Fading Memories

I awoke in a room that felt strangely familiar yet entirely foreign. The day held a peculiar tension, a premonition of something concealed. As I scanned the room, I noticed the curtains and blinds were tightly shut, usually open to welcome the sun. Why would I block out its rays so brutally? I had to know. I had to open.

My legs, stiff with age and disuse, groaned as I stretched and shuffled towards the window. The morning light, filtered through a crack in the curtains, cast an eerie, diffused glow over the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, my gaze drifting to the garden outside. Once, I had tended it with care, each plant a testament to my diligence. Now, it lay abandoned, a chaotic sprawl of wild greenery, mirroring the disarray of my thoughts.

A surge of determination filled me as I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps from downstairs. Though my body was frail, an unexpected resolve surged through me — I would confront the intruder. I positioned myself on the other side of the bed, ready for the encounter.

The door creaked open, and a young figure stood briefly before quickly advancing towards me. I instinctively stepped back, my hand reaching for the nearest object, a half-filled mug of tea. “David, you know who I am; try to remember. Myself, Paul, and your daughter Aliza care for you,” the intruder declared.

“I have no idea! Please, just leave!” my voice trembling with fear and desperation. The intruder edged forward. I hurled the mug at him, hitting his shoulder and splashing his face. His face flared with aggression as he jumped on me. I remember falling back but nothing else.

I awoke alone in bed again. I rubbed the back of my throbbing occiput where a bump had emerged. Grabbing my walking stick, I slowly crept out of the room, ensuring the door did not creak. I stood at the top of the stairs, overlooking the hallway and part of the living area. Muffled voices reached my ears — at least two people.

I clutched the railing, peering over the edge of the balcony. Below, two figures huddled together in the dimly lit kitchen, their voices an indistinct murmur that sent a shiver down my spine. The faces of my supposed caregivers flickered in my mind, now marred by suspicion and doubt.

Why had I trusted them? I strained to catch fragments of their conversation, but the words eluded me, blending into the oppressive silence that filled the house. I couldn’t stay hidden forever. The truth had to be unveiled.

Gathering my resolve, I descended the staircase, each step a painful reminder of my frailty. The murmur of voices grew louder, clearer. My heart pounded as I reached the bottom step, pausing outside the kitchen door.

“The mug he threw at me was full!” one voice said, dripping with a sharp tone that made my skin crawl. “Why was he so bothered I had not drunk my tea?” I thought.

“He appears more aggressive towards us each day,” the other replied, a note of dismay in his tone.

I pushed the door open, my sudden entrance causing them to whirl around in surprise.

“David!” the woman exclaimed, her voice laced with a sickening sweetness.

“Enough,” I yelled knowing I have been pushed to my limits, my voice firm despite the tremor threatening to betray me. “I want answers. Now.”

The man stepped forward, his expression hardening. “David, you need to rest. You’re not well.”

“I’ve had enough of your lies,” I spat, gripping my walking stick tightly. “Who are you? What have you done to me?”

The woman sighed, a sound that carried the weight of a long-concealed truth. “We were trying to protect you,” she began, but I cut her off.

“Protect me from what? From the truth?” I demanded, my anger giving me strength. “What have you taken from me?”

The man exchanged a glance with the woman, a silent conversation passing between them. “David,” he said slowly, “you entrusted us to care for you using your finances.”

“My finances,” I muttered, recalling the death of my parents but not any inheritance. Then remembering I have never had money, never… This doesn’t make sense. “So you plan to protect me by stealing any remaining money from me?” I could barely contain my fury. “How long have you kept me locked away in this… this prison?”

“We never meant to hurt you,” the woman said, stepping forward. “We thought it was for the best” she said.

“For the best?” I echoed, incredulous. “You took everything from me. My freedom, my life… my sanity.”

The man sighed, a resigned look in his eyes. “It’s too late to change what happened. But you need to rest, David. You need to let this go.”

“Let it go?” I shook my head, backing towards the door. “No. I won’t be a prisoner any longer.”

With that, I turned and fled, their voices calling after me, but I didn’t stop. I stumbled into the overgrown garden, the morning sun blinding me with its intensity. I had to get away, to find someone who could help me reclaim what was mine.

As I pushed through the tangled foliage, I realized my fight was far from over. The world beyond my garden was vast and unknown, but I had to face it. I had to uncover the truth, no matter how painful.

For there lay a spark of hope in the absurdity of my existence, in the labyrinth of deception that surrounded me. A chance to reclaim my life and my freedom. I would not let it slip away.

As I got beyond my garden, a neighbour stopped me. I yelled to them, “Help me.” I was hit with a feeling of déjà vu. The neighbour looked sympathetically but then through me and gave my captors a thumbs up and an uncomfortable smile. They responded with, “I’m very sorry for this, again.”

“Again!” What are they talking about? How long have I been stuck in this loop I thought.

Everything dawned at once. If I wanted answers, only my captors could give them. I asked them, “How long have I lived this way?” The girl replied, “You have lived here all your life; it was your parents’ home.” This all added up; I could remember the distant memories of my childhood, from mowing the lawn for my parents to playing in the streets past dark.

“Tell me who you are,” I demanded.

“You are my father,” the girl replied with an air of resignation.

“Prove it,” I told the girl, who nodded slightly and said, “Come inside.” She led me towards the kitchen and began rustling through papers in her purse. She handed me a sheet and said, “Do you recognize the writing?”

“It is mine, no doubt,” I proclaimed after a few seconds of deliberation. The letter began with, “I’m sorry for the trouble I have caused. You must understand it was not my intention to harm you. This sickness of mind I am inflicted with is causing me to forget many things. If there is ever a day I forget you Aliza, please know that I love you more than anyone. My pension is in your name. I have given you the details so you can withdraw it while I am alive. The pension is only valid while I am alive. I want to live the remainder of my life in your care. The pension is ample and will give a good life for you”

I stared into Aliza’s eyes, which warmed the longer I looked. I believed her. The letter I wrote was for her. I began to feel like the intruder. I sheepishly asked, “Who was the man in my room?”

“He is my husband.” Aliza went on to explain how not taking my medication had affected me previously, causing the neighbours to want to put me in a home as they did not feel safe. This was why they had hidden the medication in my tea. Everything made sense. I felt exhausted. Mentally drained. Aliza gave me my tea and said, “Please drink this time.” I smiled and walked to bed. I placed the tea on my bedside table and exhaled a breath of disbelief. But as I took my shirt off, something shocked me to my core. I had… or someone had carved a message into my chest: “Do not believe Aliza.’’

Part 2 to follow