I know I never talked about my mum. I know I never talked to my mum. Even amnesia can't get rid of that.
I don't know why I didn't. I mean, I think I was embarrassed, I guess. I always wanted a typical family. Mother, Father. Well at least I think I did, from what I've been told.
I guess that didn't happen.
I tended to resent my parents. Well mainly my mum, as my dad left, but...
I was stupid
But I don't regret a second of it
Stepping onto the front porch, I hesitated. Should I knock?
I can turn back now and forget about it, or I can get over myself and just go in and meet the excuse for a mother.
If only I could remember.
I felt an arm reach from behind me. A pale finger pushed the bell, the ringing flooding the house with noise. I turned and saw Luke standing there with a slight smirk on his face.
It quickly dispatched though, when the door opened and my mum appeared into view.
"Susannah?" she whispered.
I couldn't turn and face her. If I did I would have burst into tears.
"I've been so worried. Your friends wouldn't let me come visit you in the hospital, a-and I thought you'd never come home again..."
I took a deep breath and turned to see the unfamiliar face of my mum.
"Oh Suzy..." she cried, pulling me into her arms.
My limbs immediately went rigid as her bony arms wrapped around my small frame.
"Mum?" I started, a tear rolling down my face, "can I ask you something?"
"Anything, darling, anything,"
"Who are you?"
She placed a photo album on my lap, emitting dust into the air.
A thin layer of worry covered me.
I was scared.
My whole childhood was in this meek, little book which lay before me. The childhood I had lost, forgotten in amongst all of my other memories.
People would think it's fun getting to listen to these stories. Learn about your life from someone else's views.
But it's all a lie.
Everything they say about you is sugarcoated, and definitely not the truth.
They don't know what you were thinking, how you felt and neither do you.
No it's not fun. It's not fun at all.
My converse covered feet tapped a random beat on the chipped, wooden floor as I bit away my beaten up nails.
The page turned.
Luke grabbed my hand as I saw all the old memories, that I can't remember, leap off the pages. I felt a strange comfort in the warmth of his hand in mine. It kept me stable. If he let go I would probably break down.
"Are you okay?" he whispered, his lips brushing my ear.
I felt my breath hitch in my throat and he squeezed my hand.
"I'll give you a second," my mum said awkwardly.
She rose from her spot on the sofa and shuffled into the kitchen. Once the door shut I immediately dropped the book onto the coffee table, my head dropping into my hands at the same time.
Luke's hand ran up my back in a soothing manner, making me shiver.
"I can't do this, Luke, I really can't. Why can't I just have a normal life? Why can't I just start over? Because I'm so tired of trying to remember and it hurts. It hurts that I can't tell you I love you too because I don't know who you are! I'm tired of pretending that I know who my friends are. And I am sick and tired of..."
"Of what, Suzy," Luke stated clearly, staring me straight in the eyes. I couldn't tear away from his gaze.
"I tired of myself. I hate myself. I just want to leave this world. I want to live a different life in a different place with no strings attatched. The old Suzy is gone. And the new one is done with the medical diagnosis and the pills and the therapy groups and all the questions. All of the f*cking questions that really don't need answering."
Instead of a reply, though, Luke pulled me into a warm embrace. I rested my head against his chest, letting his unfamiliar scent take my body as his own.
"I don't need to know that love me. All I need is you here with me and that's enough."
"Little steps?" I asked.
"Little steps," he replied.
And this time I felt okay.