Luke's Diary: An unlucky man in a zombie apocalypse. Days 601 - 756

Day 745: Monday 10th September 2018

https://www.facebook.com/150585268715788/posts/521945311579780/

Day 745
Monday 10th September 2018

Well I met Naomi at the crypt but she wasn't alone, things took a really dark and sinister turn and I'm sat at home on the sofa now, trying to take in what I've been told . . .

I woke up about 5am covered in sweat and gasping for air. I had ANOTHER weird dream but this was REALLY, REALLY weird. In my dream I was sat in my usual chair in the usual depressing room when all of a sudden the door to the room opened and the mysterious hooded woman, dressed in black was stood there. I looked up with intrigue and waited for the woman to say something, but she never uttered a word. Instead she did something with totally freaked me out and caused me to wake up and bolt upright in bed, feeling completely traumatised. The woman stood in the door, opened up her right hand, produced what looked like a piece of paper and showed it to me. I frowned with confusion and squinted as I took a closer inspection. It was a five pound note with the Queen's face sporting glasses and a silly beard. It was the same one I'd given Naomi yesterday. This was freaky – totally freaky. The woman then produced a black marker pen and drew a thick line from the left-hand side of the note to the right. I can't remember how the dream version of me felt but the real me woke up feeling utterly shocked.

Unable to get back to sleep I went downstairs, made me myself some tea and tried to figure what I'd just been dreaming about. I started talking to myself to try and understand what had just happened. "I draw on the note," I said, "I give it to Naomi and then the same note appears in my dream with this weird woman. How the Hell is that possible?" I paced up and down the living room trying to figure out what had happened. After a few moments I calmed down and convinced myself I was being stupid. "Hang on," I said to myself, "This is daft. It is NOT possible for something that I've given to someone, to appear in a dream. Just because I was dreaming about the fiver that I gave to Naomi, does not mean it's the same fiver, I'm dreaming. That's impossible. Naomi's obviously still got that fiver. Jesus, what's wrong with me?" I managed to convince myself that it was all some weird coincidence, telling myself that just because I had a cup of tea before going to bed, doesn't mean that exact same come has appeared in my dreams if I end up dreaming about drinking tea. It was all pretty freaky and it was all a lot more important than I realised as I discovered later on . . .

I went to work, caught up on some paperwork and apart from dealing with some boys who were throwing stones at cars it was a pretty box-standard day. My mind was still on the weird dream and I was thinking about what Naomi said yesterday and about our secret meeting later on. I was really anxious at the thought of Caroline finding out, but I told myself that I was all harmless and that I just had to make sure she didn't find out. I told Caroline that I'd be working late, that I'd sort my own dinner out and that there was no need for her to wait up for me.

I arrived at the cemetery about five to eight and walked over to the crypt; a small, eerie looking, weather worn structure with stone gargoyles on each side. I looked at my watch and anxiously started pacing around waiting for Naomi to appear. The second the hand on my watch struck eight the entire area around me as plunged into darkness. I gasped, turned 360 degrees on the spot and quickly scanned the area. The atmosphere suddenly turned rather creepy. "Luke, quick, over here," a voice said. I turned around to see Naomi stood in the doorway of the crypt. "What are you doing?" I exclaimed. "Just get over here," snapped an insistent Naomi, "Come on, don't p*ss about." Feeling annoyed and confused I walked over to the crypt, where Naomi grabbed my arm, pulled me inside and quickly closed the heavy wooden doors.

