I storm out of the school and into the car park. Screw attendance, I'm going home. I open my car door and climb into the passenger seat. It's then when I spot him. The man with the scarred face – he's sat in the car next to me. My heart rate accelerates, and the cogs in my brain begin to turn as a memory erupts from darkness.
His hand is cool in mine. "Did you enjoy the theatre, button?" He asks me. I swing our arms and nod my head quickly. We pass an alley way and voices begin to emerge.
"Look who it is." A man with a scar down his face jeers. "Where's my money, Jared?"
"Dan, please, I swear I will get it back to you!" Uncle Jared says, panic in his voice. The scarred man laughs, raising a black object in his hand.
"Wrong answer." And the gun shoots.
I come out from the flashback in a sweat. What was that? Heart rate high, I step on the accelerator and zoom out of the car park. I was right, there was a reason that I recognized the man with the scarred face, Dan. But who is Uncle Jared, and why can't I remember him?
As I pull into my driveway I question whether the flashback was real. It could have just been a figment of my imagination. But it felt so real. I rush into the house to find it as empty as I left it. Thank God. I really don't think I could deal with Kaidan's mood today.
Confusion eats away at me as I consider the flashback. Was it even a flashback? My mind could not have made that up. Unless I'm going crazy. But I'm not going crazy, because Dan is real. Does that mean Uncle Jared is real? My mind reels continuously, and my only resolution is to turn to Google. Not the most reliable of sources, but it might help me all the same.
'Are flashbacks real?'I type into the browser.
A flashback, or involuntary recurrent memory, is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual has a sudden, usually powerful, re-experiencing of a past experience or elements of a past experience. Wikipedia reads. A past experience. That means it could have happened, but then why can't I remember it?
My mind immediately flashes to my grandfather, who was diagnosed with dementia when I was six. I barely remember him, and my parents never let me visit him in his care home. They always told me that he was aggressive, and he had no idea who I was.
But I can't have dementia. You're brought up to believe that dementia is something that manifests itself when you're older – hardly something you have to trouble yourself with when you're only seventeen. So, I decide to google 'Forms of memory loss'. My heart leaps in my chest as the first link pops up. I click on it and begin to read the article. It lists several forms of amnesia, such as retrograde, anterograde, transient global and a couple of others that don't apply to me. And then my stomach drops as I reach the last one.
Dissociative amnesia:
Severe trauma or stress can also cause dissociative amnesia. With this condition, your mind rejects thoughts, feelings, or information that you're too overwhelmed to handle.
Trauma. Trauma like seeing someone being shot, like the flashback. It seems far-fetched, but a feeling of dread is pooling in my stomach, telling me that I could be right. I feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears, and suddenly they're cascading down my face, and sobs are racking through my body. How could this have happened? And if it did happen, then have my parents been keeping it from me? Have I been lied to my entire life?
The sound of the door shutting brings me back to the present. I need to talk to my parents, because if they have been lying to me, then they have some serious explaining to do.
I wipe the tears from under my eyes and rush downstairs to see Kaidan and Dad in the kitchen. Dad gives me a smile, and Kaidan doesn't even register my presence.
"Have you been crying, Grace? Your eyes look red." Dad asks me in a concerned voice. I sniff and fold my arms.
"Who is Uncle Jared, Dad?" The words come out of my mouth so quickly I can't stop them. But as I see his face whiten, I realize I was right to have my doubts. I'm not going crazy.
"What do you mean?" Dad tries to play the fool. Kaidan looks between us, finally acknowledging my presence.
"You know exactly what I mean." I'm being overconfident in the hope that he won't lie to me. I could be wrong, this could all be a figment of my imagination. But the look on Dad's face tells me that it's not.
"I should leave." Kaidan says awkwardly, sensing the tension in the room. He begins to leave, but I put my arm across the door.
"No, you're staying. I want you to witness this so he can't lie." I tell him, my voice fiery. Kaidan looks to Dad, who just shakes his head. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Kiddo, everything I do in life is because I love you." He begins, and I roll my eyes. 'I love you' is not a get out of jail free card, Dad.
"Just tell me. Tell me who Jared is." I demand. Dad exhales, his face now an ashy tone.
"Jared was my brother." And those four words make my life turn upside down. Memories of strolling in the park, going to the movies, eating ice cream rush into my brain like a tsunami. Uncle Jared.
"Why don't I remember him?" Tears form in my eyes once again. Dad's eyes soften and he attempts to put his hand on mine, but I swat it away.
"Grace, now is really not the time~"
I cut him off. "Why don't I remember him?" I shout, tears trickling down my cheeks now. How dare he lie to me.
