Prologue

 

My name is Alma, and this is my diary; unchanged, unaltered, unedited, just as I wrote it over fifty years ago. Yes, it has been that long, I calculated: 1992-2045. And of course it has, I just had my 70^th birthday. Back then I was a 16-year-old who lost everything and everyone.

This is my truth in its full glory. Or, perhaps not glory, but naked truth that I never thought I’d share with anyone. I was made to write as part of my therapy. I have forgotten many things, but I remember very clearly my therapist telling me to write every day. I thought she was stupid. I never wrote every day, though sometimes I wrote multiple entries in a day. I wrote when I felt I had something to say. Forcing myself to say anything proved to be too hard. Maybe I should have forced myself to write, but it’s easy to say that now when I’m over the worst of it.

Deciding to publish it has not been an easy decision to make, despite the fact that I’ve spent years speaking about my life publically. It’s interesting, when I was a child, so before any of the stuff that you’ll read about, we read Anne Frank. I wondered if she would want her diary to be public knowledge. Now that I understand her through my own experience, I think she would.

If someone asked me how I faced the fact that my whole family was murdered, I would have told them that I cried. For years, I just cried. That’s all I remember. The sobbing, hugging my knees to my chest for comfort, preferring nights to days… I loved rain. My favourite were those dark clouds that weighed heavily in the sky as if they want to crush the earth but something won’t let them. And I was just waiting for that something to break and for the clouds to crush the whole world. That’s what I remember. That and anger. Bursts of anger that made me want to jump out of my own skin. Screaming wasn’t enough. I was so angry. But then, I found my diary. To my surprise, I hardly ever mention crying, though anger is there.   

Time didn’t matter. Initially, it was as if time didn’t exist. That’s hard to imagine even for me, and I’ve lived through it. But even later, when I became aware of the existence of time, I never bothered to put a date on an entry. This must be the only diary in the world that doesn’t have a date. Not one single date. It just didn’t occur to me to write one. I can figure out some, like the entry on my eighteenth birthday, of course I know the date of that. But I’m not going to. I lost everything except time, yet time became irrelevant. There’s something so poetic in that.

However, since I have a whole new life now, I guess it would be alright to put today’s date: 25^th October 2045.

I’ve achieved all my goals, and more. Yet I firmly believe that survival is my greatest accomplishment. Life isn’t just about what we’ve gained, it is far more important to see what we’ve overcome. We are programmed to see diplomas, travels, friends, family, even fame and money. We turn a blind eye to the ever present battle with ourselves. And that battle, that’s the battle of life. Losing that battle makes all other wins pointless. What is the value of fame and fortune if you are despised by everyone, even by yourself?

My desires are still the same. If I could have just one conversation with Ayla, my twin sister, I’d gladly swap everything for that, right here, right now, no questions. Just give me one conversation with her. I still talk to the mirror, even though I know how much it hurts when the mirror doesn’t reply. But I’ve learned to live with that, because that’s the way it must be.

You know the prayer: God, please grant me the SERENITY to accept the things I cannot change, the COURAGE to change what I can, and the WISDOM to know the difference. Well, that’s how I live my life. And it has served me well so far.

So, dear reader, as you go through these pages of my life, I hope you will be generous with your understanding.

 

1.

 

I don’t know how to do this. Write a diary? What is that even about?

I open this notebook, look at the blank page, and the lines asking for words, but I don’t know what to write. So I close it and leave it on the bed.

But I have to write. My stupid therapists thinks this is what I have to do. She said “write anything”.

Fine.

I think my therapist is stupid.

There, how’s that for writing anything?

 

2.

 

Dr Lily insists I should write anything, even if I call her stupid, she’s fine with that. I’ve tried to tell her that I can’t write, I’ve really tried over and over again, but she insists I write.

Anything…

I’m in a white room. Everything’s white. The walls, the door, the huge curtain, the floor, the bed, the bedding, the bedside table… That’s it. There’s nothing else here. Shouldn’t there be something else here?

I’m dressed in white.

This is not me.

Of course it’s not me.

Me?

 

 

I can’t live without them.

I can’t be alone.

The nightmares… Those are not nightmares, are they?

What happened to me?