Inside the crypt was a rather feisty smell and it was pitch black dark. "What the Hell is going on?" I asked in frustration, "Did you make the power go out?" "Not me," I said, "That was Anne." "Anne?" I exclaimed, "Who the f*ck is Anne? And why have you brought me into some dark, creepy crypt? I can't see my hand in front of my face." "Shut up," said Naomi, "I'm sorting it." A few moments later after some rattling and tinkering about, the room lit up to reveal a small neglected area, covered in dust and cobwebs. In the middle of the room was a large stone slab and towards the back of the room was some sort of small archway. Naomi was stood next to me holding a lantern which was filling the room with light. "What are you playing at?" I angrily snapped at Naomi, "Getting me out at this time of night and dragging me into some creepy crypt. What's wrong with you? Are you TRYING to get me in the divorce courts?" "I knew you'd come," said Naomi, "What did you tell Caroline?" "None of your business," I snapped, "Now what the f*ck is this all about?" Caroline looked towards the back of the crypt. "He's on his own you can come out," said Naomi. I frowned with confusion, looked toward the back of the crypt and saw someone step out from underneath the arch. My nostrils flared, my eyes widened and my jaw dropped open as a cold shiver ran down my spine. It was the mysterious hooded woman dressed in black. "Oh my God," I said, as my entire body became covered in Goosebumps, "Get me out of here." I started banging against the door, desperately trying to find a way of getting out. Naomi tried to calm me down, but my panic increased as the mysterious woman was slowly walking towards me. "Get back!" I yelled at her, "Stay away from me! NAOMI FOR F*CK'S SAKE – GET ME OUT OF HERE!" The mysterious woman, now only a few inches away from me, suddenly waved something in front of my face. It was a five pound note, but not just any five pound note. It was the five pound note that I'd scribbled on and given to Naomi; the same five pound note that I dreamed about last night, that this same mysterious woman drew a line on with a permanent marker. I stopped my yelling, grabbed hold of the five pound note and looked at it in absolute shock. "Oh my God," I gasped, slowly raising my head and looking at the mysterious hooded woman, "Who are you?" The woman lowered her hood to reveal a woman in her late fifties with short, bobbed brown hair. She gave me a warm smile and for some reason I instantly trusted her and felt safe. "I'm Anne," said the woman, "Anne Sutton, but it's best you don't tell anyone outside this crypt that you've met me." "You were the one who posted me that note telling me to look in the background," I said, still feeling shocked, "You were in the background in the newspaper. You wanted me to see you. You were in my dream. In my ACTUAL dream. You had this fiver – this exact fiver in my dream. How is that even possible?" "We don't have long," said Anne, "I know you've probably got lots of questions, but the power will come back on in about twenty minutes. It gives us longer than we had last time but we need to be quick." "Last time?" I exclaimed, "What do you mean, last time?" "We've met before," said Anne, "Nine days ago." "Err . . . No," I assertively said, "I've never met you before in my life. The only place I've ever seen you before is in my dreams." "You have met me before," said Anne, "But you've forgotten." "You what?" I said, starting to get really annoyed, "I think I'd remember meeting someone like you." "Not if you had your memories altered," said Anne. "Memories altered?" I angrily exclaimed, "What are you talking about?" "Luke, just listen to her," said Naomi. "You think you have lived in this town your whole life," said Anne, "You haven't. You appeared in this town eighteen days ago after an organisation called ACROBAT tampered with your memories in an attempt to make you believe you were born and raised here. Their first attempt at altering your memories didn't work so they eventually apprehended you, this time successfully altering your memories resulting in you believing that you have lived here in Feemh Oak all of your life. The truth is that you have been here for eighteen days." A tense silence lingered. I took a step back, raised my eyebrows and pointed at Anne. "You're mad," I assertively, "Off your f*cking head." "I know it's hard to believe," said Anne, "But I am speaking the truth." "No you're not!" I loudly exclaimed, "ACROBAT are a pharmaceutical company, not some undercover James Bond baddy sh*t, and I KNOW that I have lived here all of my life. I met my wife here, we got married here; we had our son here. You're talking cr*p." "Then why are there no pictures of the happiest days of your life anywhere in your house?" asked Anne. There was a short pause. I tried to think. Nothing made sense. I was getting a headache as I desperately tried to make sense of things.  "Oh God, just shut up," I stressfully snapped, "So the photos have gone missing. It doesn't mean anything." "The photos haven't gone missing," said Anne, "The photos were never there. You just had fake memories implanted that told you they were there when in fact they never were. In reality you and your wife have been divorced for a number of years and she is now a lesbian and in a relationship with a woman called Roz." I gasped with laughter. "You're off your head," I said, "My wife is NOT a lesbian. We've been married for ages, we . . ." I stopped talking as I suddenly remembered that I mentioned the name Roz a day or so ago. "What?" asked Naomi, "Luke what is it?" "Just leave him," said Anne, "I think he's remembering." A short pause lingered. "No!" I loudly snapped, "This is b*llocks." I turned and angrily pointed at Naomi. "This is her isn't it?" I snapped, "Dragging her into all of her f*cked up weird mind games." "Look," snapped Naomi, "I don't fully understand all this but I'm trying to help you." "You're doing what you always do," I snapped, "Trying to cause me trouble." "Luke," said Anne, "ACROBAT may know a thing or two about pharmaceuticals but they are a very large organisation whose primary focus is on chemical research and biological abnormalities. They develop viral weapons and conduct all manner of . . . Well . . . Let's just say, sinister experiments." "What are you on about?" I exclaimed, "They make pain killers and headache tablets." "That's the memories they've put in your head," said Anne. "Oh God!" I loudly and angrily said, "No one has put any memories in my head, you f*cking mad b*tch." Anne produced some photos and plonked them down on the stone slab in the middle of the room. I frowned with confusion, glanced at the photos and then looked back at Anne. "What's this?" I asked. "Have a look at them?" said Anne. I picked up the photos and started flicking through them. This was strange. All of the photos were pictures of me in and around the town centre. One was of me making a citizen's arrest; one was of me in a coffee shop with Harold and Mia; one was of me and Richard splitting up a fight between Naomi and Caroline outside the school. "They're all of me," I said, sounding confused, "But none of this happened. I don't get it." "All of it happened," said Anne, "You've just forgotten. You're lucky Naomi had a little bit of an obsession with you, otherwise we wouldn't have these photos as proof." "Proof of what?" I asked. "Proof that you have had your memories altered," said Anne. I continued flicking through the photos. All of them were of me doing something that I have no memory of doing. I found all of this strange but my confusion was quickly replaced with anger. "No way," I snapped, throwing the photos on the floor, "This is b*llocks. You've photo shopped them or something." "Luke," said Anne, in a gentle tone, "You know that's not true. You're here today because you did as Naomi asked. You searched for photos, you looked in magazines, you went through the TV channels. You looked hard and your brain told you something didn't add up." There was a slight pause as I tried to understand what Anne was telling me. "Sorry but I'm totally confused," I said, "I don't get what's going on around here." "OK," said Anne, "Let me explain, Two years ago there was an outbreak of a virus called the E-Virus, developed by the CEO of ACROBAT Harold Endo." "Harold!?" I loudly exclaimed. "He isn't who you think he is," said Anne, "Those who became infected died but quickly came back to life with a vicious urge to kill and eat anyone who wasn't infected. The virus spread, the world's population rapidly plummeted your friends Mia, TJ, Naomi, Lindon and Trudy, who you think you have known for years, you met two years ago in a sexual health clinic when the outbreak occurred." "You what?!" I loudly said. "Luke, just let her talk," said Naomi. "Over the last two years you've been trying to stay alive and survive the apocalypse and on your journey you met Tara, Parrissa, Mike, Richard and others who died, and you became reunited with your ex-wife who informed you that you had a teenage son called Kyle and she was in a lesbian relationship with a woman called Roz. You were reunited with Caroline and found out you had a son only a few weeks ago when you all took refuge in a zoo. That's when ACROBAT manipulated a fellow survivor called Thomas and made him bring your son Leo, Trudy and TJ's son Primark and Naomi's granddaughter Sophie here, knowing you'd all go to any lengths to get your children back." "Sorry," I said, in shock, "You're telling me I've got ANOTHER son?" "An eight month old boy called Leo," said Anne, "Once you all left the zoo, ACROBAT used knock out gas to collect you all and bring you here to Feemh Oak; a self-contained town developed by ACROBAT to test out various options of how the human race could survive during or after an apocalypse. You and your friends have been here for eighteen days." "No," I snapped, "I've lived here all my life. Naomi, tell her." "Luke, I don't know," said Naomi, "The more I think about it; the more I remember all this stuff. Can you remember a man called Alex?" "No," I said, "Look I don't know what's going on here or why you're making all this sh*t up, but I've lived in Feemh Oak all of my life." "That's impossible," said Anne, "The town was only built two and half years ago." "No. It wasn't," I snapped, "My Mum brought me up here." "That's another fake memory talking," said Anne. "This is crazy," I snapped, "It doesn't make any sense." "Luke, get your mobile phone out," said Anne. I looked at her and gave her a confused and frustrated look. "Please," said Anne, "Just do it." I produced my phone from my pocket. "Now look at the calls you've made and received," she said. I did as I was instructed. "OK," I said, "What's your point?" "Look," said Anne, "The only calls you've made or received have occurred within the last few days." "That doesn't mean anything!" I loudly exclaimed, "I could have deleted them all." "Why would you delete your made and received calls from a few days ago but not your recent ones?" asked Naomi. "Oh God," I snapped, "I don't know do I? Look, this is all just b*llocks." Naomi picked up