In the midst of complete and utter darkness, I can hear two distant men's voices echoing through the void. One of them has a smooth and sultry tone that makes my heart flutter, while the other is calm yet seductive, sending a tingling sensation up m...
He's been by my side since I woke up. He never leaves me alone. It's been a week, so they're finally letting me go home. I'm going home with him... I don't even really know who he is, but I guess he must be a decent guy, considering I was with him before...though it could've just as easily been a toxic relationship that I couldn't escape. Is it obvious that I'm nervous? I don't want him to know.
He stares at me while I sleep. He's usually singing 'Blame it on the Kids', as if he thinks it'll make me get better. It's kinda creepy but also kinda sweet. There's a TV in the room so he's been showing me my favorite movies. It seems I still love them, despite not remembering watching them before. We watched tangled first. Apparently, my hair is super long too. Not as long as Rapunzels, but still. It goes halfway down my thighs.
He showed me photos we had together, so I knew he isn't lying about being with me. He seems to care about me a lot. He has a tattoo of my name, with butterflies floating around it. I wanna ask her about the girl that calls me 'Mariposa'... but I'm afraid the answer might not be what I expect. What if she isn't my friend anymore? What if she isn't around anymore? I don't want to be disappointed.
He's packing my bags right now... I guess now is as good a time as any to ask... "hey, Chris?" I'm still not used to my voice. He looks over at me, "hmm?" I fidget with my fingers and tilt my head slightly. "Who is the woman that called me "Mariposa?"
He looked at me in shock, his eyes widening, "you remember!?" I nod. "I don't remember much but I can remember a few flashes of being with her.." He looks slightly angry... or maybe jealous... "you remember her but not me?" His voice is laced with venom, making me flinch slightly. "I.... I'm sorry... I can't help it....."
His eyes soften but it doesn't seem genuine. I'm kinda afraid of him, but maybe he's just stressed because of all this. "She was your best friend." He speaks softly. Was? What does that mean? "Where is she now?" I tilt my head. "She's dead." He says it so bluntly as if he wasn't telling me that the only person I can remember is dead.
"How long ago?" I look at him, knowing I probably look liked a kicked puppy. He looks at me pitifully, "Three months ago." Oh god... "And how long was I out for?" He hesitates. "Uhm.... six months..." He whispers the last part.
I tear fell from my face. A six months? I must have missed a lot. I missed her death. I feel like I'm gonna be sick, my hands getting clammy and my head is spinning. I stumble to the bathroom, collapsing to my knees and the Grey tile in front of the toilet. I dry heave as I hunch over, nothing coming out. Chris walked in, putting his hand on my back, and it all came out at once. His touch literally made me sick.
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