Perfectly Imperfect

Chapter 10: Home... Sweet?... Home

I woke up with a pounding headache, my eyes burning regardless of whether they were open or not. I groaned, squeezing the bridge of my nose, trying to fight off the pain. God, it felt like needles were driving themselves into my brain.

What happened? Where was I?

I looked around, stars littering my vision slightly. I tried to sit up but had to lay back down when my vision swam and I began to feel vertigo. I don't recognise the room I'm in. The door suddenly opened and a fairly large man walked through the door.

"Luci?" The man's voice was fairly high for a man.
I swallowed, suddenly noticing my dry throat. "Yes?" I croaked.
"I'm detective Kallinski. We found you in the woods two days ago." Two days ago? As in, I've been asleep two days?
"I... I can't remember what happened." My mind was hazy, what was the last thing I could remember?
He sighed deeply as he perched on the end of a chair, notepad in hand.

"We have reason to believe you were kidnapped by a local gang affiliated with the Mafia down south. We also have reason to suspect you participated and cooperated in their activites," he said whilst staring straight into my eyes. I had a feeling he was trying to read me, but I had nothing to give him.

I was part of a gang? No! I wasn't that confused, that's definitely not what had happened, I was sure. I didn't know how since I couldn't remember for some reason.
"I- what, no. I wouldn't do something like that." I was adamant. Not even for survival... right? I suddenly wasn't so sure.

He sighed deeply, "Look, it's okay. We're choosing not to prosecute you because quite frankly, your x-rays show you've been through enough and we have no evidence to suggest you weren't just a victim. The higher-ups have agreed that as long as you agree to attend regular counselling sessions we have no reason to persecute you. We don't really know what's happened but what is apparent is that you're clearly a victim. Or at least, that's what your mother said."

"My mother?" I couldn't remember why it came to me as a shock that my mother had said something. Why was that surprising that my mother defended me? This was positively infuriating, I felt like I was missing such a large amount of time.

"Yeah... she's spent some time... away. But she came to us yesterday, we had to notify her of your admittance here since you're underage. We ran a blood test and found her as your next living kin, since your father is still missing. She told us everything about your childhood. Including the fact he had taken you to the Mafia to be sold in order to fund their habit."

That's not something that you just forget, why could I not remember anything? "Did you find me with a concussion or something, why can I not remember anything?"
"The doctors have run multiple tests and they haven't found a cause... yet. But they're hopeful. It doesn't seem like there is any cause for concern as there seems to be no underlying health issues, but I'll leave the doctors to speak to you more in person about that."

"How did you find my mother?" I felt compelled to ask, sure in the fact that she wouldn't have been easy to find.
He sighed gently, "she booked herself into the Weatherfield Psychiatric Ward about 5 years ago. She's been there, self-admitted, since."
"What, why?"
"To begin with she signed herself up for an experimental trial that was being run to proactively end drug addiction in volunteers. Most drug abusers try to stop taking drugs at some point or another but fall short because of the severity of the withdrawal symptoms. The hospital takes that choice out of their hands."
I was unsurprised by this, I was beginning to remember bits and pieces. "And then?" I asked, wondering why she was still there.

"Guilt." He said, looking at me sadly, "she became suicidal with guilt. But she didn't give specifics. She did, however, sell her apartment and give the proceeds to a charity for abused children. She hasn't allowed visitors for 5 years but saw your face on the news when you were found."
My mouth hung agape, my heart aching. I felt like I had wanted to hear that all my life, and yet I wasn't quite sure specifically why.

"Look, I've been told not to tell you this, they're worried it may be too much for you to handle in your state right now. Personally I'm a believer of the truth," he waited for me to nod in agreement, it couldn't really get worse at this point, "your mother. She got permission to leave the ward for a couple of days to come here on a supervised visit. She had the right to see your X-rays and blood-works as next of kin."

A bad feeling settle in my chest. I watched his face as he reconsidered telling me, I knew that I was about to hear something I didn't want to hear. 

"She was found this morning."

"Dead?" I croaked, he nodded gently, "suicide?" I asked. He nodded again.
"How?"
He hesitated, "maybe the specifics are best left until a little later."
"How?"
He studied me for a moment, "she managed to make a noose out of bedsheets."

*~*~

I wish I could say I shed a tear at the news I heard last night, but I didn't. I was simultaneously saddened by the news and relieved. Unfortunately, after I slept I had woken up to nearly all my memories firmly intact. The only thing notably missing was how I managed to escape, which did not sit well with the detective. 

He was not entirely convinced I was innocent in all of this, which I could now wholeheartedly say he was correct. Not that I was going to admit it to him because I didn't fancy leaving one prison to enter another. I wasn't part of a gang like he had thought but I had definitely done some unsavoury things in the name of survival.

By having my memories back it shined a certain light on the situation. I felt sorry for my mum and the fact that she had tried so hard, alone, to correct everything she had done wrong. But the sympathy only leant itself so far. She had been a willing, primary accomplice to selling me to a deranged man. A man who pretended to be my friend, teach me to fight, be a shiny chance of hope before he destroyed that vision with everything he had. I thought back to the 5 years I had spent there.

It had become a blur of pain, endless chores and sleepless nights. I looked over at the police standing guard outside my hospital room and felt the familiar flare of fear. What was going to happen now?