Scattered and Broken, Book 3 of Wingless Series

Bittersweet

I always wondered what memories you could hold for a lifetime. If a person was absent from his or her lives for a huge amount of time could the memories come back? I watched the news about a young girl who was kidnapped and found nearly ten years later, and I thought how terrible it was for her. I wished with all of me I could be the fly on the wall to see in on how that would feel.

Was she able to adjust to being snatched from her happy life? Did all her memories fade away, and did survival take over and just put her in the present, or were they secretly locked up and ready for her when she needed them?

How can one live a full and rich life without some sort of loss of memories? If you remembered all your life, I thought how horrible a life you would lead. Maybe all our lives really were crappy and we were just living in the bliss that we created, almost like a pillow fort when we were kids we used the good memories to block out the actual world. A way to dive deep into the life we wanted, not the life we chose.

If I had to choose a life, I really didn't know how much of it I would choose, the part before Evan I could care to give up. I loved nothing more than the present I was in, I never admitted to anyone that I honestly felt really just hurt and flawed my whole life. It didn't take seeing abuse of many types. It took just feeling that I knew I should since a very young age.

I never let anyone in on the fact that I saw things that a lot of them probably hadn't even seen. My Mother didn't know that I constantly overheard her talking, and how at one time in her own life she thought the child she was carrying was not my father's because his own brother had raped her. That child was I, I remembered lying on the couch pretending to be asleep more numbness passing through me, trying to just digest another crumb of dysfunction.

Or how I was scared to death as a kid when my parents fought when I was eight in our kitchen, how I sat on the ground crying harder than a kid should cry when my Mother said she was leaving my Dad. I remembered the cigarette she threw right in his face. No matter how much it hurt me they didn't care. I begged Gray to come home from his sleepover for him to help me keep our parents together, and how he never did. I sat in my room that whole night crying myself to sleep.

No one secretly knew why I hated cats, it was a pathetic reason, but I once had one as a child that was given away and I was lied to. I was lied to and secretly once again overheard that my cat had been killed. Not a single person knew that I slept with a picture of my cat under my pillow for months crying myself asleep again.

There was one time in which I felt so mean and hateful I pushed the envelope on just plain nasty. I wanted to hurt others as much as I believed I was hurt. I told kids the most horrible stories just to get a rise out of them. It gave me power for a few moments before complete guilt set in.

Once I was a teen and pretty much over trying to be noticed, I secretly slipped away to cut myself to just feel something, I wanted to feel something and I never knew what is was I wanted to feel.

I felt sorry for myself for things I couldn't even imagine I always wondered what I did to deserve such sadness and emptiness. I always had it in my head that this wasn't what I was put there for, and I swore I would find a way to make myself happy because I didn't believe anyone understood what I did about the world. I believed in me, and then I met Nessa and I believed in her.

So memories to me were nothing more than useless, and the answer to do we remember things years later is absolutely. Sometimes we didn't know we were, other times memories came flooding back causing an overwhelming state of shock.