The lost memories

I’m sitting on the folding chair, cradling my cup of tea and watching the sunset over the mountains. I parked the RV next to an observation deck for the night. It should be breathtaking but it fills me with a sense of dread and foreboding.

I left my life behind six months ago, when I thought I was going crazy. It will help to get away, take some time for myself, I told people. How wrong was I? The first three months exploring the country were amazing and I felt free for the first time in forever.

After the honeymoon period though, nights became worse than ever, the presence around me increasingly oppressive, even aggressive. That’s why I drink caffeine in the evening, I don’t want to sleep, but most of all I don’t want to dream. I ran out of sleeping pills, so now I do my best not to sleep.

I have been in and out of shrinks, mental institutions, therapy of all kind. Ever since the acci-dent. I cannot remember what happened, the doctors said it was my brain suppressing a trauma that I was not able to process at that age. My parents were not helpful. They behaved carefully around me, as if I was a live grenade ready to blow up at any moment. They never talked about the acci-dent, they just kept taking me from doctor to doctor when I started telling them about the shadows in the night.

My tea is cold, and it’s now pitch black. My eyes feel heavy, I have not slept in days. A gust of wind, something grazes my ankle, I jump and swear loudly, disturbing the quietness. It’s a dead leaf. I curse some more, fold my chair and get back into the van. It’s stifling inside, but I still close and lock the door. I feel safer this way, nothing can come in.

I splash water on my face in the tiny bathroom, and stare at myself:

“Pull yourself together! It’s all in your stupid head” I slap myself.

Taking a deep breath, I collapse on the bed. So be it, I’ll dream, but I need to rest…

It always starts with a light breeze ruffling the bed sheets despite all doors and windows being closed. I’m uncomfortably hot and I stare anxiously in the dark truck. While I was growing up that’s all it was, winds, things touching me, voices calling my name. Since I’ve been on the road, it went up a level: glasses shattering, invisible hands grabbing my ankles, the truck seemingly mov-ing, voices yelling at me to remember.

There is a different feel in the air tonight. I sit up straight when I hear a familiar voice whispering my name in my ear, immediately feeling someone strangling me. I try fighting but their strength is preternatural and I slowly sink into darkness as I hear a calming, melodious voice:

“There, come with me this time, there are things you need to see.”

I’m at my grandparents’ farm, as every summer. It’s hot and dry. I hear the grown-ups talking every evening at dinner of drought, crops and cattle. I don’t understand, I just want to go outside and play with my gorgeous purple ball. It was a birthday present from my sister and I love it. I’m running around in the yard, throwing the ball in the air, and kicking my little legs as fast as I can to catch it again.

I remember the ball, I threw it in the wind chime on the porch. I loved the tinkling, and there was no wind. I got told off, they said I had to move away from the house to play with the ball. I remember the wave of panic and utter devastation when I threw it too high and it got stuck in the gutter. I was wailing, bumping my fists on the floor when she came out.

And she’s right here, next to me, fifteen years old still. I feel an intense sadness wash over me, but inhabited by my five year old self, I grab her hand and point at the roof:

“My… ball…is…stuck” I stutter in between sobs.

She wears the white gauzy dress that I remember from that day, the one I chose for her to wear forever. Her dark hair falls in warm waves around her smiling, loving face. She looks like an angel.

“Calm down, I will get it. But you have to promise me you will hold the ladder steady and not let go until I tell you”

I nod.

Suddenly it’s like I am torn away from the little me. I’m floating above the scene. She is in front of me, furious now. She slaps me hard, and spit:

“Watch, watch until the end and don’t turn away. Watch what you did.”

I’m terrified, I want to go but I’m like rooted to the spot.

Down on the ground, she grabs the rickety old ladder, props it up against the wall and starts climbing to retrieve the ball, as little me dutifully holds on.

As she gets to the top, the calico cat bumps his head against my legs. I loved this cat, but he always ran away from me. Not today. I let go of the ladder, and follow the cat. I hear a scream, and a thud, and a sickening crunching sound.

My face held firmly in place by the vengeful spirit of my lost sister, I see it all, everything I forgot. Her hands move to my neck again.

“Don’t you ever forget, I want you to carry it with you forever, otherwise, I’ll come back.”

The morning light falls on my face, I stir slowly in the bed. It was just a dream, I tell myself. My neck is sore, my cheek tingles and burns. I get up to get water, I’m parched. I step on broken glass, and the engine roars to life.