Oh, I’m being stupid again. Sometimes I get these bad feelings. That must be why I’m here. I don’t remember how I came to the hospital, but I know I have a problem. When I try to remember I can’t, and then random memories will pop up out of nowhere.

Nothing happened to me. What could happen to me? I’m fine. It’s all fine. Or it will be. I just need to…

I remember when I was little, my uncle’s friend’s daughter had a problem. I don’t remember the details, maybe I never knew the details, but I know it was really scary for everyone for a while. They kept talking about her fits, and the need to be alone… They’d whisper ‘she’s always silent and depressed’. She’s fine now. Turned out she lacked some kind of mineral. Once they fixed her diet, she was normal again. I’m sure I’m going through something like that.

I need to focus on staying positive. Nothing happened to me. I’m fine. Maybe then they’ll let my family visit. Why won’t they let them visit?  

 

 

After I wrote that I went out to look for my therapist. It was the first time I left the white room. The smell of coffee at the end of the long hall made me scream. They had to give me some kind of injection. I’ve been sleeping since.

My head feels weird.

I can still smell coffee. I know it’s not real. This white room has no smell. Even I don’t smell. Did I ever smell?

Little Danny likes to sniff people. It’s a game to him. Uncle Frank gets so angry at him for calling out bad smelling feet.

Danny likes my mum’s hair.

“Ummm, roses,” he’d close his eyes after taking a deep whiff near mum’s head.

Roses? What do they smell like? I can’t remember. I can remember Danny creeping up behind mum as she sits on the sofa. He’d smell her hair and smile. I smelled her hair too. I liked it. But I can’t remember that aroma.

Aunt Jen would shake her head apologetically.

“He’ll grow out of it,” Grandpa says.

He’ll grow out of it?

 

5.

 

Some sentences pop up in my mind and I can’t breathe. Sentences like: He’ll grow out of it; Don’t sit in Grandpa’s chair; What are you going to be when you grow up; I’ll tell mum – Ayla’s voice, always Ayla’s voice.

Coffee?! I can’t stop smelling it. It’s like buzzing in the ears except I have it in my nose. It’s constant. I get one-second flashes of all kinds of rooms, all kinds of houses; our house, aunt Jen’s house, aunt Milly’s house, even our neighbour Vera…

Houses, and people, and houses pop up in my mind like those foam balloons we used to blow as kids. Except these don’t just burst, they reappear in another place, and then I get flashes of various objects from those houses; a clock here, a picture there, a sofa, a lamp, a chair, wallpaper, even a light switch from my aunt Zena’s house. And laughter, talking, lots of voices, and music, and coffee, always coffee. All these images pop up randomly and it makes me so tired. I have to sleep.   

 

 

Did Ayla have a boyfriend? I had a flashback of her talking to some guy. We were in a café, it felt familiar… But I don’t like him. I don’t like the way she is when he’s around. Is she still with that guy? Maybe they’re married, or engaged?

What do I have to do to get these doctors to let me see my sister, or my mum, dad, someone? I know if I could talk to them I’d be better.

Something’s wrong with me, but keeping them away isn’t helping.

Unless…

No, no… It’s not possible.

 

 

I had to be sedated again.

I peeped behind the huge white curtain. It felt like someone kicked me in the chest. I started choking. A nurse rushed in, she screamed for the doctor.

Next thing I know I was shivering in the bed. The nurse was holding my hand. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she moved her thumb slightly stroking my thumb.

“Could you open the curtain?” my voice barely made it out of my mouth.

She looked away “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Doctor Lily has gone home.”

I waited for her eyes to return to me.

We’re about the same age.

“There’s nothing behind the curtain, is there?” I asked.

“Just park. Trees mostly. If you look hard enough you can see the main hospital on the other side of the green.”

The main hospital?

Of course they won’t let me see my family when the sight of trees freaked me out. I have to get over this.

“Could you take a look?” I felt my head rising off the pillow.

She smiled and nodded, leaving my hand and moving silently toward the curtain.

Her face disappeared for a moment into the material hanging off the ceiling all the way to the floor.

Then her face appeared “It’s dark. There’s some lights in the distance, and barley visible shadows of branches and leaves.”

