“So, you think that... what, we’re intentionally trying to sabotage the case?”
“No, no,” I tried to argue, but the other man didn’t give me an opportunity to defend myself.
“Fine then,” he snapped. “If that’s what you think, then go ahead. Tell us about all the horrors you’ve experienced. Show us what being a proper witness is all about.”
Every eye in the room was on me. Even our lawyer didn’t seem to know what to do now that the conversation had taken an unexpectedly hostile turn.
Well, I’d been the one to start the confrontation. All I could do now was “put my money where my mouth was,” so to speak. Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I addressed the room as calmly as I could. It was no different than the numerous times I’d had to relive my past during therapy. I’d done it before so many times, that now the words came easily, like I was reading from a script I already knew by heart.
“The most notable client I ever had was one who came to me every second Tuesday of the month for the last five years I was with the bell ringers. Always the same day, the same time, like clockwork. He was average height, about five eight, and a little overweight, but not obese. Probably about a hundred and eighty pounds. He usually wore a gray suit, but sometimes a brown one, and always wore this spicy cologne that I didn’t like. Looked like he was about fifty years old, hazel eyes with heavy crow’s feet at the corners, and a small scar on his chin. His hair was brown, flecked with gray, and he was balding, but it was uneven. He was more bald on the left than the right, so he shaved the right side down a bit to match. You couldn’t really tell the difference unlessyou got up close. When he arrived, the first thing he’d always ask me to do is?—”
“Hold on,” our lawyer interrupted me. “Let’s back up.” He shuffled Thomas aside and encouraged me to sit back down, taking the seat across from me. “You said this was one of your frequent...clients, right?”
He hesitated over the word client, and I didn’t blame him. I hated the word, too. It made the situation sound like a business transaction rather than the forced prostitution of children, but I’d never found a better word to describe the people that the bell ringers had forced me to serve.
“Yeah. One of them. Obviously, there were a lot more, but he stands out because he was the most punctual.”
Our lawyer, Kitt, hurriedly started scribbling down notes, seemingly writing more words than I’d even said. “Uh huh. And how many other clients do you remember with this much detail.”
“Um...” I hesitated, confused over the obscured question. “All of them?”
Kitt stopped writing and stared at me, his fathomless dark eyes round and bewildered. It was such a bizarre expression on his face that I nearly laughed out loud and bit my bottom lip to hold back my humor.
“Are you saying you remember everyone with that level of detail?”
I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve met them, so their memory is in my brain. Just pull the memory back up, and there it is.”
Having so much of Kitt’s attention made me squirm, so I looked away, only to realize that the whole room was staring at me with equally bewildered looks.
“What? Why are you staring at me like that? They need these details for the case, to help identify the bad guys, right? Why wouldn’t I share them?”
Silence hung over the room for a moment as everyone continued to stare at me, before being broken by Clay’s laughter. It was a humorless sound, the air coming more out of his nose than his mouth, as he slowly shook his head.
“If you think that’s how everyone’s memory works, its no wonder you think we’re holding back.”
I hated the sound of that sad laughter. It was the same reaction I’d heard from a lot of my therapists and nurses when they thought I was out of earshot. I slapped my palm against the table just to cover up Clay’s pitying reaction.
“What are you talking about? Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I’m just doing what you asked me to do.”
A heavy warmth settled over my hand, softly pinning it to the table. I jumped, startled, and looked down to find that Kitt had placed his hand over mine. I hadn’t even realized that I’d started to shake, but immediately, I felt much better with something physically keeping me steady.
“Based on what you’re describing, it sounds like you have an eidetic memory.”
It was easier to focus on his words than the rising panic in my stomach. So, I stared up at him and ignored the urge to scream that was welling up in my throat.
“Eidetic? What’s that?”
His expression was straightforward, with just a hint of softness around the edges, which I appreciated. So often people looked at me with pity in their eyes and horror carved on their faces. Kitt’s business-like manner was a breath of fresh air in comparison.
“You might recognize it better if I called it a photographic memory. Basically, you have perfect recall. Your memories are like a photo, or a camera recording, and you can play them back as clearly as when they happened the first time.”
“Well, yeah.” I tried to shrug again, but with my hand pinned, the movement ended up very awkward. “That’s what memory is. Memory in a camera. Memory in a brain. It’s the same. That’s why it’s called the same thing.”
I expected everyone to agree, but instead, Thomas scoffed at me and threw himself into a chair.
“Are you serious? No one’s memories work that way. We aren’t machines.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Kitt’s hand squeezed mine and caught my attention again.
