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Her chair is empty.
30
MELODY
Idon’t know where I’m going.
I should. The cityshouldbe as familiar to me as breathing, since I lived here for so long. Apparently. Yet, as I walk, I just feel sad.
Where did my life go?
I just let a guy ten years younger than me, my former student, do… unspeakable things. Unsavory things. And while my body seems to crave his touch and his demeaning words, my mind doesn’t. I hate that he has such a hold on me. That he can look at me and my skin heats.
That he can tell me to clean his dick and push me to the floor of that dirty bathroom and I open my mouth for him. That I crawl to him.
Jesus.
Was I religious? Thomas certainly couldn’t answer that. Natalie, neither. They were the only family the investigator with the hospital could locate, and they don’t know me.
I take a deep breath. The city is foreign, yes, but it also has this weird appeal. So I walk and walk, my pace unhurried, until I reach the campus that Thomas once took me to.
Now, I look at it through a new lens. One that says I didn’t just go to school here, but I taught a class, as well.
Where did I live?
Who were my friends?
What did young Melody want to be when she grew up?
Tears prick my eyes, and I focus on the sky. That’s one thing different about New York City—here, the stars are hidden under a layer of cloud cover. The clouds aren’t even pretty or dark. They bounce back the yellow-tinted lights from the city, creating a brownish color. Maybe out by the water would be prettier.
I stop in front of the school’s library.
After Jacob stole me out of the library apartment, I didn’t go back. There wasn’t really time, but I had liked it there. It was peaceful, safe. Until he proved otherwise.
So many questions. They do my head in.
I sit on the steps and bury my face in my hands, letting tears spill out finally. My shoulders heave with the force that comes over me.Sobs. It’s mourning for my lost memories, grief for knowing some things will never come back.
I just wantsomething.
Anything.
And then… well, I guess maybe my past doesn’t want to stay buried. Because my phone rings, and I fish it out expecting to see Jacob’s number. But instead, it’s a prison. An automated voice tells me it’s a collect call from a New York prison, and it tells me who’s calling.
“Jack Cameron.”
Holy shit.
I accept the call.
“Mel?” His voice is gruff. Foreign.
“I… yeah.” I grip the phone tighter. There’s only one person I know in prison that shares my last name. “Dad?”
“Been a long time.”
Do I tell him I lost my memories? Does he already know?