I had to see. The moment I moved to get out of the bed, the nurse rushed to me and grabbed my arms. She looked terrified.

I smiled to reassure her. She held me as if I needed help walking.

Face-to-face with the curtain she whispered “What did you see the last time?”

I paused to think. “Nothing,” I said. “I saw trees, and grass. Few benches along the paths.”

“Oh…” she frowned.

I shook my head “I don’t know why I freaked out, but I know I have to do this. If you want to leave…”

“No, I’m staying right here.” Her grip on my hand felt a little tighter. “Okay, it is dark, and there are shadows.” Her voice shaky but determined. “We are on the ground floor, but there’s a net across the whole window so nothing can get in.”

“Net?” My whole body vibrated.

“It’s just to protect from birds and insects. It’s not…”

My legs were moving on their own, away from the curtain.

“Do you want to take the net off?” blue eyes wide open, “I can rip it off. Would you like that?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll rip it off.” She moved effortlessly into the white material. The window squeaked as she opened it. Fresh air came in and pushed out the anxiety that filled the room. I could see her fist banging and then a loud thump.

“There you go. No more net. The net is on the floor, outside.” She waited for me to respond.

I don’t remember seeing the net. How could something I didn’t even see frighten me so much? But I must have seen it. Why can’t I remember seeing it?

“Maybe we should wait until the morning?” She pulled me gently back to the bed.

With my head resting on the pillow, and the fresh air that filled the room, I felt better than I had since I got here.

“Leave the window open,” I said to the blue eyes.

“Okay, but a bird might fly in. Sometimes they do. Don’t freak out. I’ll be right here. I’ll take care of it. Okay?”

I nodded and closed my eyes. “What’s your name?” I whispered.

Her lack of response made me open my eyes again.

“Call me Sid,” she smiled.

I might have some serious mental issues, but I’m not stupid. Call me Sid? What the fuck does that mean?

Her name tag was peeping out of her chest pocket. I sat up and pulled it out in one swift motion.

Ayla…

My hand shook as I placed the tag back into her pocket.

 

8. 

 

Ayla will be here any day now. She’ll sort me out. I know she’ll come with like ten books on what might be wrong with me, and she’ll be like ‘You need to do this, and drink that, and go here, and…’ I’m sure she’s doing the research as I write this. She’s out there, going through everybody’s bookshelves, looking for a solution. She’s probably already spoken to ten different professionals.

And my mum, and grandpa, oy! I’m sure grandpa is in the fields collecting all kinds of plants to make my teas.

I can see Dad giving orders to everyone in the family and neighbourhood about how to speak to me, how to look at me, how not to look at me… I’m sure even cousin Belma isn’t excused. She’s probably given birth by now. I wonder what name they chose for the baby. She wanted something unique that no one in our family has. It is not easy to find such a name. We’re a big family.

 

 

Doctor Lily didn’t come to see me today. Nurses have been in and out all day, far more than usual, but no one has spoken to me. Considering what happened last night with Nurse Sid, I though the doc would be here first thing in the morning.

I hope she’s alright.

Arrgh! There I go again with bad thoughts. Of course she’s alright. She probably has other patients. Maybe I’m getting better, and that’s why she hasn’t been to see me?

I have to stop having these feelings that everyone is dead. And that everyone will die. And that we are all in danger.

Happy thoughts! Sunsets! Calm seas… Beautiful beaches, trees, flowers, butterflies…

 

10.

 

I haven’t slept at all last night. For the first time since I got here, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve slept days and nights, but last night, not a wink. I sat by the window, thinking. I love the window. At first I was a little afraid of it, but now I adore it. This is why I think I’m getting better.

I don’t sleep constantly anymore.

I am realising I have a problem.

My head doesn’t feel so empty anymore – this sentence doesn’t make sense even to me, but it’s the best I’ve got. I don’t know how to write a diary. I’ve never done this is my life. Why would I? I have a twin sister who remembers EVERYTHING! Ayla is sometimes annoying with how well she remembers. I don’t have monologues. I have dialogues. That’s what I’m good at. Writing a diary is like talking to yourself. In fact, it’s worse than that. Being unable to write a diary is not a sign of a problem.

And I know, I can write Ayla’s name, but I can’t say it – this is an indication of something. She probably did something that hurt me… I don’t know.

