Memory Lock Preview: Chapter 3
Derenic carried me to bed after I fell asleep at the table. The nightmare must have worn me out. I roll to face the door and debate getting back out of bed to find Derenic and thank him for taking care of me after my hysteric post-nightmare freakout session. All of my limbs feel heavy and want me to stay in bed where they don’t have to support me.
I hear a thud in the kitchen, followed by the sound of pots and pans clattering to the floor. Voices penetrate the walls and I know someone is in the house, and it’s not Derenic. The man sounds angry. I hope Derenic is okay. I rise out of bed and quietly move to the door and put my ear against it. Although I can’t make out what they are saying, I can distinguish four different strange voices. I hear them rummaging through cabinets and drawers. I hear their footsteps moving throughout the house. A pair of feet approaches my door and I fear I may be up for a fight. The man tries to open the locked door.
“This must be it. It’s locked from the outside,” the man says. His voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. He begins to bang on the door with what sounds like a heavy object. Powerless, I back away from the door it won’t hit when it falls in.
Tiran, my fighting instructor, appears before me through the dust of the broken door and the surprisingly thin walls that crack along with it.
“Mari!” Tiran says . He throws his arms around me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, pulling back, bewildered.
“Saving you, of course! I’m so sorry I took so long!”
“I’m not in danger, Tiran. Why are you saving me from nothing?”
“I was ordered to bring you home, Mari, and that is what I will do.” Tiran picks me up with no difficulty. I try to escape from his arms, but my struggle is useless against his strength. He carries me to the front door and the other three men follow us.
Instead of opening to the sunlight, the front door opens to a sterile hallway, like the one from the pantry stairs. I wonder if the corridor will ever end as Tiran zigzags around its numerous corners. Finally, we arrive at a door to the outside and run from the building at full speed.
I look back at the building. It isn’t Derenic’s house at all. It’s a multi-story warehouse with no signs of domestic living.
My fear was right.
I was being held prisoner.
Those papers were about me.
What had they planned to do with me?
I bury my face into Tiran’s shoulder and cry. The rest of the trip is no more than a blur. I must have fallen asleep, because, once again, I wake up in someone else’s bed. I don’t want to get up. I want to fall back to sleep and forget the world for a while longer. I am so tired and confused. My head pounds with the force of a tidal wave.
The lamp turns on and I cover my head with the pillow, unwilling to face the events that landed me here.
“Mari?” I recognize Tiran’s voice. I must be in his house. “I know you’ve had a long few days, but we need to talk.”
“Go away,” I say. I don’t want to deal with this.
“No, Mari,” he says. “It is very important. We need to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened, Tiran. I was happy to be with Derenic, and then you came and said you were saving me. If something happened, I don’t know what it was,” I explain.
“We think a part of your memory has been erased, Mari.”
“Why do you say that?”
“How old are you, Mari?”
“I’m fifteen, Tiran.”
“And from that, I can conclude that you’ve lost about six years of your memory.”
“I’ve lost six years of my memory?” This is ridiculous.
“You’re 21 years old, Mari. It seems there is a lot we need to figure out.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask. If what he says is true and I really am 21, then there is good reason for me to worry now.
“I don’t know. We have to figure out how your memory was erased and how to reverse it. Why it has been erased is a good question for us to ask as well. I’m wondering if they deleted everything from the six years, or if they just took certain parts of your memory.”
“And how are we going to figure that out?” I ask.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m certain testing will be involved, especially concerning your brain activity.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“But Mari, there is something you need to know.”
“Something that is worse than finding out that I don’t remember six years of my life?”
“We don’t know if you’ll get your memory back. Ever. We’ve never seen anything like this before and we really don’t even know if it will be reversed. It might be best if you simply start putting the pieces together and try to reconstruct the last six years. While it is possible that you will never feel like you lived the memories, maybe you can at least find out what happened.”
At that news, I roll back over and put the pillow back over my ears. I don’t want to hear it, however true it might be.
I hear a thud in the kitchen, followed by the sound of pots and pans clattering to the floor. Voices penetrate the walls and I know someone is in the house, and it’s not Derenic. The man sounds angry. I hope Derenic is okay. I rise out of bed and quietly move to the door and put my ear against it. Although I can’t make out what they are saying, I can distinguish four different strange voices. I hear them rummaging through cabinets and drawers. I hear their footsteps moving throughout the house. A pair of feet approaches my door and I fear I may be up for a fight. The man tries to open the locked door.
“This must be it. It’s locked from the outside,” the man says. His voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. He begins to bang on the door with what sounds like a heavy object. Powerless, I back away from the door it won’t hit when it falls in.
Tiran, my fighting instructor, appears before me through the dust of the broken door and the surprisingly thin walls that crack along with it.
“Mari!” Tiran says . He throws his arms around me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, pulling back, bewildered.
“Saving you, of course! I’m so sorry I took so long!”
“I’m not in danger, Tiran. Why are you saving me from nothing?”
“I was ordered to bring you home, Mari, and that is what I will do.” Tiran picks me up with no difficulty. I try to escape from his arms, but my struggle is useless against his strength. He carries me to the front door and the other three men follow us.
Instead of opening to the sunlight, the front door opens to a sterile hallway, like the one from the pantry stairs. I wonder if the corridor will ever end as Tiran zigzags around its numerous corners. Finally, we arrive at a door to the outside and run from the building at full speed.
I look back at the building. It isn’t Derenic’s house at all. It’s a multi-story warehouse with no signs of domestic living.
My fear was right.
I was being held prisoner.
Those papers were about me.
What had they planned to do with me?
I bury my face into Tiran’s shoulder and cry. The rest of the trip is no more than a blur. I must have fallen asleep, because, once again, I wake up in someone else’s bed. I don’t want to get up. I want to fall back to sleep and forget the world for a while longer. I am so tired and confused. My head pounds with the force of a tidal wave.
The lamp turns on and I cover my head with the pillow, unwilling to face the events that landed me here.
“Mari?” I recognize Tiran’s voice. I must be in his house. “I know you’ve had a long few days, but we need to talk.”
“Go away,” I say. I don’t want to deal with this.
“No, Mari,” he says. “It is very important. We need to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened, Tiran. I was happy to be with Derenic, and then you came and said you were saving me. If something happened, I don’t know what it was,” I explain.
“We think a part of your memory has been erased, Mari.”
“Why do you say that?”
“How old are you, Mari?”
“I’m fifteen, Tiran.”
“And from that, I can conclude that you’ve lost about six years of your memory.”
“I’ve lost six years of my memory?” This is ridiculous.
“You’re 21 years old, Mari. It seems there is a lot we need to figure out.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask. If what he says is true and I really am 21, then there is good reason for me to worry now.
“I don’t know. We have to figure out how your memory was erased and how to reverse it. Why it has been erased is a good question for us to ask as well. I’m wondering if they deleted everything from the six years, or if they just took certain parts of your memory.”
“And how are we going to figure that out?” I ask.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m certain testing will be involved, especially concerning your brain activity.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“But Mari, there is something you need to know.”
“Something that is worse than finding out that I don’t remember six years of my life?”
“We don’t know if you’ll get your memory back. Ever. We’ve never seen anything like this before and we really don’t even know if it will be reversed. It might be best if you simply start putting the pieces together and try to reconstruct the last six years. While it is possible that you will never feel like you lived the memories, maybe you can at least find out what happened.”
At that news, I roll back over and put the pillow back over my ears. I don’t want to hear it, however true it might be.