The Knife Thrower

Chapter 11

I open the box carefully and inside is a long needle resting on white cotton. The needle is filled with a hazy-green liquid that looks thick and gluggy. With sweaty hands I talk out the dust-covered needle and position it over a vain in my neck. I jab it into my neck, biting my lip from the pain. I wait till all the liquid dissapears before removing the needle. I rub my stinging neck and use the back of my hand to wipe away the blood droplets.

Images fly past my eyes, images that I assume are memories. I feel a searing pain behind my eyes as i stand under the fluorescent lights of the hospital. I see my fourth birthday where I am hugging a pink teddy bear, feelings of longing and awe rolling over me. I see Izzy as a baby, sitting on my mothers lap.

Now I'm in the memory, no longer watching it but being in it. A boy with blue eyes, straight brown hair, freckles and a wide grin as he grabs my hand and pulls me after him. I shriek with laughter as we run through woods together towards the cliff. He grips my hand tight as I stumble after him on short legs like his own. We reach the cliff edge, panting from the long run, and I catch my breath. What a beautiful view.

The sun beats down over the town, wind lightly wiping our hair into our faces. We stand on the very edge, holding hands and taking in the view. I can see everything from here, even the end of the earth. I feel free. The wind picks up and blows my hair, my clothes, out behind me. If I look down I can see a pool of water very far away, only a splash of blue in the barren land. Up ahead is the town and further out the suburbs. Past that... I don't know. At some point there would a vast ocean, then other continents. But until then, no one knows.

The boys lets go of my hand and spreads his arms out, shutting his eyes. I do the same and it feels like I'm flying. I laugh and open my eyes, turning to face him.

All of a sudden the earth rumbles, throwing me to the ground. Earthquake.

I dizzily try to stand, reaching out to take his hand. His eyes mirror the same fear in my own and he stretches his hand out too, but we are just out of reach. He is lying slightly further in front of me, closer to the edge. His fingertips brush mine and I scream as the edge of the cliff breaks off, taking him with it.

I move to hurl myself over the edge after him when a pair of strong, steady hands grab onto my waist, pulling me away from the edge, away from the boy. I kick scream, trying to escape from this mans grasp, but it's hopeless. The emotions overwhelm me and I stop struggling. He pulls me close and I sob into his chest.

I sit up with a jolt, gasping for breath, tears running down my face. I'm kneeling on the floor, coughing and spluttering like I'm having a seizure. I roll onto my side and weep into my hands, feeling three years worth of grieve rushing through me. I will myself to remember as much as I can. My memory is still coming back, slowly, piece by piece. Maybe if I try to repeat the questions in my head it will jog my memory.

Who was he? Who was he? I concentrate as heard as I can, going back to that memory. Elijah. I gasp as the name hits me and then everything about that memory starts flooding back. We were twins, both seven at the time. We were playing on The Divider like we always do, him in his khaki shorts and blue checkered shirt, me in my bright blue cotton dress that reached my ankles. We loved to play on the cliffs edge, feeling like we were free at last.

I am hit by another memory, a grey day full of people in black who openly weap. Old men and women I don't know come up to me, saying meaningless words that don't take the pain away. His coffin lies at my feet, my mother standing next to me cradling a baby and crying, dad trying to comfort her. Pain, grief, loneliness, hits me like a full on hurricane, numbing my senses . They never found his body, believing that it was carried away in the river.

I sit up and hug my knees, rocking myself back and fourth. I will myself to remember who the man that had held me was, sure it was not dad. Ryan. He saved me. Ryan had been there, following us to make sure we were okay. And I was never able to thank him.

I cry until no more tears would come and shakily get to my feet. My legs are cramped and sore from crouching for so long. Though my throbs so much it hurts to move, all my missing memories are there. A fair price to pay. I should wish I had never gotten them back, that I had just kept my mouth shut. But I don't. It might hurt and bring back years of pain, grief and fear, but I lost my brother once. I'm not losing him again. Now, I am finally complete, for he is with me again.

I trudge over to the small bathroom and fill an empty bucket with water. Using a ragged piece of cloth I wash my face, letting the water cool my burning skin. At least I now know why I hate bright light; from the operation in the hospital and my sensitive eyes. And now I know why I keep seeing that pink teddy bear and boy in my dreams.

The memories of him should be sad and painful, but it's not. It's sad and sweet, reminding me of a time I was truly happy.

I empty the bucket down the drain and walk out of the house. I know now, more than ever, that I have to do everything in my power to save Izzy and Jay. I have already lost Elijah, I'm not losing them as well.