And normal things freak me out. I get that’s a problem too. BUT! I love the window now. I was freaked out by the net on the window. Now, I love the view outside.

And the aroma of coffee! I know I fainted the first time I smelled it, but I love it now. I think I should try coffee??? Should I? I can still smell coffee. And it gives me positive feelings. I know I found the smell annoying at first, only because it was constant. Now, I like it. I even like that it’s constant.

So, yes, I still have a problem…

Truth be told, I don’t think I’m having bad feelings, I think I have amnesia. But surely writing in a diary is not going to help me remember. Talking to someone who was there will help me remember. Whatever happened, I can face it.

I need to see Doctor Lily.

 

11.

 

A nurse came and said doctor Lily called me to her office. That’s was weird. She always came to see me. I didn’t even know where to go.

Climbing up the stairs made my heart race. It was almost funny. My legs were shaking yet I felt excited. It’s just a boring, ordinary staircase, one of those walled from all sides. It was well lit, white walls, nothing on them.

Doctor Lily’s office is on the second floor, room 222. Left and left again. I found it.

“Why am I here?” I said as soon as I sat down on the chair.

She walked from behind her desk and sat on the other chair next to me. “Why do you think?”

“Because I’m having very negative thoughts about the world?”

She nodded “What kind of thoughts?”

“That everyone is dead, that everyone will die, that I should be dead…” Her face didn’t change, the look in her eyes as stern as any I have ever seen.

Clearly she expected me to say more. I took a deep breath “I don’t want to die. I’m not suicidal or anything, I just… I think it would really help if you’d let me see my family. At least my mum, or dad, or my sister.”

Doctor Lily scratched her chin “Could I stop them from seeing you?”

It felt like a bomb exploded in my head. I had a million thoughts. Ayla would have sneaked in. I’m on the ground floor. She could have come to my window. We’ve climbed walls and fences since we were five years old.

There is no way anyone could have stopped my dad from coming to see me. I would have heard him shouting at the reception, he would have torn his way to me.

There are more people in my family than in this whole hospital.

I sat there, unable to speak. Doctor Lily kept her eyes on me.

“What happened to me?” I whispered.

“You have to remember,” she frowned, her eyes sparkling. “I can only give you time and support.”

I left her office on wobbly knees. I couldn’t even make it down the stairs. I had to sit and rest. A nurse walking by helped me back to my room.

I slept again.

 

 

I’m not crazy, I’m grieving.

I don’t have negative thoughts, I’m objecting to the truth, the reality.

My amnesia is a shield.

Deep down I know the truth, I just… I don’t know it! When I try to remember I feel dizzy. But the feeling, the hard press on my chest, that’s the voice of truth. My heart knows it, but my head is blocked away from it. It’s like there’s a wall between my heart and my head.

My heart and my head are not communicating. The spilt between them is the problem. I have to bring my heart and my head together again. They need to work together.

How? Why? What kind of truth could do this to me?

 

13.

 

I’m remembering the past with more clarity than I ever thought possible, even though it’s just snippets. But it feels like I’m still there.

New Year’s Eve. Everyone is at our house. There’s glitter and lights everywhere. It smells like cinnamon, apples, cloves and coffee. Ayla and I were about seven. Mum let us put on some lipstick. We were so proud of ourselves. We felt all grown up. We made a pact to stay up until midnight. I can’t remember if we did. I feel like we didn’t.

I think, I’m not sure, but I think we always celebrated New Year’s together, as a whole family. Each year in a different house…

 

 

Sunset on a beach… It’s a lake; green, calm, glistening in auburn light.

Ayla and I are examining the stones we collected.

Dad and uncle Fatih are arguing over a barbeque.

“You’re both stupid,” Uncle Ned says.

Uncle Ned…

“Hard to believe Grandpa and Uncle Ned are brothers,” Ayla’s voice. 

We’re older. Mum is here. Our kitchen. Plums… We’re making jam.

“Every family has an Uncle Ned,” Mum smiles while pouring boiling water into empty jars. Steam is escaping the glass containers that sparkle. Golden leaves and sun are in the window.

I’m steering the bubbling purple mass on the stove. Huge wooden spoon in my hand. “I’m not sure they do,” I glance back at mum with a smile.

