Relay my life starting with yours

Finding himself alone with no memory of his own life can he rely on his supposed Friends word as he try's to tell him of the past from his own perspective?.


1. My Life

Pain erupts down my spine as my back connects with the muddied soil, my elbows jerk backwards in reflex and a numbing sensation takes over as my funny bones meet the ground.

“The past molds our present and our present molds our future,” a voice vibrates in my ear; each word is overlapping the next, which makes it almost impossible to make out.

“We cannot change the past, all we can do is strive for the future,” it mumbles again, this time clearer.

Gritting my teeth, I struggle up into a seated position, forcing my bleary eyes open to focus on the owner of the voice.

“The future is the consequence of our past…,” again I hear the voice, but looking around, I could only see the murky outlines of trees and a small sphere of light that, for a moment, I  thought was the moon, but that was before it started to drift along my line of sight.

“Brian!” a new voice broke out, as the light began to grow.

As the world around me became clearer, I could make out more of the noises that inhabited the woods that I was in.

Moving my arms more securely under my slanted body, I pushed up, shakily lifting myself onto my feet.

At first, my feet wobbled and ached with pins and needles causing me to fall sideways onto a tree to my left, the movement rustling some leaves.

The light had frozen for a second before coming closer with more speed, and soon, another outline could be seen.

“Brian!” the voice belonged to a hunched man running towards me, dodging branches and holding a flashlight in his right hand. His left arm kept up in a cast, which had silly scribbles on it, including inappropriate drawings that were most likely from one of his close friends.

I managed to steady myself into standing, just as he was in arms reach.

“Brian, I've been looking for you everywhere!” the man exclaimed, confusing me, I did not have any knowledge of this man and as far I knew – my name wasn't Brian, but then again, I couldn't even think of what my name was.

“Who are you?” I questioned, taking note of my scratched up voice. I examined the man in front of me.

He had light brunette hair and a strange reddish tint to his eyes in which I presumed to be brown. Other than his arm, he looked to be in good shape. His white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a firm muscled chest that rippled any time he took in a breath.

His expression was one of confusion, but then turned into realization and horror.

“You can’t remember?” the man asked, before looking down and almost dropping the flashlight. Now that his head was bowed I could see a small scar that ran up from the back of his left ear and up to his hair line.

“No,” I simply answered, not wanting to make this too complicated.

Biting his lip, the man looked up again and stood up straight, he stood a foot or two taller than me.

“I will explain everything later, we need to get you to bed before your fever returns,” he promised, putting his flashlight in a way that it was facing forward on his cast, while the other one went around my back, making me stiff in caution.                                                

As he led me ‘home’ I couldn't help but notice his expression, his eyes were fixated to the front of us but wavering in emotional pain, his lips pressed into a thin line

“It’s not that far until we reach the house,” he said, realising that I was staring at him; he smiled in reassurance – barely hiding his previous expression.

Once we had made it to a clearing, a house had come into view still far off but noticeable.

“Nearly there,” the man informed me, obviously starting to struggle with the long walk, he looked to have ran beforehand, probably while he was looking for me.

 It took only a few minutes until the house was towering in front of us, we were to the back of it and I noticed there was no backdoor or windows on this side of the house.

“A building flaw,” he just stated, answering my silent question. “It was originally going to be the other side but they changed the building plan for it to go with the surrounding forests.”

Nodding quietly, I allowed him to lead me to the front and inside the house.

“You said you'd explain everything once we were here,” I informed, a bit weary of going any further into his den.

Humming in agreement, he took me over to a door to the right and opened it revealing a small space consisting of a medium queen-sized bed and a shelf holding a vast collection of books.

“I’ll tell you everything once you get your butt into bed,” he said in a joking manner, letting a small smile grace his lips, seemingly pleased by what I had said.

I found myself blushing at his smile, my mind now thinking against planning a frivolous escape.

“What's your name?” I asked as I allowed myself to calm down feeling as though he was to be trusted and that he was not planning anything that would land me in a new type of hell.

Helping me onto the bed, the man’s smile fell.

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” he questioned, his face going dark in worry and…regret? “Gray, my name’s Gray,”

I was about to ask another question, when the flash of something blinding skid across the floor in alarming speed, after crashing through a window to the left.

“Ba*****,” the newly labelled Gray hissed under his breath, storming over to the object and leaving my side.

“What was that?” I asked, now concerned with my own safety.

Sighing my host took the thing in his hand and returned next to the bed, where he revealed to me what it had been.

“A silver acorn,” he announced out loud, before pocketing it. “It’s from my truck, no doubt they've trashed that as well,”

Licking my lips in confusion, I slowly got up from the bed, much to Gray’s disapproval, and moved over to the window, looking out I saw that the people had indeed destroyed his vehicle.

“I guess you’re not liked by the locals,” I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

Turning towards him, I found that my comment had hit a few buttons.  

“It’s not me they have quarrels with,” he spat, making me unnerved.

 Linking eyes, he cursed – realizing his mistake.

“Sorry, just a little annoyed, that was our only transportation into town,” he explained, forcing a grin, he continued, “looks like we’re stuck here for a while, they might still be out there.”

Nodding, I went back over to the bed and sat down on the edge.

“Who are you?” I asked, making my voice a bit heavier so that he got my meaning.

Catching on, he bit his lip.

“I was your best friend and a fellow class mate, I lived alone, you lived with a dad who didn't understand you, we were ‘tight’,” he answered jokingly. “You were seen as a ‘different’ individual due to your taste…”

Frowning, I leaned back a bit to let it sink in a little.

“Why was I seen as ‘different’?” I queried, looking at him with suspicion.

He cleared his throat and went to sit next to me.

“You know my arm?” he questioned, pointing to his arm in a cast.

I nodded in reply, not sure where this was heading.

“You did this to me,” he said, opening it so that his arm was exposed to show two singular marks, with the surrounding skin bruised into a dark purple, signalizing the loss of blood.

Taken back, I quickly diverted my gaze to the floor and began studying the slowly rotting floor boards.

“Tell me everything,” I ordered, refusing to look back up.

I heard Gray sigh before he complied with my request.

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