I see a tall skinny red headed boy, Skye. “Skye! thank god!” I run to him and latch my short body to his chest. “Ya, ya. Now lets go I need to sleep.”

I turn to see Ashton. “Are you leaving? Who is this?” he asked concerned. “Yes I am leaving. This is my roommate. Thanks” I politely take the root beer from his hand. “Boyfriend?”  he says lightly. Skye interrupts, “I like dick bro.” Ashton seems to be relieved. I smile and wave, rushing out of that place.