the photos and aggressively waved them in front of my face. "And what about these?" she snapped, "Are these all b*llocks?" "Luke, this town is not how it seems," said Anne, "You have memories of getting married here in Feemh Oak, but there are no photos of you getting marries in Feemh Oak because you didn't get married here. The programmes on TV and the pictures in the magazine aren't up-to-date because the celebrities and actors died in the apocalypse. You didn't make any phone calls a few weeks ago, but you weren't here a few weeks ago – you didn't have a phone a few weeks, you were trying to survive the apocalypse." "I think I'd remember trying to survive an apocalypse," I bluntly said. "No," said a firm Anne, "Not if your memories have been altered – which they have." "Luke, she's just told you, you've got a baby son, I've got a baby granddaughter," exclaimed Naomi, "Aren't you bothered?" "Your Auntie is alive too," said Anne, "Your Auntie Meryl is with Mike, Roz, Primark, Sophie and your son Leo." I paused and gave Anne a furious glare. "God you're sick," I snapped, "I have absolutely no idea how you're doing this or why you're even doing this, but using my dead Auntie against me? That's f*cked up. If you were a bloke I'd punch your lights out." I turned and looked at Naomi. "You don't believe all this sh*t do you?" I snapped. "Well she said she'd met you before," said Naomi, "So I was hoping you could convince me." "I've never met the b*tch before in my life," I exclaimed. "Yes you have," said a firm Anne, "You may not remember but you have definitely met me." "OK!" I loudly exclaimed, "Let's say I believe all this cr*p. Why would a big organisation select me and my mates to be shoved in some purpose built town and have our memories messed with? Why?" "To monitor you," said Anne, "Don't you think there's rather a lot of cameras for a town this size? ACROBAT have various options that they need to test out to see which one is the best way of the human race surviving an apocalypse long term. One option is to build a town, fill it with clones and introduce real people who have survived the apocalypse but have had their memories altered so they think the apocalypse never happened." "Clones?" I bluntly said. "That's right," said Anne, "Apart from your loved ones everyone in this town is a clone. ACROBAT have phenomenal technology. All of the people you see walking around are clones of people who died during the apocalypse. They have their memories and they have other memories and like you, they have fake memories implanted by the MMM – Memory Manipulation Machine." "So, you're telling me that most of the people in the town are clones?" I bluntly said. Anne nodded. "Many of them are duplicates," she said, "ACROBAT have taken dead bodies, cloned them and then duplicated the clones. If you REALLY look you'll see that the population of Feemh Oak is not made up of thousands of individuals. It's made up of a few dozen clones, all of whom have been duplicated multiple times and given different identities. All clones have a small long digit number on the back of their neck." "That's definitely true," said Naomi, "That's why I told you to look, yesterday. I've been looking. My boss, my next door neighbour, the post man, the girl who works in Starbucks; they've all got numbers on the back of their necks. I even noticed that my postman and the bus driver are the same person – like, EXACTLY the same." "Sorry," I bluntly said, "But don't you think at some point over the last thirty odd years I'd have noticed loads of people looking the same with numbers on the back of their necks?" "Three things," said Anne, "One, you haven't been here years, two, the numbers are very small and three, when your memories were altered you were injected with a chemical developed by ACROBAT called AIC – the awareness impairment chemical. It means you notice things but you don't REALLY notice. Your brain just tells you it doesn't matter." "Sorry but all this sounds like some weird sci-fi movie plot," I bluntly said. "Didn't you look at anyone's neck?" asked Naomi. "Just Caroline's," I said. "Well next time look at other people's necks," said Anne, "You will see I'm right." "So," I said, "You're telling me that my wife is a lesbian, we've really been divorced for years, I only found out about Kyle a few weeks ago, I've got a baby, that Harold is some sort of mad scientist, that we survived some sort of apocalypse and that we've had our memories tampered with and are now being used as some sort of guinea pigs in this weird experiment?" "I appreciate it's a lot to take in," said Anne. "Why would we need our memories altered?" I snapped. "ACROBAT want to test out if actual survivors are able to function in society more effectively with no memory of the apocalypse, compared to having their memories intact," said Anne, "It's not something I agree with me." "But if this so-called apocalypse is over why don't we just get on with our lives like normal people?" I asked. "The apocalypse is not over," said Anne. I looked at Anne like she was some sort of nutter. "Err . . .  