Amnesia

9

I told Nick what little I found out about me and Andrew. He didn't yell or argue with me about the dangerous position I put myself in. I knew I had locked myself in with a complete stranger, because of my memory loss, but it wasn't an excuse for me to be so careless.

He felt bad for leaving me, going on and on about the 'what ifs'.

I just shrugged, the thin paper burning my leg. I was curious as to what he had to say and to see if he would help me remember some things.

I looked in the back seat, the smell of dirt from the potatoes and the smell of spices from the marinated chicken assaulted the small space of his Camry. We had to come up with an elaborate lie about sneaking out. And buying food seemed to be the logical thing to do. We wanted to buy dinner, it wasn't suspicious for her kids to want to buy dinner, we had both agreed.

We didn't want to worry mom or dad.

"Nick, did you give up hope?" I blurted, unable to hold my tongue.

Nick choked on his spit and pulled over coughing uncontrollably. It would have been comical if it weren't from the heavy question.

I really wanted to know. He looked at me, his eyes glossy from the tears that threatened him. I waited patiently, as he thought about his answer. I was beginning to think he did and I bit my lip looking away.

"Lisa, I never gave up hope." Nick said tenderly, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. I whimpered from the pressure and he pulled away, his face etched in worry. I shook my head, not trusting my voice to be strong, but squeaky and high.

"You're stronger than anyone, I knew you wouldn't give up." Nick elaborated, afraid to touch my shoulder again.

I smiled sadly, mumbling, "dad did, and mom was beginning to give up hope too."

Nick let go of a breath he was holding and shook his head as he started to drive down the street we stayed at.

I didn't say anything else, afraid I might cry. My thoughts turned around when I noticed the tree I got stuck climbing so many years ago. It was dying, but it was still there, past the little park and benches. It still held its place next to little pond they built over the years. The thick trunk was peeling away from years of rot and insects, the branches were still covered in thick brush, but it was thinning at the bottom.

It was dying, like me. I wasn't fading as fast, and I sympathized for the once youthful tree. I was still at a young twenty-three who had much to live for. I had to hold on to that, even if I wasn't sure I would remember the horrible things or the good things in this past year. I was alive, and I couldn't ask for more.

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Mom was worried when we entered the house, more of me than Nick who seemed more than happy to leave me with mom. She fluttered her hands over me, checking my eyes and mouth like the nurse that she was. She didn't ask questions, just fussed over us leaving without so much as a word. Dad stood in the kitchen, preparing the potatoes; while mom lead me by the hand to sit down.

I was really annoyed with her motherly affection, but I had brought it on myself. I sighed once she stopped fussing, grateful for the reprieve. She cooked the chicken, talking about her worries, but I barely listened, the paper burning my leg once more. I wanted to talk to him.

I wanted to figure this whole mess out and move on. Revenge wasn't on my list any more, just getting back to basics and life seemed more important than wasting time plotting revenge.

I excused myself to the restroom and swiftly made my way there before mom could pester me any more. Dad was smiling, like he enjoyed her pestering.
Of course he is, he's not the one on the receiving end of it all. I thought annoyed. I closed my bedroom door and dug out the house phone, hoping no one would pick it up. I needed a cell, but with reporters catching wind of my appearance in the camping store made it harder. I could always ask Nick, I think, but it's dismissed immediately when everyone knows him to be my older brother. Nick would be the vultures' meal if he went back into town, I sighed defeated.

I dug around my pocket before pulling the ace bandages and Andrew's paper. I checked to make sure the phone wasn't in use and dialed quickly. I hoped he would answer.
Ring. Ring. The receiving end buzzed. I got anxious, ready to hang up when he answered.

"Hello?" Andrew breathed into the phone. He sounded out of breath. It was sexy. I shook my head, clearly shocked.

"Andrew?" I said, feeling really stupid.

"I thought it was you. I had to run to the phone." He laughed.

I smiled a little, "we need to talk. Can we meet somewhere?"

"Sure, where do you have in mind?" Andrew asked, curiosity and happiness laced his tone making wild butterflies escape their cages and flutter around in my belly.

I thought about it; reporters were everywhere now, they could be outside right now waiting for me. I didn't have anywhere to go. Except here, I think to myself. It was my only chance and hope.

"My parents house." I blurt before I could finalize the decision.

"Are you sure? Your dad wasn't too happy last time we met." Andrew said, the light happy tone gone.

"It'll be fine. You can come to dinner tomorrow night." I laugh at his nervousness.

Andrew and I agreed and we hung up. I felt excited and relieved that everything was working out for the best. I hoped that I would remember more of him and maybe actually grow to like him again. Andrew seemed to be nice and caring, he reminded me a lot of a heroine. Charming, sweet, handsome. I froze, my cheeks burning from the thought. I sighed and trained my mind to think of something else. Anything else.

I set the phone on my bed and walked to the bathroom. I washed my hands, not bothering to look at my reflection. The bruises were still there, however yellowing, but they were there. It disturbed me that I went through so much and managed to survive it all. I could only speculate what happened and try to ease myself back to that memory.

I cleared my mind again by taking a deep breath and walking to the kitchen. I took one step at a time trying to calm myself and my racing thoughts. I stopped when I spotted a man opening the front door. His face was covered in a ski mask, his hands gloved, he was wearing jeans and boots and a thick sweater. I could only tell he was a man because of his thick torso and biceps.

If it were a woman, I would die of shock.

The man noticed me at the bottom of the stares and I could see his sick, electric blue eyes twinkle through the masks cut out.

He took a step toward me and I screamed "FIRE!" before he could get too close.