Unremembered by Jessica Brody

Unremembered by Jessica Brody

Author:Jessica Brody
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Macmillan Children’s Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


26

CONTAINED

‘Close your eyes,’ Zen instructs me. ‘Go back to the living room and tell me what you see.’

I do as I’m told, allowing my mind to be transported back to the only room I have. I focus hard until I see everything reappear in front of me. The beige couch. The coffee table. The lamp. But this time, there’s something new in the picture.

‘A book,’ I tell him eagerly. ‘I see a book. And a hand. It’s …’ The realization comes fast. ‘It’s mine! It’s my hand. I’m holding the book. I just finished reading it.’

‘Good,’ Zen encourages. ‘That’s right. You were in the living room reading.’

I can see the book clearly in front of me now. A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle. The cover is ragged and peeling away. As though it’s been read a hundred times. And underneath it, I can make out my legs, curled up on the couch, swathed in a pair of dark grey cotton pants. They look surprisingly similar to the ones I was wearing when the rescue boat found me. The ones still folded up in a drawer at the Carlsons’ house.

‘Now try to let the memory guide you. It may be somewhat stilted at first but it will get easier and start to flow more fluidly the longer you do it. And I’ll be here to prompt you if you get stuck. What else do you remember about that day?’

I bite my lip and concentrate, attempting to verbalize everything I see and feel. ‘I was getting hungry,’ I recount. ‘I was going to eat lunch. But then I heard something. A scratching sound. It was coming from outside.’

I watch the scene as it plays out in brief, somewhat hazy fragments. I see it through my own eyes. As though it’s happening to me right now.

Standing up. Walking to the front door. Reaching out my hand.

But I’m crippled by a sudden bout of fear and I quickly withdraw it.

‘I was scared,’ I tell Zen. ‘Something scared me.’

‘Yes,’ Zen replies. ‘Do you remember what you were afraid of?’

‘The outside,’ I say with startling certainty. ‘I was afraid to go outside.’

‘Why?’ Zen prompts.

‘Because someone told me not to.’

Who? I immediately wonder. I clench my eyes shut and press my fingers against my temples, trying to find the person’s face. Trying to hear the warning. But I just can’t. The memory is not there.

‘I’m not supposed to go outside when no one is home,’ I tell Zen. But I barely recognize my own voice. It sounds flat and lifeless. My words come out like a monotone chant. ‘Something bad will happen if I do. But I don’t know what.’

‘It’s OK,’ Zen says hastily. ‘Keep going.’

I inhale deeply and slide back in.

My hand extends again. My finger presses against a glowing blue scanner. The door beeps and I push it open.

‘I didn’t listen,’ I recall. ‘I went outside anyway.’

Zen laughs. ‘You were never very good at following rules. Much to the disappointment of the people who made them.



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