"Jared was shot after he took you to see your favorite play. You watched him die." Dad's voice is croaky, and I can see tears forming in his eyes too. My flashback, the one with Dan, the scarred man. It was real.
"I remember." I manage, before breaking down into a sob. "I saw him." I let the tears fall down my face, because memories of Jared are slowly slotting into place. He was my best friend.
"You saw him?" Dad asks, his voice breaking. I shake my head.
"I saw the shooter. He was at my school." I tell him, and Dad's face drops.
"Why on earth was he at a high school?" Dad asks, anger in his voice. I shrug my shoulders, before wiping away my tears.
"I really have no idea."
*
I'm going to see a doctor later. Dad didn't want me to, because he's worried about me breaking down again. But I need to know why I forgot those memories of Jared.
I pack my handbag in my room, and I'm interrupted by a knock on the door. I tell whoever it is to come in, only to see Kaidan with a solemn look on his face.
"Not now, Kaidan." I huff, feeling too drained to deal with his mood today. He cocks his head to one side.
"Rob wants me to accompany you to the psychiatrist since you refuse to go with him." He tells me formally, as if he's been scripted.
"I'm fine by myself." I tell him, swinging my backpack over my shoulder. Kaidan places his arm in front of me to block the door way.
"You don't have a choice. I'm coming." He tells me, his voice monotone. I sigh and roll my eyes.
"Whatever." I storm past him and make my way down the stairs, and then out of the house. I climb into the passenger seat of the car, Kaidan shortly behind me. We drive in silence, and for the life of me I can't figure out what he's thinking. His face is stony, but I can detect a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.
I think he cares about me.
We pull into the hospital and I feel my heart leap in my chest. I am about to find out what is wrong with me. I really hope I'm not crazy.
Once we're in the waiting room, it seems like hours until the nurse comes out, and my name comes from her lips. My stomach drops and I gulp. Here we go. I stand up, saying bye to Kaidan before following the nurse down a corridor, and then into a room.
"Afternoon, Grace." The doctor stands up and shakes my hand. "I'm Doctor Kingston."
"Hi." I sit down in the chair and link my hands together, rubbing my palms anxiously. "I, um, I think I have some sort of amnesia." I say, unsure of how to phrase it. I bet they get all sorts of cases of people diagnosing themselves with diseases off google.
"Have you been having problems with your memory?" He asks me seriously. I exhale and nod.
"I recently have been remembering things from when I was younger. Six, I think. After I experienced my Uncle die." I tell him, and he manages to keep his face straight.
"I see. How many memories have returned?" He asks.
"I forgot that my Uncle even existed. It's as if my memory completely wiped him out after he died." I say, my voice shaky. He nods and gives me a small smile.
"Okay, Grace. Are there any other, more recent, cases of memory loss?" He asks me, and I shake my head. He nods, and turns to his computer, before pulling up a document.
"Your medical history does not indicate any head injuries around the time of the memory loss, nor brain diseases." He tells me, frowning. "And assume you were not intoxicated when you were six." He jokes, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. I shake my head and chuckle.
"Okay, Grace. Your memory loss is not associated with brain injury, which is good. I'm going to run an MRI to check if your brain is looking normal." He tells me, giving me a warm smile. I let out a shaky breath. He tells me to follow him, and so I do.
The next couple of hours blur together as I'm wheeled from one room to the next, into a strange room with a white dome. Doctors place me in the machine for some time before wheeling me back to the original room.
Doctor Kingston returns to the room. "Good news Grace, the CT revealed that your brain is normal. I am going to refer you to our resident psychiatrist who will perform an examination on you." He tells me. I frown.
"Is that it? Can't you just tell me what's wrong with me?" I ask him, feeling anger biting at my tone. All of those elaborate measures, exposing my brain to radiation, all for him to tell me that my brain is normal?
"There is nothing medically wrong with you, Grace. And, believe it or not, that is a good thing." He places his clipboard down on the table and passes me a piece of paper. "The psychiatric wing can be found by taking the elevator to the third floor, and then just follow the signs. I've paged Doctor Hanson, our resident psychiatrist, he'll be waiting for you." I sigh and take the paper from his hand, before walking out of the room.
Kaidan stands up when he sees me, looking at me with questioning eyes.
"We're going to the Psychiatric wing." I tell him.
"Did the doctor tell you what's wrong?" He asks me with concern in his voice. I shake my head.
"Apparently there's nothing wrong with me, medically speaking. Just crazy." I put my finger to my temple and circle it. Kaidan chuckles.
"You're not crazy, Grace." He tells me, but I just shake my head, because I am.