To Be Obscure

| CH. 15

"Monty?"

I rubbed the side of my temple as a dull ache formed up between my eyes. I closed them and drew in a breath. Some things hurt more to remember, and that was why I chose not to.

"Monty." Rosie's voice made my eyes pop open. She hugged the couch pillow tight in her arms. Nathan did the same. "Her parents were murdered? My grandparents?"

I nodded, looking in my bowl to see my ice cream had melted. "Yes."

Rosie frowned, pouting her pink lips, and stared down at her fingers. "That's why she never talked about it."

"Right," I muttered with a sigh.

"And she blamed you for it?" Nathan asked. His glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose, and his hair covered his forehead. I glanced at him before turning my gaze towards the TV. I hadn't recalled when we turned it on.

"She blamed me for a while," I said as I cracked my neck from one side to the other. "Eventually, she stopped."

"And the whole 'planning to kill her father,' thing?" Rosie bit her lip.

"Ah," I said, "that took me one-hundred years to admit."

Nathan noticed my ache. He stood, disappearing into his room. When he returned, he grabbed my hand and dropped two pills in my palm. I swallowed them without water.

"What was that?" Rosie asked as her eyes followed Nathan back to his seat. "What'd you give Monty?"

"He's had head trauma." His hands shifted into the pockets of his jeans. "I mean, I can't confirm it without an x-ray, but it's the only thing I can pair with his severe migraines and memory loss. Those pills help with the pain."

Did you have to tell her so nonchalant, Nate?

"Memory loss?"

The pills started their effects, and I groaned uncomfortably.

"You can't remember things?" she asked me.

I looked at her with half-lidded eyes. God, did she look like Charlotte. Why hadn't I noticed the resemblance before? "I can't remember, but I can't forget," I said. "Sometimes—a lot of times—if I remember, I get headaches."

"Migraines," Nathan corrected, "and nightmares."

Rosie chewed on her lip, her eyes bouncing between Nathan and me. "That's why you don't remember Grampa Vick, or Abby, or—"

"Anything," I started towards my room, "I can't remember anything."

She tried to follow me, but Nathan stopped her. 'Leave him,' he told her, 'he needs to sleep it off.'

I turned into my room and shut the door, just as I heard her say, "Will he have a nightmare?"

Perhaps, Rosie. I dropped onto my bed and closed my eyes. Or, perhaps I'll dream of your mother.

**

I felt cold air on my face. Drops of water splashed on my forehead and slid down my nose and cheeks. I winced, shifting my head as I rolled on my side. Was my window open? Had it even rained lately? Grumbling, I stretched out my hand, but when I reached for my pillow, it wasn't there.

I wasn't in bed, I wasn't awake. I was dreaming.

My eyes popped open, unintentionally allowing rain to drip inside them. I blinked away the water and wiped at my lashes. Blades of grass brushed against my cheek as I rolled onto my back. Thunder rumbled in the sky as lightning sliced through the array of grey and black clouds.