Remember Me

Chapter 7

The first thing I thought when I woke up was, 'Where the hell am I?' I was laying on something, probably a bed that Andrew or Deryck had been so KIND enough to set me down on after my punishment. I yawned and stretched my arms, and that's when I noticed something. I was smaller. This wasn't me. Well, it was, but not the current me. I was confused for sure, but this was definitely little me, from about twelve years ago, when I was four. I was dressed in a frilly pink skirt reaching just below my knees, a white long sleeved t-shirt with polka dots in different shades of pink, and no shoes.  

My blond hair was frizzy and matted, as if I'd been laying on it for hours. And I was in... my old room. My old room at home. Home as in the house I used to live in with my family, and not the hell hole I was expected to call home. Yes, this was the room I'd lived in for the first four years of my life, with its pale pink walls and lush white carpet, the fuschia bed spread and bubblegum colored canopy over it. The place brought back so many good memories, but I was still having trouble figuring out why I was seeing all of this. Just then a faint knocking sound came from the direction of the door. Young me jumped about three feet in her bed. The door slowly opened and ... mom came in. My mom, who I hadn't seen in twelve years, had just walked into my old room to get four year old me. Weird, I know. Mom smiled warmly at little Zoey, and I will never forget the priceless smile on little Zoey's face when she saw her. 

"Mommy!" she cried, and ran over to her. Little Zoey wrapped her arms around mom's legs and she patted the top of her matted head, laughing. 

"I see someone had a good nap," said mom, looking down at the small child fastened to her legs. Wait. I remembered this scene. Everything clicked. I was having a flashback. Somehow in my unconciousness, my mind was playing flashbacks of my life.  

"I did, mommy, I DID!" cheered little Zoey, smiling a loveable lopsided grin up at her mom. MY lopsided grin. Mom laughed her one of a kind laugh, the laugh that sounded like honey flowing, and trudged out of the room, little Zoey in tow, refusing to release her legs. The scene slowly faded to black and a new one appeared. I could tell right away something was wrong. The whole thing just felt ... miserable. I could make out a warm looking family room, and through one of the windows I could see it was storming. I surveyed the leather sectional and cream colored carpeting as I realized where I was now. I was at my old babysitter's house. I could faintly make out the figure of the babysitter, Natalie, as she talked to a ... police officer at the front door. I made out a distant and sad look on her face, as the officer carried on most of the conversation. I caught only a few words. "Mr. and Mrs. Daniels ... drunk man ... crashed ... killed instantly..." Oh my god. I remembered this night too, a night I had tried so hard for twelve years to push out of my mind. A night of which each day of my life was a constant reminder. The night mom and dad died. Natalie closed the door after wishing the officer a good night and leaned against the door, and it was like I could read her mind. She was thinking, 'How am I going to explain this to Zoey?' She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. 

"Let's get this over with," she said to herself, and I could see she was fighting back tears. "Zoey!" I heard tiny footsteps and a small THUD, and there appeared little Zoey again, in jeans, a butterfly printed shirt, and a plastic jeweled tiara. Her eyes twinkled. 

"Are mommy and daddy here?" She asked eagerly, rushing to the window and peering out. Natalie allowed several tears to drip down her cheeks before prying little Zoey away from the window. A look of alarm instantly washed over the small girl's face.  

"Why Nat-Nat sad?" she asked, sounding small and afraid. Natalie reminded me a lot of Jasmine, actually. Never crying unless there was a super serious reason to cry about. Natalies words were slurred through her sobs, so I couldn't understand exactly what she said, but I certainly got the jyst of it. She was breaking the news to young me. I saw the little girl's eyes widen, and tears form, but she was strong and kept them in until Natalie was finished talking. She let little Zoey off of her lap, and I watched sadly as the little girl ran to Natalie's bedroom, flung herself on the bed, and cried for hours on end. This was me, for sure.