Memory House

Shower

There was only one door I could explore now. The door at the end of the hall. The one I expected this man to be behind. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the worst. The door swung open.

I chose this house because I knew every inch. Every measurement. Every room. This room was nothing like what it was supposed to be. It was huge, the size of the rest of the house. The whole room was white tile. On one side was a row of showers, on the other was sinks and a massive smashed mirror. To one side of the door, was a sign:

"Welcome to your local YMCA!"

The cheerfulness of the sign did not match the sight inside this bathroom. Broken glass was everywhere. Flecks of blood were on the floor. Many of the curtains for the showers had been torn down.

One shower was running, water was pooling on the floor. Timidly, I approached the shower. A girl was inside.

She was about twelve. there wasn't a stitch of clothing on her body. She was squatted on the bottom of the shower, crying. Bruises were forming on her small body, on her arms and torso. The shower was washing away her blood.

I was beginning to remember, but I didn't want to.

"You can't control him", she whispered.

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"He seemed so nice. But I guess they always do. He wanted me to take this..."

She held out her little palm. Inside was a small white tablet.

"A roofie? It takes away memories..."

The girl looked confused.

"I don't want to remember this...can I take it?"

I was, again, at a loss for words. She took my silence for a affirmative. She swallowed the pill.

"Before I forget, he's in the basement. He's waiting for you."