“So you have flashes of old memory, you say?”

I’m sitting in the office of a very high-end doctor, who apparently deals with memory loss, and its causes. I don’t know what they call him, but I know he’s the best in his field, and Erin pulled a lot of strings and probably paid more money than I’d like, to get me in to see him. I’m grateful to her, because I want to get to the bottom of whatever is going on, no matter what it takes.

I want to know who I am.

I want to remember.

“I wouldn’t even call it flashes,” I say, “It’s almost dreamlike, I never really see faces, just flashes of scenarios, or I feel a familiarity around certain things, or people. There are a few memories I can recall, from before...the incident. But they’re usually a big deal. Really big, dramatic, climactic things that I don’t think anyone would be able to forget. The rest is hazy. Just a mess.”

Dr Keaton nods.

“And you have experienced some injury to your head, yes?”

I nod. “Yes. I have. I have scars.”

He stands up and walks over to me, and I show him all my scars and where the injuries occurred. He nods, and takes notes, and then goes back to his desk, and takes a seat. “And drug use?”

“Yes, I was drugged. A lot in the first two years.”

We’ve been honest with Dr. Keaton about my ordeal, because it’s very hard for him to do a proper assessment if he doesn’t know what it is he’s dealing with. He needs to know, first hand, everything that may have affected my memory loss, and why.

“And you’re unsure what those drugs were?” he asks.

“I don’t know, sorry.”

“Okay,” he says, continuing to write down some notes, “I have a few theories, but obviously I’d like to run some tests, to find out more. Firstly, if we looked at just the trauma to your brain, and the use of drugs, we could contribute that to some of the memory loss, most specifically, the loss of memories just before the event, possibly two years prior or thereabouts. It would also add to the loss of some memories, during the event.”

I nod, listening. Erin is right beside me, holding my hand.

“Without a brain scan, however, we’re unable to see if there has been any sort of damage to the brain. Something as simple as lack of oxygen for too long, can cause significant memory loss.”

“I don’t...I don’t really recall any long periods without oxygen,” I tell him.

He nods, he has kind blue eyes, and when he speaks to me, he doesn’t make me feel...different.

“The other thing, and the most obvious one, I believe, would be post-traumatic memory loss. It comes under quite a few names, and research has shown, that it’s almost as if the brain is protecting itself. Memory repression is incredibly common when there has been a high level of psychological trauma. And while it seems strange, that after a while your brain wouldn’t just release the memories, there are cases where it has gone on for years, even decades in some cases, depending on the severity of the trauma. In your case, I’d consider your trauma severe.”

I swallow, and nod. “How can I remember what he did to me during those years, but not my life before...”

He shakes his head. “There could be many reasons. It’s incredibly hard to explain why the brain does what it does. Perhaps sub-consciously you wanted to forget those things, because it made it easier. The brain is so much more powerful than people could ever imagine, and therefore sometimes things happen, that we simply cannot explain.”

“Is there a chance I’ll get it back?” I say, hopefully, staring at him and praying for a good answer.

“Look, I can’t promise you anything. It is a positive that you are having flash backs when presented with a familiar sight, smell, person or object. That’s a good sign, it means there is a chance that over time, your brain will automatically start releasing memories. If some of the memory loss is from the trauma to your head, or the drug use, it could be harder to recover those memories. We won’t know until we do further testing. Unfortunately, most people have only one of the above problems that cause memory loss. You’ve been exposed to all of the factors, and because of that, it may be harder. But I assure you, we’ll do whatever we can, to recover what we can.”

I feel like my chest is going to cave in with disappointment. Not only have I got head injuries, but my brain has been damaged from drug use and to add to that, I’ve dealt with such severe psychological trauma that my brain is also trying to protect itself from. All those things combined is making it seem less and less likely that I’ll end up getting anything back.

I try not to cry, but I can feel the tears burning under my eyelids.

