Ten Minutes Too Late

chapter 02

T E N  M I N U T E S
T O O  L A T E

TODAY STARTS THE same way that yesterday ended.

With the sound of complete and utter nothingness. The crisp breeze that always whisks through my sheer curtains, making goosebumps rise on my skin. And every single day, I wake up feeling lost.

Last night I found it impossible to fall asleep. . .and the night before, but that's beside the point, the point is that even when I do manage to fall asleep, I never wake in my own bed, wearing my own pajamas, in my own room.

Except, my mother keeps insisting that this is my room, and it always will be. But I have spent day after day in this very spot—nestled in the corner where my bed is pressed flush against the wall, hugging myself amongst a sea of pillows and blankets that all reek of vanilla to the extent it makes me nauseous—analyzing everything around me and trying to basically make sense of something out of complete nothingness.

Like—the photo frame next to my bed. It's me and a girl that I do not recall seeing in my entire life, not even once. And there are pom poms effortlessly thrown on the chair next to my cracked mirror.

I don't remember being a cheerleader.

I don't even remember wanting to be a cheerleader.

The thought of picking up those pom poms sends a chilling shiver down my spine because I lost my memory and now I'm stuck living in another person's life—well, that's what it feels like, anyway.

It's a feeling that cannot be described—the feeling of being out of place—almost like an imposter, or a monster. I'm not sure, exactly, but nothing feels right. Not being here, not wearing these fitting clothes that smell like a bakery, and definitely not in a room that is veer of even an ounce of personality, so much that it makes me feel even emptier than I already do.

It feels like I was just placed here—in someone named Theo Solacing's life, and now I have to play the part because she wasn't able to anymore. And no matter how many times I say "I can't remember" or "I don't know" means absolutely nothing because everyone around me—excluding my psychiatrist—expects me to continue like I am the same person that I was before my only past memory consisted of blood on my hands and the only person I feel a still strong connection to, not being here with me anymore.

I know Ten.

But my mother. . .even her, I feel so distant from her. When she checks up on me every hour or so, it physically exhausts me to respond because she is speaking to me with such utter sincerity and softness and I look into her green eyes and I couldn't even recall a time in which I felt like she was a mother to me—or one that I loved, at that.

As I said, I spend my time trying to make something out of nothing.

The something is that Before Theo had no control over her life, she had no meaningful relationships, no deep connections with anyone except her lover, and her entire life was extremely bland and overall one-dimensional. The nothing is that After Theo—also known as me—has no evidence to support that theory.

But I'm beginning to accept that maybe no evidence is more than enough proof.

Squinting, I peer over at the clock which hangs high on my wall. who was tall enough to hang it so high up the wall.

Ten past nine AM.

In other words, time for me to go.

I almost feel eager as I stand up—not that Dr. Kyoka is my only friend or anything. . .even though she is, I just feel safer confined to the four walls which enclose her office. Something about the energy here, versus there, is entirely different.