Writer Games: Amnesia

Finals - Tabula Rasa - Jolene Arusha-Cain

The first few weeks mean nothing to me.
The girl they praise for her bravery and spirit has been dead since the first time I opened my eyes. She is fierce. She is cunning. She is unstoppable. And she is dead.
They tell me that this is the decision she made in her final moments, when her skull was splitting in two and her mind was reduced to shambles and her body was ready to give in. It was her choice and she chose death. She chose oblivion and nothingness. She chose to be forgotten. Though the replays begin with her desperation to reclaim the memories that were stolen from her, they end with her begging for them to be taken back.
So they gave her a choice and she chose to forget.
I wear her scarred face but we will never be the same girl. They tell me that it's impossible to be the person that she was when she entered the Capitol. Tabula Rasa, they explain, has erased all that I once was. She is gone and I have taken her place. The replays show her fighting to stay alive but the reality is that Jolene Arusha-Cain is dead. But I am still alive.
When they put me back on the train, they explained to me that I was going home. It didn't matter that the Capitol is the only home that I will ever know. The girl whose face I wear was someone who fought for District Twelve but I feel nothing for the place she called home. There is nothing for me in Twelve. No past, no present, and no future. Without Jolene's memories, I have nothing. Still, they told me that I had to go back home. It's the rules.
What they didn't tell me was that "home" would be full of strangers trying to claim me as their own. When I arrived back in Twelve as their first Victor in years, there was no shortage of people who believed they had the right to take care of me. Though Jolene was strong enough to survive the Games, I am not strong enough to be alone. They don't trust me to be alone.
First there was an older woman, one who said I was too young to be on my own. Her yellowed fingernails left crescent-moon shapes in my wrist when she grabbed me and tried to lead me away from the surging, roaring crowd that called to a girl who no longer existed. I was powerless to stop her; my voice has been stolen along with Jolene's terrible memories. Dazed and confused, I would've let her pull me wherever she wanted me to go.
Then there was a tall man, grey and slumped and more of a boy than a man. He wouldn't look me in the eye but he told her that he was taking me home. While I knew that this place would never again be my home, he was the best option that had been presented to me. The man called himself Jared and told me that everything was going to be okay. He promised that he would take care of me. I felt like a child as he held my hand and led me away from the mob.
In the first few weeks, there is no shortage of people who struggle with the concept that I am not the girl who walked these streets for seventeen years. I am surrounded by a revolving sea of faces that don't have a name and voices that don't spark even a hint of recognition. Jared tells me to give them time but I can tell that he's impatient too. He wants her back, the girl who lives only in his memories.
I want to tell him that she chose this life.
The first few weeks don't come with the nightmares that I'd been prepared for. My nights are sleepless and full of a desire to remember what I used to be. While Jared sleeps, curled up at the end of my bed despite being too big for such a space, I am consumed by the idea that this was a choice that can't be unmade. They left me with only my name and a single regret.
Jared can't look me in the eye until after my bruises have healed and the knocks at our door have stopped. It's another week before he tells me that he's my brother. Two before he tells me that he isn't angry that I don't remember him. It's okay, I tell myself, I'm angry enough for both of us. I hate myself for not remembering the sister he loved but she chose to forget him.
It's almost a year before I understand why, before he tells me that he abandoned his kid sister when he was old enough to save himself from being another forgotten orphan. He wants me to hate him for it the way he hates himself but I lack the strength to. People make mistakes. Jared blames himself for his sister's choice to be erased but it's not his fault.
It's hers, mine, we did this to him. It's three years before he forgives himself.
"Jo, there's someone here to see you."
It's been days since I've gotten out of bed and I'm wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never did. Jared brushes my brittle hair out of my face. He doesn't smile often anymore but the corners of his mouth are slightly upturned. Lots of people have been in and out in the last few days, visitors from the Capitol who are here to prepare me for another painful year of mentoring. He hasn't smiled for them, they disgust him. They disgust me too.
The girl that walks into the room isn't one of them. She's too plain and too normal to come from a place where you're only appealing if you look like a freak. Her eyes are dull when she firsts steps over the threshold but they light up when she looks at me. It's the same spark I saw in Jared, and the same spark he expected in me, when I first met him. My brother has filled me in on some of what Jolene chose to forget but my reclaimed memories don't include her.
She walks as if she's afraid to disturb me. While I am broken and I can never truly be fixed, I am not fragile. I hate people who treat me like I'm going to shatter. If I was going to do so, I would've done it three years ago. I want to hate her immediately but the hopeful look in Jared's eyes reminds me to try for optimism. Or as much optimism as I can muster.
"If you want me to leave, I'll go." She speaks softly but I can tell that she isn't afraid of breaking me when she sits right next to my bed, close enough that I can smell vanilla and coffee. She must be wealthy if she can afford coffee. Jared drinks it, I refuse. I shake my head at her.
"I know you don't remember me."
"I'm sorry it's taken this long."
"My name is Taylor."
It's two years before we're back where we were the first time around. Three before she kisses me again. Four before I speak for the first time in years.
"I love you too."