Dr. Keaton notices, and says, “Don’t give up hope, Ellie. You’re one of the worst cases I’ve been presented with, I won’t lie about that, but I’ve helped people for a good long time. I pride myself in it. I’m going to do whatever I can, so that at the very least, you’ll walk out of here knowing there is nothing else that can be done. We have therapies, and many different kinds of treatments we use to try and reconnect brain pathways. I won’t give up, until I know we’ve tried everything.”

That makes me feel grateful, and a little better.

“Thank you, for everything, I really appreciate it,” I tell him.

“You let us know what tests we need,” Erin says, “And we’ll get them done as soon as possible.”

Dr. Keaton nods. “I will give out everything you need, and set you up for all the tests. We’ll meet back here when I get the results of them all, and I’ll have more of a clear idea on the path to take that’ll get us where we need to go. Until then, I’ll give you a few things to try at home, to help connect the pathways again. It’ll all help.”

I nod, and we finish up. Erin pays for it, which I’m super grateful for, and then we leave. When we get back to Slater’s house, Erin is extremely positive and continues to tell me everything will be okay before she leaves and goes back to work. She doesn’t leave until Damon arrives, he’s my afternoon company, which I’m okay with because he’s the easiest person I find I can talk to. Slater makes me nervous, Lincoln is just...Lincoln, and Finn always seems unsure on what to say to me.

Damon and I...it almost feels effortless. Like we’ve just been best friends a million times over. And I’m thankful for that, because it makes my life that much easier.

“You look down,” he says once Erin is gone, and we walk out to the back deck and sit down.

“I guess...my life is in turmoil right now. I can’t work, I can’t go anywhere, I can’t have alone time, I’m trying to figure out my memory and I have a monster closing in on me, daily. Like I’m just waiting for him to appear and bring me down.”

“Firstly,” Damon says, frowning. “You have us, and while it might feel like everything is shit, we’re going to fix all of that for you. And secondly, that mother fucker so much as even breathes in your direction when any one of us is around, and we’ll have him lifeless on the ground without even asking questions.”

I smile, weakly, but it’s there, because it means a lot to me that they’d go to those lengths to protect me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, and I mean it. I mean it more than I’ve ever meant any thank you in my life. “I know I don’t remember much, but I’m so thankful you’re all here for me. I’m terrified, but when I’m around you all, I feel safe. And that’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a very very long time.”

Damon grins. “Well, that’s what we’re here for. Besides, most girls feel safe around me. It’s my manly presence.”

I laugh softly. “It most certainly is.”

“You know what we need?” he says, clapping his hands together.

“What?”

“We need to get drunk, and eat food, and laugh until our bellies hurt. It’s the best medicine for anything.”

Get drunk.

I haven’t...well, at least I don’t remember, having ever been drunk.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I hesitate.

“Ellie, you deserve to let go. You’re safe here, and you’re so wound up. It’s time you relaxed a little, and remembered how it feels to laugh.”

He has a point...but still.

I’m nervous about it.

I’ve not had alcohol as far as I know, what if it reacts badly?

“Look, you don’t have to drink much, if you don’t want. Have one, chill out with me, and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay, Damon,” I say, because honestly, I need to chill out. More than anything.

“I’m going to invite Scarlett and the girls over, they’re always a blast, and they’re funny as hell. That okay?”

I nod.

He gets out his phone and flings out a message. Then he goes inside for a few minutes and comes out with two drinks that look awfully...colorful.

“What in the hell are those?” I laugh.

“These, my sweet friend, are called sunrises. Don’t ask what’s in them, I made it up. But vodka...well...vodka. That’s all we need, right?”

I shrug. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He sits down beside me, turns some music on with his phone and then hands me my drink. I take a sip. It’s cool, and sweet, and there is a burn of something as it slides down my throat, but I like it. It’s definitely yummy.

“This is nice,” I say, nodding.