“If someone thinks their family doesn’t have an uncle Ned, it’s probably because they’re uncle Ned.”

All three of us are laughing.

“To make matters worse,” mum carries on, “the other extreme means the same thing; if you think everyone in your family is uncle Ned, that also means you are uncle Ned.”

What’s wrong with uncle Ned?

 

 

“I am not carrying my skis, they’re carrying me,” I say to Ayla.

We’re on a slope, heading towards woods. It’s dark, but the snow is glistening in the moonlight so brightly, everything is visible.

She’s got her skis on her shoulder, digging the tips of her ski boots into the snow. I’m going up the slop with my skis on my feet, V-shape print in the snow behind me.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she shakes her head. “I knew the lift was off for the day, yet I still went down the slope with you. I knew we wouldn’t be able to talk him into turning the lift back on, yet…”

“Well,” I interrupt raising a hand carefully so the stick doesn’t hit me or her, “we don’t know that, he already left by the time we got to the bottom. AND! May I remind you that it took us so long to get down because you kept arguing…”

“Of course I kept arguing, I knew it was a bad idea!” she interrupts, her breathing heavy. “Why was I so stupid?”

“Because you love me, and love makes us stupid,” I smile.

She shakes her head and says “It’ll take us forever to get to the house.”

At some point we stopped to make a snowman. We were laughing. The sky was full of stars.

We’ve made hundreds of snowmen in our life but that one was different. Deep inside of me, I know…

There’s no one and nothing else around. It’s just the two of us making a message for our snowman to hold – A and A were here…

Huge, fluffy snowflakes are dancing through the air.

“People are like snowflakes,” she says. “Each one different, precious, fragile, and beautiful.”

“And made of water…”

“Don’t ruin my point!” She’s angry again. I smile again.

Something bad happened later, I can’t remember what… We laughed and laughed. Building this huge snowman to hold our sign.

 

 

My cousin Amina! How did I not figure it out sooner? Sid always looked kind of familiar, but what the fuck do I know. I just liked how she made me feel comfortable, nice. I guess I thought it’s because she’s here all the time. And always looking at me with those hopeful eyes. Of all the nurses that come and go, Sid is special. Now I know why. She’s just like my cousin Amina.

Not in the way they look, though they both have blond hair and blue eyes, but in their aura. They’re identical. I wish I had my camera… Camera! I loved taking photos.

I wonder if photos are all I’ll have from now?

I wonder if Sid has a dog. Amina had this fluffy little white thing she called Cloud. She took it with her everywhere.

 

 

I remembered that Amina couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. So, I figured maybe Sid is the same way.

As soon as she walked into the room I started talking. I was telling her about my memories coming back, she responded in almost the same way doctor Lily did, how that’s a great sign.

I must admit, the fog in my head is easing. There’s more clarity. I don’t feel so lost, though I am still lost. But that’s fine. Golden rule: As long as there’s improvement, be happy – BTW, I really wish I knew who told me this. I know someone said it to me, but I just can’t remember.

I frightened poor Sid half to death when I asked her to tell me everything she knows about me.

“What makes you think I know anything?” her eyes wide open, she sat on the bed next to me.

“You were here when I came, or did someone bring me in? I don’t think I’ve ever been here before, so how could I find my own way?”

Her eyes scattered about the room “I don’t…” she shakes her head. “It’s not a good idea. Doctor Lily is risking her career on you.” Her hands cover her mouth and she jumps up. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I smile “Why?” I pat the bed to invite her to sit back down. She does.

“I’m not allowed to tell you things, you have to remember. Doctor Lily is convinced that that’s the only way you won’t be… I mean… The only way…”

“Okay, part of my therapy is to let me remember.”

“If I thought I could help you, I swear I would tell you all I know even if they kicked me out. But Doctor Lily is really good, and she’s taken personal interest in you. She said she’s never met someone who in their hysterics could calculate 14 times 238, yet couldn’t recall who wrote Romeo and Juliet. I’m only telling you this because I think information like that might help. She thinks you have a really special mind, and you need to trust that too.” She got up again.

I didn’t have the heart to ask anything more. Clearly this was not ease for her.

