Lost Memories

Being in a mental hospital could never be easy.

That's what nineteen-year-old Amelia realises when she meets Bradley Hunter. A guy who manages to make her feel like she's worth something, in the midst of battling her own demons and walking the road to recovery. They develop an intense, strong emotional connection that is unlike anything the both of them have ever experienced.

But Amelia feels as if Bradley is oddly familiar, the sense of safety and comfort she feels with him is something she has never witnessed.
Bradley struggles with the memories that come back to haunt him, but will they be the reason for Bradley to lose Amelia forever, or to heal her wounds?


11. Chapter Eleven.



'What else do you remember from that night?'

I let out a breath I'd been holding. 'It's all just a blur, it all happens so fast.'

Dr. Johns set her clipboard down and leaned in closer. 

'Where were you? Do you remember that?'

I hadn't realised how hot it was in this room until I felt the suffocating air all around me.

'Um..I think it was on our porch,'I got out, my breathing escalating. 

'What do you see when you have the flashback?'

My head was beginning to spin as the images flashed before my eyes. 

'I'm crying on the ground, and someone is laying in front of me, it looks like they're not moving,'I say in a clipped voice, trying to tell her as much as possible, trying my hardest to pull the image into focus. 

'Is there anyone around? Do you hear anything?'

'I think I hear someone screaming..and, and I can smell it..'I say, my eyes still squeezed shut and my knees brought up to my chest.

'What can you smell, Amelia?'

Dr. Johns' voice was going further and further away. 

'The blood, I can see it..'

I felt her hand on my leg, and it shook me back to reality, the memory slowly fading in my mind. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks, and I quickly wiped my tears away. 

Dr. Johns handed me a glass of water, which I took a few sips of. 

'You did good today, I'm proud of you,'she said with a smile, her hand on my arm. I smiled back, even though I still felt trapped inside.

After my breathing had returned to normal, I left the room and stood by the wall outside, resting my head on the cold brick. 

I wished I could just smell the freshness of the air outside, to feel the wind in my hair and to feel..free. I felt trapped inside of this place, the only encounter I had with the outside world were the windows displaying light into my room, as if they were teasing me, giving me only streaks of sunlight, but not enough to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. 

I didn't want to drink out of plastic cups or wait in line to get my food, or talk so much about my issues, that I was forgetting the person I was before I was admitted. 

But most of all, I wished I was normal, not this ghost of a girl who'd been robbed of her childhood, and brought to face the cruel reality of life far too early. 

So I went to the library, and lost myself in the stories of other fictional characters. When I was reading, I felt like I was apart of that life, a life that didn't consist of sitting in a mental hospital, but doing everything else someone as old as me should be doing instead. 

'Hey there.'

I lifted my head from the current book I was reading, and saw Bradley leaning against the wooden shelf of books in front of me. He was wearing a black shirt, and his jeans hugged his body in just the right places. His hair was still damp from the shower he'd had, and the stubble on his jaw was unshaven, but the look suited him. He was definitely a pretty sight, and I might have let out a small sigh when I looked at him. Bloody beautiful. 

'Hey,'I replied, closing my book and placing it down on the shelf.

'Haven't seen a lot of you today,'he said, and stepped closer to me. He placed his hand on the small of my back. My breathing turned ragged with him so close to me, his scent lingering in the air. I squeezed my eyes, facing the reality of me and him.

Sooner or later, we'd be released and when we left here, he'd forget all about me. Because why, might someone like him stick with someone like me? I get it, in here you practically need someone to connect with, but in the real world there are other people. Other people without such large issues, other people who are easier to be with. 

Right. Reality is a bit of a bitch. 

'I had a session earlier and I've just been reading,'I said flatly, avoiding eye contact as I busied myself studying the patterns on the carpet underneath my feet. 

'How did it go?'he asked, giving my hand a light squeeze.


I started to walk away, wanting more than anything to tell him every detail about my session with Dr. Johns today, about how the memories of my past seem to keep haunting me and it's getting difficult for me to piece the puzzle together. 

But I didn't, because I wasn't going to make myself vulnerable again. 

'Amelia,'he said from behind me, and I internally cursed to myself as I turned around.

'What's the matter?'he asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

'Nothing, I just have a headache that's all,'I lied, and forced a smile before walking off, all the while I felt a rush of guilt and regret wash through me. 




I carefully examined the photo in my hands, soaking up every detail I could find. It was of me, my mom and stepdad, and we were all standing close together, their hands on my shoulders and we were smiling for the camera. If you looked closely enough, though, you could see a blue mark just above my shoulder, where my stepdad's hand was placed. He didn't cover the whole length of the bruise, so only a tiny bit was showing, but I could notice it.

And I also knew that it wasn't just my shoulder covered in that blue bruise. It was my arms, my stomach, my legs and my neck. The whole body of a fragile seven year old was covered in bruises, and the girl I looked at was staring back at me, emptiness so evident in her being it made me want to rip the photo into ten million pieces.

But I knew that if I did, I'd regret it later. Because when I was done here, all better and recovered, I wanted to look back on this photo and see how far I've come from that hollow shell of a girl I was made to be.

The letter. I felt my lungs somehow squeeze together whenever I thought about it. All my life, I remember my mom being the blond haired woman with the coral pink lipgloss covering her lips at all times, always so put together. I remember her seeing her husband hit me one time, and she just looked at the situation with sad eyes and walked away. 

Could a mother really walk away from someone abusing their own child? I'd always thought I just got unlucky with my parents, childhood, life. But what if this woman I'd referred to as mom my whole life, wasn't actually my mother? The thought was terrifying, but it also made the thought of her not caring about whether I was being hit or not, easier to bear.

I wanted answers. No. I needed answers. 

I placed the photograph back in my drawer, burying it at the very bottom. 

'For fucks sake!'

I jumped to the sound of a voice yelling outside, and I took a step towards my door.

'Calm down,'another voice said.

'I can't just fucking calm down!'

Wait. I knew that voice. My door flew open and I saw Bradley in the coridor, with Dr. Montgomery and a security man surrounding him. His knuckles were bleeding, and the sight made my heart sink.

His eyes found mine instantly, and I could see they were teary. I recognized that desperation and pain better than anyone.

'W-what happened?'I choked out, a sob threatening to escape me.

'Amelia, it's better if you don't ask questions,'Dr. Montgomery spoke, and Bradley let out a cold laugh.

He was angry, I could figure that, but I wanted to know the source of it. So I leaped forward in attempt to reach him, but was stopped by the hands of the security man.

'Miss, this is not your place to intervene,'he said sternly, as he held me back.

I could feel the tears coming now, as Bradley was held back by Dr. Montgomery and another security guard, his face in utter need and hurt. 

'Let go of me!'I shrieked, but the grip on my arms didn't loosen. I needed to wrap my arms around him so badly, that it was making it hard to breathe.

'I'm sorry,'Bradley said as he was whisked off, but as he was rounding the corner, these two men holding him, he locked eyes with me, as tears kept rolling off my cheeks. He was taken around the corner, and out of my sight. 

The security man let go of me, finally, and I stormed inside of my room. 

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