Broken (Brown Eyed Boy book 2)

Worse (Jessie and Carlos POV)

Jessie POV

            Not remembering anything was probably the worst thing to ever happen to me; at least from what I could remember which just made it all that much more frustrating. I went home with my parents that day and with Carlos' mom and sister, and when I was back in front of my house everything felt normal like nothing had happened. But then I stepped inside and there were all these confusing pictures that made me want to scream until my voice died out. There were graduation pictures with my parents that I didn't even understand because I didn't remember graduating high school and then there was a picture of me, Emmett and Carlos which made me even more confused. My brain kept yelling at me about how it seemed impossible for me to not remember my own graduation and not remember Carlos who had apparently been in my life even though I could swear I just met him. Seeing his smiling face so close to mine in that picture made me want to smile but at the same time made me want to cry. Why couldn't I remember him? Why couldn't I remember anything?

            Within two minutes of walking into my house and seeing those pictures I couldn't take it anymore and disappeared up to my room where I thought I could try and calm myself down. Boy, was I wrong. I opened the door and slammed it shut behind me just to turn to the rest of my room and feel the tears spill over. There was another picture of me, Emmett and Carlos on my dresser mirror with a picture of me, Carlos and Cassie taped under that one. In a frame on my bedside table was one of just me and Carlos and on my desk was one of Emmett, Cassie and Carlos. We all looked so happy in all of them that again I hated not remembering any of it and not remembering Carlos or Cassie when they were so obviously a huge part of my life. Without even thinking twice about it, I collected all the pictures and threw them in my closet, closing the door afterward so that I didn't even have to see the shape of them being there. Then I threw myself face down on to my pillow on my bed and cried for hours in confusion and sadness for myself and the people in my life.

            Now, it's been weeks since I came back from the hospital and while I don't cry as much I definitely don't feel a hundred percent okay with my situation. Everyone still tries to get me to remember things, with very little success, and the times when I don't remember I feel like I'm letting them all down and hurting them. Which unfortunately I seem to do more often than not. The only things I seemed to remember so far were minor details like a movie I went to with Emmett one day or babysitting Cassie a few afternoons. And that last one made me feel horrible because I didn't remember Carlos at all. Cassie told me about a time I had watched her at her house and we drew pictures in her room, which I actually remembered and remembered my picture was of something that could have been an imaginary friend on Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, but when she said Carlos came home and chased her around the house for drawing him as an alien I didn't remember any of it at all. And again I had to wonder why I didn't remember him, but had no answer.

            Both of our moms and Cassie tried telling me stories of when Carlos and I hung out but they couldn't remember all the details or they would confuse it with another time we hung out and by the time they were done I was even more confused then when they started. After a while they stopped trying to tell me and said that Carlos would do better when he got back from school and they just gave me a photo album that they said had pictures of us together. I never opened it though. It was hard as it was to remember him and I couldn't help but feel like I would be even more confused to see us smiling or having fun in a picture together without really knowing what had happened when we took it.

            Eventually the only one trying so hard to get me to remember anything was the therapist who I had to meet with three times a week. She made me close my eyes during her sessions while she tried to describe some memory my family had told her and sometimes they would take and sometimes they wouldn't. And sometimes there would be a funny in between. Like I was so close to remembering but then I tried so hard to remember that when she asked me to try and finish the story I completely blanked out. It was those moments that left me the most frustrated with myself.