Page 90 of One Step Behind
‘I don’t think so.’ You shake your head. ‘No, definitely not. I would remember if I did things like that. I’m not like that.’
‘Take a look at your phone if you don’t believe me.’
‘I don’t have my phone. It got lost when I was hit by the bus.’
‘You’re lying. I saw it in your bag.’
‘I’m not. I haven’t seen it since I woke up.’ Your cheeks flush and you fidget in your chair and push a finger in between the cast and the skin on your arm.
‘This itches like hell,’ you say, as though the last few minutes haven’t happened.
A part of me wants to jump up then and search your things, but what is the point? I’m not here to prove what you’ve done. I know that already.
‘When you were hit by the bus, it stopped for a while. And now it’s started again. Who is doing this for you? Is it Rachel?’
‘Who?’
Frustration throngs my body and I sigh.
‘Rachel Finley.’
‘Do I know her?’ you ask. Your lips twitch at the edges just a little, but I see it. You’re fighting a smile. You’re enjoying this.
‘Yes.’
‘My memory is still a bit sketchy, especially the new stuff. Did you know someone pushed me into the road? The police came to talk to me.’
I pull out the crumpled photo from my bag and throw it over to him. ‘I took this from your bedroom wall. It’s Rachel.’
‘You’ve been in my house?’ Your face changes, the mask slipping just long enough for me to see a darkness, like a storm cloud blocking the sun. Your eyes narrow and your jaw tightens.
The moment passes and you find your mask, your lost Boy Scout look.
‘You’ve been in mine,’ I shoot back, sounding stronger than I feel inside.
Your eyes stare at the photo of Rachel and then back at me. ‘I like to take photos.’
‘Who is helping you? Who left the dolls on my doorstep this morning?’
‘I’m getting tired now.’
The nurse from the front desk appears as though you’ve said the magic words. ‘That’s your ten minutes, I’m afraid. We do like to be strict here as rest is so critical to brain injury recovery, but we do encourage you to come back.’
He holds the door open for me and I’ve no choice but to leave.
‘Jenna,’ you call as I reach the doorway.
I turn around and you push yourself off the chair and stand. ‘I remember watching you.’
A chill travels down my spine and my mouth drops open but no words come out.
‘It’s not what you think,’ you say, reaching for a pair of crutches.
‘What is it then?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
The nurse touches my arm, shooing me from the room, but I glance back a final time and see your eyes scrunched up tight and your free hand clenched into a fist.
