Hate to Forget by L V Chase

Author:L V Chase [Chase, L V]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

17

Sadie

I don’t believe anything anymore.

I don’t believe it’s Saturday.

I don’t believe that I stayed in bed until it was nearly noon.

I don’t believe it’s been one week since I woke up with no memories of the last two years.

I don’t believe that I’m missing a large part of myself—the part that had a passionate relationship with someone, the part that became good friends with Ethan and Emmy, the part that got drunk at parties and let her grandmother fall into a breakdown without telling her best friend.

I don’t believe any of it because my brain is a ravaged country, where I’ve been robbed of my memories, and its anarchy has led me to be kidnapped by my thoughts of Klay. Sprinkle in a little Stockholm Syndrome for those obsessive thoughts, and I know I can’t trust my thoughts.

I have everything under control.

I’ve forgotten nearly everything from the last two years, but Klay’s words have dug into my head.

I must have heard him say it before, and my brain incorporated it into my fantasy. There’s no other explanation for why he said the same thing in my fantasy and in reality. But why would I remember that out of all of my other forgotten memories? Certainly, at some point, Ethan or Emmy said something far more important to me.

I walk outside, still wearing pajama pants and a shabby sweater. I retrieve the stack of mail crammed into the mailbox. It’s mostly magazines that my grandmother signs up for indiscriminately. There are two clothing magazines—one with yoga clothes and the other with fifties vintage dresses. There’s also a magazine for dolls, an organization that raises money for endangered animals, an entertainment magazine, and one for baking equipment. There’s a piece of junk mail concerning buying a metal roof.

I step back into the house.

“Good afternoon, Sadie.”

I nearly trip on my own feet. I spin around to see a woman with curly blonde hair. The woman who’d been in my grandmother’s house when I returned from Roman’s house. Occasionally, I’ve seen some signs that she’s been in the house, but for the most part, she’s been absent. I know she said she wasn’t my guardian since I wasn’t young enough to need a guardian, but I can’t quite find out who she is supposed to be to me. I’m afraid if I ask, she’ll send me to the psychiatric ward to join my grandmother. For how little I’ve seen her interact with anything or anyone, she might as well be a hallucination.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, the last half of an English muffin in her hand. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” I say, setting the mail on the end table in the living room. “Have you heard from my grandmother?”

“Not yet,” she says. “I’ll try to call the hospital today. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but—”

Her phone rings. She taps on the screen and brings it up to her ear.

“Beth Murray,” she answers.

Beth. I need to remember that. For some reason, the name Murray is familiar.

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