“It’s alright… I get it. I need to remember on my own.”

She smiled.

“Can you at least tell me what are the constant fireworks about. And who is making popcorn in this place all the time?”

I swear she took a step back, look of shock and horror on her soft face.

“That’s not about me…” I tried to explain. Surely she can tell me about the stuff that’s going on around us? Obviously not, since she stood frozen. “I’m sorry, I thought…” and then the sound of popcorn again. I raised my finger, “Hear it?”

She nods, the look of horror still on her face. “It’s not popcorn,” she whispers. “I have to go.” She made her way to the door, slowly, as if pondering her decision. “I would do anything to help you. I need you to know that.” She said without looking at me, opened the door only enough to squeeze her slender body through, and then closed it.

The sound of popcorn went on and I kept wondering what it was… Why couldn’t Sid tell me?

 

 

Someone broke in. Or my mind is starting to play tricks on me.

No, it was…

Our house, or Grandpa’s house… Grandpa’s house I think. It was like the stream at the foot of his garden flooded the whole house.

That’s what happened. I just can’t separate distant memories from the fresh ones, the ones that matter. The ones that could tell me what happened to me.

I can see the stream and Ayla and I walking in it. I can see summer days, and then a flush of danger, but it’s not visible. It’s like lightening, and then goes back to some random memory of snow, or harvest, or collecting lady bugs. One moment I see butterflies, the next moment there are dark clouds and I’m alone, and then back to some normal memory that’s a little more than a flash.

Who would dare to break into my grandfather’s house?

 

 

I have another sentence that must mean something because it shakes my core.

Why are you rushing?

I was talking to Doctor Lily and I was trying to get her to tell me about the day I came to the hospital. She refused a few times, told me I need to remember on my own, and then she said “Why are you rushing?”

She didn’t notice that the sentence shook me, which is good. I’m getting better.

Back in my room I remembered Grandpa.

“Alma, everyone is like a river. Some are narrow, some wide, some shallow, some deep, some curvy, some straight, some flow to another river, some flow to a sea, some break the mountains, some dive under a hill, but you… You are my waterfall.”

That’s me. That’s who I am. I am a waterfall. I’ve never been good at waiting, at being patient. I’m not afraid to fall.

If feels so settling to know this.

I am a waterfall.

I am a waterfall.

I am a waterfall.

 

 

I went outside today… It’s all good.

Well… Hold on… There’s a war going on. So, obviously, that’s not good. Except, in my head, that’s not too bad either.

Oh God! That doesn’t make any sense. These contradictions are starting to piss me off.

I was getting really tired of the popcorn sound. I don’t remember if I thought about it, but at one point I walked out of my room to investigate. The long corridor outside my door was barely lit, completely silent, a little eerie, except for the popcorn sound that gave it life.

To the right of my room is the reception and entrance to the building, to my left just doors. I heard the sound coming from my left. I walked that way. Three doors from my door I noticed a little passage. The sound was coming from that direction. I could see the fire exit at the end of the passage.

Leaning on the long bar across the door was automatic, I put no thought into it. The door was open and I walked out.

It was pitch black. The popcorn sound was considerably louder. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I could see steps, just a few of them between some shrubbery. I went up the steps to an open green area. It was the park I could see through my window. And then popcorn sound. I looked up. A line of fireflies flew through the air with incredible speed.

I’ve never seen it in real life, but I’ve seen it on TV – BTW, I completely forgot about TV. I loved that box, but Ayla didn’t so I never got to watch it for as long as I wanted.

It’s not popcorn, it’s gunfire. Close enough to be heard, far enough to pose no danger.

I started thinking about the fireworks I had heard, and just as I realised those must have been bombs, two nurses showed up in the park.

“Are we at war?” I said to them.

One of them took my arm by the elbow, while the other waved at her. I should know their names… REMEMBER! Ask the nurses’ names!!!!!

The second nurse looked at me and silently nodded.

I nodded back.

Strange sense of relief washed over me as I walked back to my room, nurses following me.

We’re at war.

Who could we be at war with? Our whole lives are about peace and prosperity.

What is a war? I know it. It’s bad. Why do I feel relieved to know it?!

 

21.

 

We’re at war!

