Untouched: Book 1 of The Unforgettable Series [SLOW UPDATE DUE TO SCHOOL]

Chapter One: Memories

     I remember the day my life ended.

     I could feel the shocked look on my face as the doctor told me he was 'very sorry'. My mind rushed through time back to when my mother was alive. I remembered her pain, and our loss. And I wasn’t sure I was able to go through it again.

     “Scarlet?” The doctor would try to get me to come back to reality, but I stay hidden in my childhood.

     “Mom?” I would ask, little seven year old me. “Why can’t they just take it out?” I was so innocent, and I didn’t know it was much more complicated.

     “There’s too much,” She would say, petting my head.

     “Scarlet?” The doctor waved his arm in front of me, making me snap out of my trance. I wish I had stayed hidden. If I stayed hidden, I might have been able to forget. My family walked into the room, and that’s when I wanted to just disappear. Dissolve into the cot I was sitting on and stay there until it went away. But it wasn’t going to go away.

     What hurt me the most was the sound coming from my father as the doctors told him the bad news, he cussed and punched and had tantrums every chance he got. He would caress my cheek before stomping out of the room and uncontrollably cry. I would tell him that I would be fine, and that we would get through everything we could. He nodded but I know he didn’t believe my words.

      And I remember my brother storming out into the streets. When he saw me lying on the not – so – comfortable hospital bed for the first time, he told me everything was just on replay. How God has no plans for our family and that everything is just going to end up like the past. But as I lay there on that bed for days, even weeks at a time, he started to pity. Although I couldn’t stand it, I embraced it. My mother would always say,

     “Their pity can do you no harm.”

     And one of my worst memories was the look on my boyfriend’s face when I finally had the guts to tell him. It brought back the scared little girl I was when my mother told my father she had cancer. And for a moment I believed we were on replay, but I made the best of it.

     “Scarlet…” Blake begged, “You can tell me.”

     I remember when I finally spoke up and whispered to him 3 feet away, “I have cancer.” The look on his face is what I wish I could forget. He acted calm and supporting in front of me, but when I turned around he raged. He would cry every time he would see me lying cold and rigid in the hospital bed.

     It seems that everyone was more miserable than I was. Even though I was the one who had to go through the excruciating pain.

     My family took it harder the second time around. With my mother, things were different. She was stronger than I was. She always was. I loved my mother, so much you can’t even imagine. She was my best friend, she was my life. And she still is. But when she told us her bad news when I was about eight, life wasn’t the same. And by life, I’m referring to her. She changed, physically.

     She didn’t let it get the best of her though, she was always the same happy chipper person she always was. She would always read me my bedtime stories, and play house with me in the backyard. And through all her pain, she never let me down. We were the closest as close could be. We would feel each other’s heartbeats, and braid each other’s hair. She would let me dress up in her clothes and we would take pictures.

     I still have the pictures, those are the memories that help me through the night. Memories I would never let myself forget. But most memories, I wish I could. Watching her suffer was the hardest thing I had ever gone through, even worse than going through it myself. My mother would always take me in her arms and tell me that everything was going to be okay. And I believed her for a while.