Starlight

Chapter 1

Chapter One

The incident happened around four months ago. I remember waking up in the hospital not knowing what had happened to me. I remembered the party, I only had two drinks, something the cops had a hard time believing. How else could I forget an entire night, besides the concussion of course. Because memory loss with a head injury would be ridiculous.

I was released to go home after three nights in the hospital. The doctors diagnosed me with a fractured wrist, concussion, and of course, rape. As soon as I heard the word I stopped listening. I didn't need their apologies or condolences. I just wanted to forget it ever happened, but my college had different plans. Every time I entered a room, whispers would spread like wildfire. I couldn't escape them, I felt more trapped the longer I stayed. So I left.

Ryland was upset when I told her I wanted to drop out, but she understood. She did however say that I was still going to live with her so she could take care of me. For the first days after she made this proposal, I was completely against it. The point of me dropping out was that I could forget my past life, and Ryland was a part of that life. But I soon realized I couldn't live on my own, not with all the medications I had to juggle, along with paying for bills. So I stayed, but never talked about life four months ago. She did the exact same.

Once I dropped out I got a job as a waitress in a cafe downtown. It was owned by my aunt, my only living relative, who was quirky and cheerful. I used to be just like her, but after that night, I became quiet and withdrawn. I wasn't Drew, the girl who's smile can light up a room, I was Drew, the girl who hides under her hood and refuses to speak unless spoken to. This change shocked everyone at college, but not my aunt. She respected me enough to not ask why I dropped out or why I changed. She just offered me a job at the cafe and went on with her day.

I had made some friends, I wasn't completely closed off. Well, I made one, Tom, my savior. He was the person that found me and took me to the hospital. He told me that he was walking home from work when he saw my laying in the alley, completely unconscious. He stayed with me all three days in the hospital, then helped me go back home. He had dropped out of college the year before me, said it wasn't his cup of tea. Now he was a bartender at the local club all of my old classmates attend. That is the main reason I don't visit him at work. It's also why I work downtown, away from the college.

Tom and I spend almost all of our time together, he's my best friend. Ryland is still my friend and we still talk, but she doesn't really know what happened, most people don't. It's just Tom and my Aunt. My aunt because she is my family and was immediately notified when I was identified at the hospital. And Tom guessed based on my lack of clothing in the alley. Although I made him swear not to tell a soul. Ryland guessed, but I never told her a definite yes or no. It was better this way, even before it happened I hated people feeling sorry for me.

Tom never brings it up, I think he knows how much it hurts. Despite that he told me if he ever found out who did it he'd kill them. Tom was a pretty big guy and had a bad past, so I wouldn't put it past him. Besides, the police aren't doing anything anyways. They took my statement, looked at the doctor's notes, then told me that since I had been drinking they couldn't fully trust my statement. It also didn't help that I didn't remember anything.

I had tried only a couple of times in these last couple of months to remember what had happened. But every time I remember the man grabbing me, I stop. I get to scared about the big question, what if I do remember? I have a feeling my brain chose to block it out, and that the memory loss wasn't just because of the concussion, Whatever I end up remembering might be worse than never remembering at all.

But I do want to catch the guy that did this. The police used the excuse that since I couldn't remember my attackers face or the incident, there was nothing that they could do. So logically I should be trying to remember, but I never can. Tom and Auntie help me as much as I can. Auntie keeps my mind focused, and Tom doesn't say anything at all. The first couple of months I really appreciated them keeping their distance.

But now that it has been awhile, I find myself wanting to talk through it. Not remember exactly, just sort through these thoughts in my head out loud. Auntie would apologize and try sympathizing with me, which would only make it worse. Tom would get all awkward and not know a thing about what I'm talking about. And Ryland, well she is Ryland. She'd listen, then try everything in her power to get me to remember.

I find myself doing this often, just thinking. It's half the reason I'm so quiet. I don't have anything to say, well, anything relevant to say. I wish my mother were still alive. She would know exactly how to help. My mother was a therapist, even when I was little she'd find little ways to help me. Like signing me up for girl scouts and theater so I would come out of my shell. Or when she would help me with homework and mess up on purpose, just so I could correct her and feel good about myself.

I miss her, and I know Auntie does too. We all lived together above the cafe, since my father was nowhere to be found. Mom never talked about him, neither did Auntie, but I don't even know if she actually ever met him. I had lived with Auntie for as long as I could remember. But when my mother died, I left for college because I couldn't take the pain of living in the cafe. But now I welcome it with open arms, and the cafe welcomes me with open doors. When I walk in it feels like my mother is back, hugging me, and telling me how her day was. It became home, even though I didn't live there.

I hated my name growing up. My mother always said she named me after my father. I would always respond with an eye roll and a glare, followed by the same question. Why did you name me after a man? Especially one that left you? My mom would just smile and respond with the same thing every time. 'Because what a beautiful man he was, beautiful just like you'. That was all she ever said about him. His name and how beautiful he was. But since I look nothing like my mother it makes sense that I probably look like him. My mom, tan skin with thick dark hair that was always in a bun. She grew up in Florida, but moved to New York, claiming she didn't enjoy the sun. Auntie moved with her, and in a club she met my father, Drew. He was a bartender who could never seem to land a real job. But that's all I know. I assume he'd look like me, pale with light brown hair. My mom looked like a supermodel, but I just looked out of place, especially next to her. The one trait I got from my mom, her bright green eyes. The only part of me that is unique. On my mother they contrasted her dark skin and her, but on me, they are the only thing that seemed just right. Even if people say I look like an alien or that I wear colored contacts. To me, they worked. And they give me comfort, since they are the only part of me that hasn't changed. Every time I look in the mirror, the first thing I see, my mother's eyes.

Despite everything that has happened, I still find myself wondering about my father, does he know I exist? If he did would he look for me? Where the hell has he been if he knew who I was? I have no idea who or where he is. All I have is his name, Drew. My Auntie thought naming me Drew was stupid, just like I thought, but my mother was insistent. When I was little I wanted to change my name to Winnie, Aunties name and my middle name. But my mother told me it was important to not hide who I am. She said that everyone is their own someone, take pride in who you are. But how could I do that when I had no idea who I am.

I know the basics of me. My name is Drew Winifred Barrow, and I am twenty years old. My mother died when I was eighteen in a car crash. I live with my roommate Ryland but spend most of my time with my aunt and Tom. I'm short, only five foot two, with a slim figure and long, light brown hair. I never met my father or know what he was like. I was mugged and raped four months ago and the police stopped investigating three months ago. And I constantly feel completely alone.

But who am I? I have no idea what my culture is, I have only ever known have of the equation that created me. I don't even act or look like the half I do know. My life is wreck, even before the attack.

And the whispers that follow me around like a shadow prove that. They existed long before four months ago, even before my mother died two years ago. The girl with no father, and no identity.

Please vote if you enjoyed!