Chapter 12 (Edited)

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We drove many miles that I lost count. My back started to ache and itch, from where I had the small scratches. "Where are we going?" I asked for maybe the fifth time this hour.

"Alaska," Mr. Matthews said, again, getting annoyed by my constant asking. "We have to go to Alaska to get back to Angesia, since you don't have your Key."

"And my Key is..." I raised an eyebrow, trying to see if I can't get some answers from them. He grunted a little annoyed and didn't say anything. "Come on, Mr. Matthews," I said rolling my eyes. "It's not like I don't remember anything about this crap."

"It's David," he replied with a small snap in his voice. "My father's Mr. Matthews." He looked up at me, his gray eyes filled with anger. "And why can't you be asleep like Laura or Ralph?"

I looked at the 18 year old boy besides me and looked back then looked back at David, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't know," I said, sarcastically. "Maybe the reason that I can't sleep is that my back is itching and I can't scratch it. I'm getting placed into something that I can't remember. And I found out that I'm a real Princess, even though for eight years I lived with this freaking amnesia state and I want answers."

Mr. Matthews, whom I'm now start going to call David, sighed a little. The anger in his eyes seemed to fade from them, leaving tiredness behind. "So you want to know where you're from and stuff like that?" he asked.

"Pretty much," I replied. I was curious about this. It's not my fault that I'm curious about who I am or was. I want to remember, and I want to see if I'm something bigger than the wallflower picture that I had painted of myself for the last eight years.

David didn't say anything as he pulled into Wal-Mart. "We'll discuss it later," he said. "Right now we need to get you a new outfit. Maybe a big overcoat."

"But it's the middle of spring. How are we going to find an overcoat at Wal-Mart, when they won't have any," I replied as I took off my seatbelt with a groan. "And can't we talk about it now?"

"Nope," David replied. He looked at me and smirk. "And with your other question, all we have to do is look in the right place."

I hid back a shudder as something in his eyes made me a little more nervous than I had felt. I mean, I'm an 18 year old girl with an 18 year old boy that I seem to remember, but I don't, a mean teacher who was supposed to act mean at me, and maybe a psychotic male, who seems to think that there would be overcoats at Wal-Mart in the middle of spring.

Can someone just shoot me now with a tranquilizer and send me to the mental institution?

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