Tears prick inside of my eyes, blurring my vision. This isn’t what I had seen when I envisioned this room, this isso much more.
There’s a wall of mirrors and a hard wood floor and a sound system I could have only dreamed of but it’s not that that has tears rolling down my cheeks.
It’s like someone took that painting from the living room and made it better and larger. The entire wall ahead of me is a periwinkle sunset, effortlessly portrayed and painted without a single detail missing.
Did I find the artist of that painting? Did I commission them? Because this is an almost replica, just bigger with more to it. I don’t know art, I never studied it the way some people do but even I can recognize when something is done by the same hand.
It’s like handwriting, there’s a distinct pattern, a certain way someone curves their letters and dots their i’s.
I hadn’t even realized I’d moved toward it until my fingers are tracing the outline of a cloud, the paint a little rough under the tips of my fingers.
So much love and care has gone into the delicate strokes it hurts my heart that I have no memory of it. I don’t know how long I stand and stare at the wall, long enough that darkness has started to fall beyond the window and behind me, the door opens.
“Sav?” Willow hovers at the door, her green eyes lifting to the art. “Oh wow.”
“You haven’t seen this?” I swallow thickly.
She shakes her head, “No.”
“I was hoping you had,” I turn back to it, “How can I miss something I have no memory of?” I ask the question out loud though I know no one can give me the answer. But there’s this huge hole in my soul that will never be filled. Sure, new memories can bemade, and new chapters can be written but what about the time that has brought me to here? What about the days or weeks it took to create this art? To create this house?
All of that plus more. There’s more, I know there is and unless I get those memories back, I’ll never know what it is.
It’s two a.m. and I cannot sleep. There’s a headache knocking at my temples and an ache in my bones from the still healing injuries but even before the pain started, I couldn’t get comfortable in the bed. It’s big and cold, and so very quiet.
I’d grown frustrated and threw back the covers and found myself wandering the house. I’m back in the studio now though, sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor with the lights off. Little light flows in through the wall of windows, casting shadows throughout the room but even in the dark, with the shadows and the voids, the art shines. You can still tell how beautiful it is, still see the talent even without the sun filling the room.
Music is playing softly from the sound system, just loud enough to take away the chill of silence and the loneliness that crept in the moment everyone left. I wanted this. I wanted my freedom back but now that I have it, I’m not sure I like it.
I’ll get used to it; I think to myself as I roll my neck side to side hoping to release the tension that has built up in my shoulders. Pulling out my cell I stare at thecracked screen. It happened in the accident apparently, but I haven’t gotten it fixed yet.
I’ve done this already, but I do it again and pull up my text messages, seeing the list of names one after the other. Bast. Willow. Sloane.
Killian…
That’s where I am stumped. There are no messages within the thread, it’s simply blank but he’s listed close to the top of the page as if I’d spoken to him recently. I can’t wrap my head around it, can’t figure out why he would be there if there weren’t any messages there before.
I’ve gone through the settings, tried to pull up archived and deleted messages but nothing shows. I could absolutely be overthinking it and it’s nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing.
I really hope the doctor is right and I’ll regain the memories, if only to satisfy the itch under my skin that’s begging me to figure this out.
Chapter Forty-two
“What do you mean he died!?” I gasp, snapping my head around to stare at Sloane next to me on the couch. She just showed me the music video I recorded with Adrien Matthews, one of the most influential musicians on the scene at the moment and not only that, the song and video hit number one!? Now she’s telling me he’s dead!
She cringes, “He died.”
“Okay, I get that, buthow!?”
“Don’t know,” She closes the laptop, “They think it was an accidental overdose, but no actual details have been released.”
“When did this happen?” I slump back on the couch.
“The same day of your accident,” She sighs, “It’s a lot, I know.”
“But it shouldn’t be,” I huff out, “I don’t understand how memories just vanish.”
“You had a traumatic injury,” She soothes, “You almost died, Savannah.”
