by Tara Harrison 2 years ago in fiction

It all just came back in flashes you know.


I got in the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. Looking down I saw blood; it covered the floor. It looked as though it was clogging the drain, I closed my eyes trying to unclog it, but all I wanted to do is gag at the metallic, copper smell. I finally opened my eyes to dry and the water was clear. I turned the water off hesitantly watching the water drip from the tap.

I backed away wrapping the towel around me. I walked past a few photo frames, not recognising anyone in them. I headed downstairs, my mum was persistent on getting me better and refusing to understand that I might not get better. She had my daily test on the kitchen counter. I screwed it up and put it in the bin.

Everything was labelled. I can remember what milk is and that it goes in a bowl. After being diagnosed I’ve been trying to remember what I used to be like. It’s like it's screaming and no one can hear.

Along with daily quizzes, there were other things to help jog my memory. Photos were mum’s favourite. I can now remember Mum, Dad, my little brother and today we are learning about David. David was my boyfriend, was being the operative word.

Flashes of him came to mind, our first date, his smile and the feeling of my hand in his. My mind jumped to the palm of his hand colliding with my cheek, I could feel the blood rush to my cheek.

I scrambled off the couch going up to my room. When I lost my memory, I created a world in which I could live, it was similar to that of reality but different in the way in which I was in control. I was losing my grip as I began to remember more and more.

I leant against my door sliding down it as my breathing became more and more erratic running my fingers through my hair. Not only photos jog your memory, but objects and smells can as well. I think the worst part of this was losing me.

“I like that shirt on you,” echoed a voice. He liked this shirt on me so it very quickly became my favourite to wear but now I can’t stand to wear it.

Places are another thing that can trigger memories. David and I used to live together, I looked out the passenger window. The house looked dull and lifeless despite its bright white appearance cautiously walking around as though I was treading on eggshells. Inside the house was a wreck, tables flipped and glass scattered the floor in the bathroom. On the outside, the house looked beautiful however the inside was battered and bruised. I placed the table on its legs but just like the glass, not everything can be fixed.

I could feel my heart in my throat, I gripped onto the table. My stomach felt queasy and my head jerked from side to side. It’s as though it went from being a house to being a jail. I looked up and my eyes locked with his, there were cuts and bruises on my arm, blood pooling on the ground. I backed away from him every move was pure agony. I let out the loudest scream I could despite my lungs feeling as though they were on fire. There was a gentle touch on my shoulder and I breathe out a sigh of relief seeing my mum’s kind eyes.

I looked in the full-length mirror trying to figure who I was or at least who I am. I notice bruises hidden by my clothing. It was bright purple tinged with black and yellow. “I’m sorry beautiful, I won’t hurt you again.” I echoed that voice again shaking my head until it was gone.

I could smell something delicious, I followed my nose finding my mum in the kitchen. “What are you cooking?” I asked.

“It’s your favourite, spaghetti bolognese,” she said looking at me as though I were a china doll. I returned a smile going to wash up before dinner.

The tightness in my chest returned and I found myself back in our bathroom. “You go and ruin a perfectly cooked meal, how dare you!” His voice boomed shaking me to my core. My body began to tremble, how can someone who looks so much like an angel be the devil? He smashed the glass frame of the shower cutting my feet, wincing with every step back I took. He punched me in the face, my nose begins to bleed.

I washed my hands suddenly looking at my physical appearance as I sloshed some water onto my face before patting it dry and going to sit at the dinner table. I ate making conversation, I don’t remember spaghetti bolognese but I do remember garlic bread. Reaching to grab another piece knocking my fork off the table. I picked up my fork only to see myself sitting under the table. Only it looked nothing like me, her eyes were sunken in, her hair unwashed and she looked terrified. Her hands were trembling and I could see she had something in her hand a butter knife. Her dark eyes locked with mine, I sat up in my seat as quickly as possible.

I put my clothes in my hamper, seeing an item of bright red clothing. I pulled it out and it was cold and wet. I jumped hearing my mum behind me. “Just throw that out, no amount of vinegar can save that shirt.” She handed me a plastic bag. I tied the bag shut, my palms were bright red. “911 what’s your emergency?” the modulated voice rang throughout my head.

I looked up seeing her reflection in the mirror the voices beginning to fade as she placed her hand on my shoulder, “Mum I think I killed David.”

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