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“You think?”
“I’m sure. Maybe in a few years, you can go to college and get a degree in English, languages, or something.”
He sighs.
“What’s upsetting you?”
“I don’t remember anything,” he growls.
“Sorry, Travis.”
He flinches.
“Why do you always flinch when I say your name?”
He shrugs. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel right.”
The neurologist mentioned something about dissociative amnesia. He not only forgot because of the brain injury, but maybe this is also the result of a trauma.
“Things will come back to you.”
He groans. “What happens if they don’t?”
“I don’t have all the answers.”
“What’s going to happen when you leave?”
I squeeze his shoulder. “You seem concerned.”
“There’s something about this place and my father. It feels wrong. I have a hard time trusting anyone.”
“Do you trust me?”
He nods. “Sure, but you’re the paid help.”
“If that was the case, I would’ve left months ago. I’ll be around until I know you’ll be fine.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
ChapterTwenty
Ladybug,
If you’re following this in order, it’s been a year since I left you. This wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m making peace with it as I prepare this box and get my last wishes ready.
Why am I doing it?
Let’s rephrase that. Why did I do it?
Remember when Myka almost died? The first thing she said when we were rescuing her was, ‘I almost left without saying goodbye to Jayden.’
That weighed on me heavily. What if this happened to me and we never said goodbye? And I know what you’re thinking, Jayden left her. He was an asshole, but that’s not the point of this letter or my explanation.
If I ever died, I wanted you to have a piece of us to remember what we were, but most of all, a hand to help you grieve your loss. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve liked to have something that reminded me of you every day so the pain of not having you would be less suffocating.
Are these letters and videos helping?
