Shock And Awe

The Argument

A/N: Please note that other triggering content (self-harm and suicide will be discussed) throughout the story. Please be forewarned and take precautions if these are troubling for you.

I just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and votes. My muse and I both appreciate it. This is still, as of now, planned to be a fairly long, multi-part story, but if you all aren't into it...I'll wrap it up before too long.

And remember...reviews and votes keep me and my muse motivated...especially if they're positive!!!

***More drama and more secrets revealed***

I hope you enjoy this latest chapter...Now on with the show!!!

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"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams." ~ Jeremy Irons

"You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories." ~ Stanislaw Jerzy Lec
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Chapter 32

The first thing I noticed when I opened the file was that this was unlike any normal file I'd ever seen. It wasn't just filled with papers or contents that could simply be read through and filed away. It was as if opening this file was opening a window to my past...a past that contained a story...my story. The label inside this folder...the one that had "The Truth about Mom and Dad" on the front of it...had the words 'Memories...ongoing' written on it...as well as "(see other files for more specific details pertaining to certain events)".

Inside the first file, I catch the first glimpse of a memory of my past. It provides me with a clue that going through these files won't be as easy as simply reading bland list of facts, but instead reading...or reliving...a long personal narrative.

Everyone on the team picked on me for how picky I am about my case files...guess I'm just as picky with the way I file things away in my mind too. I guess that means it should be easier to keep track of the files, or why it was so difficult to "file" things away when my mind started racing. I must have been looking for where to file something away...or looking for the right place to file something. The problem is now...it means it could take longer to find that map Matthew was talking about.

Just when I thought my perfectionist...controlling nature would be an asset...it bites me in the ass. More damn files to sort through. Who knew I'd need a map to find my way out of my own mind? Oh well...guess I might as well start reading and see where this story starts so I know what I'm working with here.

I start reading the first few lines and it hits me...this story...or I guess memory...starts right after another one of those awful parties my parents would have, where I would paraded around like a show pony for their friends, other wealthy socialites and aristocrats, as well as well-connected politicians.

My mother would hire someone to make sure I was dressed appropriately before any function and knew what to say to any dignitaries or special guests that would be attending, to ensure she would not be embarrassed by some incorrect comment I made to anyone attending.

Otherwise, it was always my "job" to be polite, well-mannered, and blend into the background unless someone asked me a direct question. My parents and I would smile for a proper photograph which would appear somewhere in the local society news, sit down for a much too formal dinner, and then I would be excused.