There's not really much to say. I'm being forced to go to bed, so there's not really much I can say. I've been rewatching some old episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender in preparation of the movie. I'm really excited for the movie even though it's getting really bad reviews. Noah Ringer looks amazing. I mean, he's gotta be good to be a black belt in Taekwondo and only 13.
That's all I've been doing really.
So moving on, before I get another shout from the parents, here's chapter 13 of Do You Remember Me? It's just one scene in this chapter. I know, what's wrong with me? I was going to put something else in there too, then I kinda got carried away.
Anyway, next chapter will probably have a bit more to it. You know, a bit more substance. I've got 52 hits on fictionpress, so that's a good thin, right? Well, considering I get loads more on fanfiction, but this is a harder industry. No one reads on fictionpress. Well, I never do. I can never seem to get into their stories. It's all amateur work. Like mine, so everything a bit... predictable. That's why I'll only be posting the first draft. Same for here too. If I want to get it published it's gotta be decently secret, right? Loads of stuff is hopefully going to change about the story.
Moving on, here we go. Enjoy, before I start ranting again.
Chapter 13.
“Please, sit down.” Mrs Connor said to me. She seemed like a nice lady. Her brunette hair tied loosely into a bun at the base of her neck. She had delicately tanned skin, and brown glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, she wore a skirt and a dress shirt. She looked smart.
“Uh, right.” I replied, sitting down on the sofa she’d indicated to.
“So… Daniel Smith. Ah, right. Your mother called me, asking for an appointment and further treatment to help you overcome your Post-traumatic amnesia.” She said, not looking up from me. She was reading from a small manilla folder.
“Yeah.” I replied, it was sure awkward here.
“So, what seems to be the issue? Your mother seemed quite anxious about your behaviour.” She looked at me now, her gaze penetrating me.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, she’s just worried.”
“Well, obviously she’s quite worried about your health if she’s calling me, unsure of what to do.” She just looked at me, her gaze never faltering. “Let’s not talk about your mother. How have you been feeling lately?”
“I’m not sure how to feel at the moment.”
“And why’s that?”
“I feel like I’m upsetting my parents. I’m not sure how I should act. I don’t want to disappoint them and remind them that I’m not the person that they were hoping to get back.” I didn’t know why I was saying this to her.
“So, your feeling alienated?”
“When did I say that?” I asked rudely.
“You constantly feel the presence of your parents. You don’t want to disappoint them.”
“Yeah, but, it’s not just that. I don’t want to upset them. I know I’m just a reminder to them of who I used to be.” I looked at the floor. “I know they can’t stand to see me. It’s like they never got their son back at all.”
“Is there something else that seems to be bothering you?”
Yes, it what I wanted to say; “No.” is what I said instead. I didn’t know what to say to her. She’d try and analyze me.
“I know there’s something bothering you.” She intertwined her fingers and supported her head on her hands. “Is it the fact you can’t remember?”
“No.”
“Because, in some cases, people worrying over not getting their memory back, sometimes keeps the memories away. Is there something you think your trying to hide from yourself? Something happened and your unconsciously hiding it?”
“I was suspected as being tortured… I think that usually counts as ‘wanting to hide something’, don’t you?” I liked being sarcastic.
“Not just that. Did you have a big secret from someone. Say from the person who took you? Have you noticed anything strange about yourself? Something you can’t identify?”
Well, where do I start? My sister thinks I’m a magician, I keep getting these strange sensations, like someone is watching me. That strange visit the other night. The dream. “No, I haven’t noticed a thing.”
“Do you want your memories back?”
“Of course I want my memories back.”
“Why? If they seem to be so bad that you, yourself, won’t let yourself remember, what’s so great about them?”
“I want to know what I was like before. I don’t want to just live my life missing the first 17 years of it.”
“Your mother told me you were going to see a teacher today. How was that?” She changed the subject again.
“Fine. I got some work to do. But what about my memories?”
“What kind of work did you get?” She’s avoiding the question. I hate that. She won’t give me any answers.
“My work from Freshman year. See, I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I had my memories back.” I wanted to probe her, see how far she could avoid the question without completely spilling everything out.
“Ah, so, your going through the courses again until you catch up. How much time until school break out?”
“Look, that doesn’t matter. My memories? Do you remember we talked about them a mere five minutes ago? I want my memories back. I’m sure you’ll know a way of getting them back.” I was angry, of course.
“I’m a psychologist, Danny, not a miracle worker.” She hadn’t taken her gaze off me the entire time. I was beginning to get really fidgety.
“So, when are you going to tell me about the pot?” Now that shocked me. Where did that come from?
“What pot?” I asked innocently.
“You know what I’m talking about. Pot addiction is practically written all over your face to a trained person like me.”
“Oh.”
“When were you planning on telling your mother?”
“I wasn’t.”
“So, how do you expect to get any better?”
“How does telling my mother I smoke pot going to get my memories back?”
“It’s not.”
“So why suggest such a thing?”
“You don’t trust her. I know that. I can gather that from the way you speak of her. Yet, you expect her to trust you.”
“It’s got nothing to do with trust.” I butted in.
“But it does, you don’t trust her enough to tell her your deepest secrets, how do you expect to make any progress with her?”
“I’m not looking to make progress. I’m not sure at what I’m looking for. I just want to find my friends. The friends I don’t remember.” My eyes reverted back down to the floor. I did want to save them. Who knows what kind of treatment they were undergoing. I couldn’t just leave them there. I’d betrayed them. I needed to save them. Maybe that would alleviate the feeling of betrayal and guilt plaguing at my heart now. Plaguing at my conscious.
“Your friends. How much do they mean to you?”
“I’m guessing a lot. I want to find them, and get to know them again.”
“So, you’ve counted out any possibility of regaining your memories?” Yes, she was back on subject.
“I don’t know. I keep trying to remember. It’s like there’s a barrier blocking me from parts of my mind.”
“Keep trying. I’ll check up on how everything’s going when you come back next.”
“I don’t want to come back next time.”
“Well, let me tell you a secret.” She had my interest now, “I may have a way of getting your memories back. Or at least finding something out about your friends. Something that could help you.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Hypnosis.”
“Hyp-whata?”
“Hypnosis. It’s a thing, I’ll put you in a trance. I’ll do all the work, you’ll just be relaxed. You won’t even know what’s going on. I’ll describe it more when you come back next time.”
“When’ll that be?”
“Next week. Same time.”
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” I sighed. Maybe some answers were finally presenting themselves. “Do I need to book it? Or will you write it down?”
“I’ll write it all down. Your mother has my number. If you want anything, just give me a shout.”
“Okay.”
“And, Danny, please try and quit the pot. You don’t know how bad for you it is.”
“Okay.”
“Good. I’ll see you next week then.”
“Okay.”
“Get some new words too.”
“Okay.” I smiled politely as I left the room. To be honest with you, I was glad to be out of the room. She wasn’t a bad woman, she jus knew too much about me.
I needed to talk to Jamie. She seemed to know more about me than anyone else seemed to. That was my next mission. After school, and trying to remember. I needed her to tell me more about me. And no more of this magician shit. I needed to know the truth.
A lot of dialogue and not a lot of action.
See you tomorrow probably.
Night!
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