The car ride was silent as I tried to think of something to say. It was like my life had no substance, there was nothing for me to talk about. I went to school and... that's about it.
I didn't even know what to say about being in the woods, and surprisingly my mom wasn't mad or anything. She was just as silent as me, but it wasn't an angry silence like I expected, more like my silence. There was nothing to talk about, so what's the point?
Still trying to think of something, anything to talk about, I racked my brain in an attempt to not be stuck in silence.
But I can't remember.
Finally thinking of something that I can have a conversation about, I ask, "Where's River?"
"Your brother?" She asks, sounding somewhat dazed.
"Yah." Was all I could think to say back. Do we know any other Rivers other than bodies of water? I don't know, I can't remember.
"I don't know. Maybe he's at home, or at a friend's house, or he could be at school?" She answers like she is asking a question. How can she not know where he is? He is only-
My heart stutters as I realize I don't know how old my brother is, only that he is younger than me.
HOW DO I NOT REMEMBER?
My mom noticed my silence, but mistakes it as me judging her, when in reality I'm judging myself.
"Do you think I'm a bad mother?" She asks quietly, like she is afraid for my answer, but has to ask anyway.
I reply, "No, I think your fine Mom." She immediately relaxed and turned on the radio, drowning out the deafening silence.
"Mom, I think I hit my head." I say, she didn't question me about why I had been out by the freeway, looking like I had been homeless, but I think I need to get my head checked. I can barely remember anything from my life, and I can not remember any details.
I live in California, but I don't know what town or street; I am 16 years old, but I can't remember my birthday; I go to school, but I don't know what school or even what grade I'm in.
My mom mumbled something that sounds like "okay, we'll get that checked" but she doesn't sound concerned.
While I stare out the window and watch the trees, building, signs, flash by quickly and fleetingly, I wish my panic was as fleeting as the images, but it was staying with me for a while.
We reached the average sized house, on the average looking street and I can't help feeling strange as I stare at the house I have lived in my whole life.
I feel like this place is so unbelievably nondescript. Like somewhere that can be summed up in one sentence, as a vague description that can be left out, not like the place I have had most of my experiences and memories; the experiences and memories that I can't remember.
I walk through the front door, up the stairs, and into my room. I look around the room that I can call my own, try to find something that could help me to remember anything, anything at all. But I realize the room is as personal as a hotel room.
There are no pictures, no stuffed animals on the bed, the paint is a plain white, the closet and dresser are full of nondescript clothing. There is nothing that can tell me about me.
I sit on the edge of the bed and close my eyes, resting my head in my hands feeling the tears close to the surface. Then I hear an unfamiliar voice.
My eyes shoot up and I see a small girl maybe a few years younger than me with pixie cut black hair and dark eyes that I have already seen twice in one day.
"You're Emmerson too, right?" I ask in a tired voice.
"Yep, I'm surprised you're not confused still, good job."
"Are you going to melt again?" I ask, nervous and slightly afraid.
"Maybe, probably, yes. But not until the author calls me back, I'm here to let you know a few things first."
I chuckle nervously, what is she talking about, author? This is real life, not a book or story. Still, something she says, or maybe the way she says it, makes me nervous.
"What things are you here to tell me?" I ask, not sure if I'm ready yet to know what she meant by author. Before she can answer me, my mom walks into the room, looking around confused.
I don't know how my mom is going to react to some random person being in my room, but she seems to just look through Emmerson who is only a few feet from her.
"Kate who are you talking to? Is there someone in your room?"
At this I am terribly confused; I point at Emmerson and answer her, "Yah Mom, this is Emmerson, she helped me out of the woods and the one who told you where we were."
My mom looked at where I was pointing, looking confused and then concerned. She walked over to where I was sitting and placed her hand on my forehead. "Honey are you feeling okay?" She asked.
I swatted her hand away with an indignant, "Of course I am, Mom."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Mom! What is your problem? I'm completely fine! And why are you ignoring Emmerson? She is standing right in front of you! She saved my life in the woods, why are you being so rude?" I retort, angry and annoyed that my mom was acting like there was something wrong with me. And while Emmerson was kinda rude and didn't seem to like me much, she did still save me and didn't deserve to be ignored.
My mom reached out and placed both hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look into her eyes. I was confused to see fear in them, but all my confusion was fixed a moment later as she looked at me, completely serious as she said, "Kate, there is no one else in this room. You've been in here all day, and you were nowhere near anything that resembles woods."
I don't understand.
I look over to see Emmerson looking at me gravely. I turn back to see my mom's tear filled eyes and I laugh. Smiling I say, "Mom, don't try to trick me. Emmerson is right there."
Unexpectedly, the tears begin to spill out of her eyes and I look around panicking. I'm not good at dealing with crying people.
"Mom don't cry! Emmerson help!" I turn and see her grave face as she looks at me and my sobbing mom who only seems to cry harder as I plead with Emmerson for help.
"Kate, I was supposed to let you find out on your own, but this whole situation isn't going according to plan. Well, not the plan I was told to follow. I guess the author has other ideas." She sounds stressed out and then angry as she mentions this author person again.
"Let me find out what by myself?" I ask, desperately wanting some answers to this nightmare that is my life.
"Katie, you're in a book." She says, and while I want to laugh at what she is saying and call her crazy, but I can't. I just stare at her in horror; I can't help but scream as she turns into a glass girl; I close my eyes so I don't she have to watch her disappear like I know she will.
When I open my eyes, I see that she is indeed gone; I see my mom sobbing still, but I can't hear her over the insane screams that seem to be echoing off the walls. Where are they coming from? It doesn't take long to realize they are coming from me and my throat feels raw from the terrified, maniacal noises I'm making.
But I can't stop.
I can't stop screaming, and honestly, that is what terrifies me the most right now.
