Page 110 of This Love
Remember your life
Another told me I have a real dad.
Lots of them said not to trust Mother.
I have to run away.
* * *
2007 - Age 17
I’m going to the hospital.
* * *
My head snapped up. The hospital! I looked back the way I’d come, but I couldn’t see the building anymore. Maybe this would tell me what I needed to know! I clutched the book and continued reading.
* * *
Grandma Flowers asked a lot of questions, and now, Mother doesn’t let me see her.
Mother says in the hospital they will make a seizure happen on purpose, so they can study my brain and figure out how to help me.
I know I will lose my memory again. And Mother will be in the room.
I’ll have to hide the notes I’ve put together. But I’ll need them. No telling what she could do there. I don’t know what her plan is. She says it’s to help me, but my gut says no.
I’m scared.
I’m going to take my biggest textbook History of the World and tape these notes inside. I’ll have to break all my rules. Removing pages from my notebook. Carrying them with me. Rules that have kept me sane and let me know the things Mother wants to hide.
I won’t take everything. I’m not crazy. I’m making double and triple copies of things, writing it all out again and again, especially the warning.
I’ll make it through somehow.
Wish me luck.
* * *
The trees rustled, and I realized it was getting dark. The white page glowed in the dying light but was getting hard to read.
Alarm filled me. I couldn’t stay here. I needed light.
I peered through the trees. There was a glow near the street. And benches. I itched my legs. That would be better than the ground.
I gathered my things. Toothbrush bag. Chocolate bar. Empty Mountain Dew. Pill bottle. Notebook. Keys. Clothes.
The blanket was still on my lap. I lifted it to my nose again. I compared the smell to the other clothes. It was different. The clothes seem familiar. But the blanket didn’t. Why was that?
I had no idea. I put it all away and zipped the bag.
The light fell so fast by the time I started walking that I kept losing my footing on the rough terrain. But I aimed for the light and finally broke through the trees to the road.
I could sit on the sidewalk and read, but it felt so open, so dangerous. I wished I had a hood to pull up like some of the people who had walked by me earlier.
Instead, I kept my head down as I decided which way to go. Back toward the hospital or to someplace new?
The decision was easy. There was a covered bench ahead. It had a top and sides, creating a small shelter. I headed for it, planning to scrunch into the corner while I read. But when I reached it, another man was already there, drinking from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag.
