Forget-Me-Not

3

Olivia Chase. That is my name. I found out about it when I saw my face the moment I opened the news this morning. Olivia Chase, step-daughter of  Henry Chase is reported missing. Evidence shows that Ms. Chase was kidnapped and was drowned in the river.

My name is Olivia Chase. That is a progress. I have a step-father named Henry Chase, an architect. I have a fiancee whom I don't know existed. They never mention who my mother is or who I am before I lost my memory.

I glance at the clock by the living room. It is a quarter after seven. Timothy would be home any minute by now. I asked Mrs. Frero, a kind house keeper, the guy's name. She told me his name is Timothy Lopez. He is a pediatrician. He would usually stay late in the hospital as what Mrs. Frero told me.

 I sat in the living room for a while until I got bored and decided to give myself a private tour inside. I pass by a room on my way up the second floor. I turn the knob but it was locked to my dismay. I continue my pursuit. I opened the first door to my right to see a music room.

I stood outside the room in awe. The room is as big as the room that I'm currently staying. The walls are in a calm shade of brown peach. A classical piano is resting in the middle of the room. A guitar is placed on the other side of the room and a violin stood beside it. As if with a mind of their own, my feet made its way towards the violin. I look at the beautiful artifact in front of me. Its curve in the right places and it looks new. Untouched.

I run my hands along its curves feeling a sense of familiarity, as if I used played with it. I took it and place it on my shoulder and the bow on the other. As if having a mind on its own, my hands move to their own accord. I felt home. My fingers gracefully tune each string and my hands moves smoothly along the strings. I realize I was playing Mozart already.

I close my eyes, loosing to the rhythm, to the melody. I kept on playing with my eyes closed. I savor each tone, each movement. I opened my eyes to see that I'm not in the music room anymore. I'm standing in the middle of a white room, with an open window beside me. It was near dusk. I glance around to see nobody in there.

I am in my six year-old self. Holding the violin and the bow, I am crying. I felt a slight pain in my elbow, I know it was my him who did this. I don't know why he hit me. I can't stop crying. It really hurts. I heard the door open, I felt my little body stiffen. Please, don't let him in.

"My baby girl can play," I look up to the warm eyes of my mother. Her smile is so sweet. Her soft brown hair was tied into a bun. She ran her hands to my short hair. I sniffed.

"Mommy, he hit me again," I tattled. I know I'm going to get spanked by him later or worst.

She smiled. "I know, baby, but right now Mommy wants to hear you play. Can you do that?"

I nodded with so much enthusiasm. I played the same song I'm playing right now. I opened my eyes and I can see that I'm back in the music room. He used to hurt me. I used to play Mozart for my Mom. I felt tears warming up my eyes. I place the violin back to where I took it and wipe the tears.

"I didn't know you can play Mozart."

I snapped at the door to see Timothy leaning against the door frame wearing black trousers and plain blue polo shirt. He has a knowing smile but it soon became a frown when he saw my face.

"What happened?" He asked.

I just shrug pass him. I continue down the stairs, not looking back. Its not a dream, just what I saw, its a memory of me when I was six.  I used to be abused. I played the violin to stay away from the world. To hide in my own world. 

I already reached the last floor when Timothy catch up to me. He grab my elbow before I could make my leave. I didn't bother looking back. I don't want him to see me in this position. Tear fills my eyes as I remember the memory. Its a dream. Its a dream. Its only just a dream.

"What happened?" He insisted, forcing me to look at him.

"Nothing happened," I murmur at him trying to free from his grip.

He grabs both of my elbows and made me look at him. I stare at his eyes. They will never cease to amaze me. They are now filled with worry and fear.

"What happened?" He pressed in.

I look away and sigh. "My name's Olivia Chase, that is what the news told me. Henry Chase is my step-father. I have a fiancé. They didn't say anything about my mother. I didn't know I could play violin."

"You had a fiancé?" Of all the things I've said, that's the only thing he heard?

I rolled my eyes at him. "That's what you are going to say?"

He sigh and smiled. "Have you eaten dinner?"

At the moment dinner left his mouth, my stomach growled in protest. I sigh. "No, but Mrs. Frero made lasagna for dinner."

"Good," he leads the way towards the kitchen. He was about to pre-heat the lasagna in the microwave when I stopped him. "What?"

"Don't cook it in the microwave. Did you know that microwave heats your food with the water inside the food? In the process, it will suck all the water and moisture in the food leaving it dry," I said without thinking at all.

"How did you know that?" He said placing the other plate in the microwave and the other on the table.

I shrug. "I don't know. I just do."

He nodded before settling on his chair. I grab a forkful of the lasagna and drop it on my mouth. It's heaven. Mrs. Frero, his other housekeeper, is the best cook. I finished the whole plate in seconds, so does Timothy. I stood up to clean the dishes, but Timothy beat me to it.

"No, you are the visitor. I'll clean the dishes," He turn to grab the plate from me instead.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Wait, I don't know who you are."

"Timothy Lopez," he said, running the faucet.

I laughed. "Dr. Timothy Lopez, nice to meet you. I'm Olivia Chase."

"You already knew who I am."

I shrug. "Just making sure if the answers matched.

He washed the soap off from his hand and extend his hand to me. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Olivia Chase."

-

A/N:

Happy New Year! :D

Lala.