Yeah it is," I bluntly said, "Step outside. People aren't running around trying to eat each other." "Not in Feemh Oak," said Anne, "But the world outside is full of infected." "No it's not," I exclaimed, "Me and TJ drove to Milton Keynes a few weeks ago. There was no virus or people running around trying to kill each other. . . Oh don't tell me; that's another fake memory is it?" "Exactly," said Anne, nodding, "The outbreak is happening out there right now. If someone dies, they return to life, infected and hungry for flesh." "If all this is true, which seriously doubt, then how come there's no infected here? How come this virus hasn't spread to Feemh Oak. If there's people running around eating each other out there, how come they haven't reached here?" "You're not outside," said Anne, "You're inside." "What do you mean?" I asked. "This town was not built outside," said Anne, "It was built deep underground inside ACROBAT's facility known as The Base." "Hang on," I said, "You're telling me that when I leave this crypt and go outside that I'm not really outside?" "That's right," said Anne, "Have you ever seen any planes flying by or any birds in the sky? The answer is no. You're basically living in a very big box with a very tall ceiling. That's why the infected can't get in. The sky is fake, the atmosphere has been created and if anyone tries to leave Feemh Oak, ACROBAT just grab hold of them and alter their memories making them think they DID leave when in reality they didn't. Anyway, there's still a lot that's unknown about the virus. Most people catch it when they're bitten by an infected but some people die from natural causes or by getting involved in some horrific accident and they still come back to life as an infected." "Well what does that mean?" I asked, "Does that mean this virus is in the air?" "Like I said," said Anne, "There's still a lot that isn't known about the virus. We don't even know how it got out, but what it means that when people in Feemh Oak die, they should come back and turn into an infected." "Well I've never seen any infected around here," I said. "That's because no one here has died yet," said Anne, "Your memories might tell you there have been funerals in Feemh Oak but there hasn't." "How do you know all this stuff?" I asked. There was a short silence. "Because I work for ACROBAT," said Anne. "Sorry?" I bluntly said, "You work for the organisation that you say is responsible for this whole mess?" "I know it sounds bad, but I haven't been happy with ACROBAT for ages," said Anne, "None of us have." "None of us?" I said, "There's more of you?" "Yes, there's a few of us," said Anne, "We're not happy about the methods used by our employer or how they've treated you." "So why do you give a toss about us?" I asked. "I just want to do the right thing," said Anne, "ACROBAT said they'd look after my sister Alfreda. They didn't. Do you remember her?" "How the frig would I remember her?" I asked. "Look, I have been made to do some terrible things working for ACROBAT," said Anne, "Perhaps helping you is my way of trying to put things right." "Fancy yourself as some sort of super hero do you?" I said. "What's in it for you?" I snapped, "In fact who the bl**dy Hell are you anyway? Lurking around all cloak and dagger and turning up in people's dreams. Are you some sort of weird super hero?" "Hardly," giggled Anne, "I'm just 59 year old Anne Sutton from Weeton near Blackpool. I used to be an ordinary woman. I worked at Morrisons, had a grown up daughter, a cat called Elvis. Life was pretty run of the mill. Then I got a job at ACROBAT and my life was never the same." "So why are you telling us all this?" I said, "I mean what are we supposed to do about it?" "There's a way in which everyone's memory can be restored back to how it was before you all came to Feemh Oak. You'll remember everything that happened in Feemh Oak but you'll know it was all manipulation but I need your help. ACROBAT suspect someone is trying to sabotage this experiment so they're watching me like a hawk." "Well what can we do?" asked Naomi. "Harold and Rick," said Anne. "Rick?" I said, "My boss. The mayor. What's he got to do with everything?" "He's a clone," said Anne, "The real Rick died, but the Rick you know has the real Rick's memories. He and Harold developed Feemh Oak and they also created the MMM. They know how to use the MMM to create a signal that can be broadcast across Feemh Oak restoring your memories. It will kill the clones but I guess it's a small price to pay." "Killing people?" said Naomi. "They're not people," said Anne, "Not really. They're just copies." "Yeah but they're living, walking, talking people with memories," said Naomi, "For all intense and purposes, they are real." "Christ just shut up," I snapped, "This is all too much for me to take in. How do we know this isn't all just some weird game to you?" "Luke," said a firm Anne, "I have shown you pictures, highlighted evidence, made you realise that something is going on here. I've told you all about the apocalypse. If you still don't believe me look on the backs of people's necks, find a way of flying into the sky and see for yourself that's it not real. Christ Luke, the name Feemh Oak is an anagram of FAKE HOME. What more proof do you need?" All of a sudden we could hear the electric starting to turn back on outside. "The power's coming back on," said Anne, "I need to leave and you two have to go." Anne started walking back towards the back of the crypt near the arch. "Hang on," I said, "You haven't told me how you've been able to get inside my dreams? I need to know. Tell me. How did you do all that five pound note sh*t?" "There isn't time," said Anne, "I need to get back before they miss me. You need to find a way to get Rick or Harold to restore the memories. Don't let them tell you it can't be done. It can. I'll be in touch." Anne disappeared through the arch and it sounded like she went through a door. "NO, WAIT!" I shouted. Naomi grabbed hold of me and dragged me outside just as the power returned and the lampposts lit up the area.