Damon grins. “Knew you’d like it. Haven’t met a girl that doesn’t.”

“This how you get girls, Damon?” I tease.

He smiles, big and broad. “You know, when you tease me like that, I almost forget that you don’t remember who I am.”

I lose my smile, and study him. “We were pretty close, you and I...weren’t we?”

“Yeah,” he says, and his eyes flash with something a little broken. “Yeah, we were best friends. I told you everything. You were the only thing I could rely on. When you went missing, we all felt it, too. But I guess Slater was so damaged, nobody ever said anything...and then we lost him too and well...yeah, shit got fucked up. Let’s just leave it at that and enjoy our night.”

“For what it’s worth,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “I know when I’m with you, that you were important to me. I can feel it. I’m so comfortable, the most like myself I am with anyone. I like it, and I hope maybe we can be friends again, even if I don’t remember everything.”

He grins. “Oh, we’re friends again, don’t you worry about that.”

I smile, big.

We keep drinking, and the girls arrive half an hour later, loaded up with alcohol, and pizza, and a lot of happy chatter. I can’t help but smile when they set themselves up around us, drinking some fancy pink drinks that they make me, and that is absolutely delicious.

“So, Ellie,” Chantelle says, rubbing her belly that’s growing fast, and sipping on her soda, “How are you liking living in hot-ville?”

I laugh softly. The alcohol is making me feel warm, and nice inside. Like it’s slowly taking the pain I carry around away, and leaving me with a relaxed, easy feeling that I’m not familiar with, but I like a whole lot. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean...”

She grins. “You’re living in the house of hot. I mean, it’s like you get a new hot body guard every day. That must be nice, at least on the eyes.”

I giggle. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Who do you think is the hottest?” Damon asks with a cheeky grin, crossing his arms.

“Have to be you, Damon, hands down.”

He chuckles and fist pumps the air. “Fuckin’ knew it!”

The girls all laugh.

“How is it living with Slater?” Charlie asks. “Is it awkward?”

She then looks to Damon. “You’re one of the girls for this next hour, so whatever we say, stays in this circle.”

Damon rolls his eyes. “Ellie and I are besties. I know everything about Slater.”

Charlie laughs. “Good, now, Ellie, back to the question.”

I sip my drink and shrug, “It’s not really awkward, no. He kind of feels like...I don’t know, like I’ve known him forever and it just doesn’t feel weird to be around him. He’s quiet, and sometimes I don’t know what to say, but he’s always kind, and he’s always helping me out.”

“He’s lovely,” Saskia sighs. “You’re a lucky girl. I’m coming for a sleep over, don’t tell Mason.”

I smile at her. “I won’t say a word.”

“Does he walk around shirtless?” Scarlett asks, fanning herself. “He’s got one hell of a body.”

I giggle, feeling light, and strange. “He does.”

“God. Ew.” Damon scrunches his nose. “This conversation is making me want to puke.”

“Don’t be jealous, Damon,” Charlie laughs. “I’m sure you look nice without a shirt.”

Damon crosses his arms, and all the girls glance at his biceps that are bulging. Yeah, he would most certainly look good without a shirt. He’s an incredibly attractive man.

“You’re damn right I would,” he says, “In fact, I’m feeling a little hot right now...”

He grabs his shirt and flicks it off, which makes all the girls laugh and squeal. I can’t help it, I burst out laughing too as Damon stands and starts strutting up and down the porch. And it feels good to laugh, so damned good. Like I’m finally free, like there is no horror, just happiness and a bright future.

That feels really nice.

“Put it away, Damon!” Scarlett laughs.

“Yeah, jesus!” Chantelle tosses at him.

“Poor Damon,” Amalie giggles.

Damon sits back down, sans shirt, and keeps his big shit eating grin.

“I’ll be taking numbers later.”

I roll my eyes, and he winks at me.

And for the first time in forever.

I actually feel at home.

~*~*~*~