Naomi and I sat on one of the nearby benches and soaked up what we had just been told. "You OK?" she said. "No," I bluntly said, "My head is spinning." "Do you believe her?" asked Naomi. "I don't know what to believe," I said, "When I came here to meet you I didn't really know to expect but I didn't expect this." "So we've only known each other a couple of years," said Naomi. "But we've known each other for years," I said. "Fake memories," said Naomi, "According to Anne I had a husband called Seth, watched him get killed, got pregnant by him, lost the baby when my long lost daughter turned up and accidentally killed it, watched my daughter die when she got infected, found out she was pregnant, then me and you cut her open, took out her baby and then killed it when we found it was infected." "What the f*ck?" I exclaimed, "You don't believe all that sh*t do you? It sounds like a bl**dy soap opera. There's no way you'd go through all that and not remember it." "Well what about you?" said Naomi, "Lesbian wife, secret sons, Auntie Meryl not being dead?" "I should have asked her to prove to me that Auntie Meryl was still alive," I said, "For all we know, Anne's the one trying to create false memories." "I don't think so," said Naomi, "You saw those photos. They were real. Anyway there's all the clone stuff to. This whole place is fake." "But it feels so real," I said, "Maybe we should just forget about all this. I'm happy enough with my life, aren't you?" "With your wife turning the town against me and spreading lies about me?" said a sarcastic Naomi, "Yeah I'm over joyed." "Well she can't know we've been together," I said. "Don't worry," said Naomi, "I'll keep my mouth shut." "We should have asked that Anne what memories we'll get back if everything's restored," I said, "Do you know, this is too much to take in. Now I'm thinking about it I really think we should just forget about what just happened." "What?" exclaimed Naomi, "You're not serious?" "Yeah I am actually," I said, "I've got a wife who loves me, a son who looks up to me, a great job; a nice house. Why would I want to change anything? Life is good for me." "Well life isn't good for me you selfish pr*ck," snapped Naomi, standing up and frowning at me. "What's up?" I asked, feeling surprised at Naomi's reaction. "What's up?" exclaimed Naomi, "You sit there telling me how great you've got it without a thought as to how I feel. I wanted you to leave your wife and be with me. I wanted us to have a life together but all I get from you is rejection after rejection after rejection. Caroline keeps spreading rumours about me, I've lost all my friends, I can't walk down the street without someone giving me sheepish looks and whispering about me. I hate my job, I have no family and I live in that sh*tty flat on my own. You go home to your precious wife and your perfect little life. You might not want things to change, but I do and I'm going to go home and think about how I can make it all happen." Naomi stormed off. I called after her but she continued marching off in a huff.

I'm at home now and just about to get ready for bed. I have no idea what to make of all that stuff Anne told me. Part of me thinks there's definitely something strange going on and another part of me wants to just forget all about it. So what if ACROBAT have shoved us all in this fake town underground. If there's infected running around up there then maybe it's for the best we're all down here with no memory of what happened. I know Anne told me I have another son but I don't know if I believe her and as far as I'm concerned I have no memory at all of ever having a baby. There's definitely some truth in what Anne said but I also think she's lying and not telling us the whole picture. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced something strange is going on but I'm also convinced that keeping quiet and just getting on with things might be for the best. Like I told Naomi, life is good. I don't want to change that. I've got a lot of happy memories. Why would I want to change them? The idea that someone might have f*cked with my head makes me feel angry but I'm not totally convinced that my head has actually been f*cked with. A few dodgy photos and some weird claims by a mad woman in a hood is hardly solid proof. If anyone's trying to f*ck with my head it's that weird Anne. I just hope Naomi doesn't do anything too hasty. . . .