Wars = murder!

Enemy kills those they fear the most first, then they kill all!

***

“Was my family targeted?” I said to Doctor Lily, laying on her sofa, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, bracing myself for the worst response because if I faint she’ll never tell me the truth.

“Why do you ask that?”

I sat up. “Because we’re at war. My family is one of the most powerful families in this country.”

She just stared at me like she does.

“You either know, or that’s not what happened,” I snapped.

She frowned as if confused.

“Newspapers would have written about it!” I almost screamed at her. “So did you read about my family or not?”

Her eyes closed tightly as the sound of her swallowing vibrated through the space.

“NO!” I shook my head.

“We don’t know anything…” She came over and sat next to me taking my hand. “Newspapers write all kinds of stuff.”

“What did they write?” no matter how hard I tried to sound normal, my voice came out shaky and weak.  

“That doesn’t matter. Only you know. And you need to remember.”

“Why? WHY!”

“Because you survived,” her eyes sparkled, as she tried to smile but failed. “It’s not just about you. Think about what you represent.”

What do I represent?

What do I need to remember?

It’s the break-in! Grandpa’s house… Oh come on, remember already, you stupid head!

 

 

I keep getting more and more snipes of my life.

Every single one of them features Ayla. Sometimes, even I’m confused if I’m seeing her or myself. Like in a dream. We can see ourselves in a dream. That’s what these memories are starting to feel like – a dream.

One minute we’re little, chasing all sort of bugs. Another minute we’re sitting in a café, chatting over a cup and a cake.

We’ve travelled, we’ve had guests. We’ve danced, and played. We’ve sailed and ridden horses. We’ve cooked and cleaned.

Music, a lot of music.

BUT! What happened to it all?!

 

 

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! 

Arrrrrgh!

No! That cannot be a memory!

NO!

Oh God! NO!

 

 

My head and my heart lost connection with one another in the basement of my grandfather’s house. I was in his space – a spacious area in the corner of the basement, walled off, soundproofed so he can get away from it all. We were never allowed down there.

I saw myself sitting on top of the wardrobe, near the little window that looks out to the garden, but you can only see the grass.

There were feet. Some in trainers, some in boots. I know I saw more than just feet... One of the boots had a green army uniform on. He was the main guy. I know I saw him, but I can’t bring it back.

The house above me burned.

It was hot.

I don’t remember smoke.

There were no sounds. Literally not one sound. I don’t remember hearing a thing.

The feet in the window moved further away from the house.

It all went black. 

I don’t know how I got there. I don’t know how I left the basement. I just know we were all at Grandpa’s house. My whole family was there. Everyone I love was there. They were all in that house. My grandfather’s house. The house that the feet set on fire.

 

 

I want them dead! I want them ALL dead! I want to be the one to end their lives. I WANT TO KILL THEM ALL!!!! It’s the only thought that soothes me.  

The boots! Death is too good for him. He must suffer. He must feel the pain I feel. I know he gave the orders. I know he’s responsible the most.

They are all responsible. They all must die. And I must be the one to kill them!

 

 

Why was I the only one in the basement?

They came in… I hear thumping on the ceiling, they’re moving into the house. Gun shot.

“NO!!!!” multiple voices from the house. Someone’s been shot.

And then no sounds. I hear nothing else. Was my hearing the first one to abandon me?

I want to get out, I want to go back up, but I can’t find the door.

I’m shaking. I’m on the floor.

And then somehow I’m up on the wardrobe, hiding, just peeping out of the small window near the ceiling, looking at the men around the house, hundreds of them. I could see their feet. I sneaked a few glances up, but I can’t see what I saw, I see myself doing it. Maybe Ayla was with me? But, if she was, where is she now?

Fire! I know the house is on fire.

Blank… Nothing more.

Next thing I know I’m talking to Doctor Lily. I know it wasn’t our first conversation.

How can I fill in the blanks?

Oh shit… I’m so stupid. Grandpa’s room is soundproof, of course I didn’t hear anything. Yet I did hear footsteps at first, so I must have been in the basement when they came in, and then I went into Grandpa’s room. And once there, all sound was cut off.

Okay, that’s one possibility. That makes sense.

Did I want to get out through the window?

Oh, I don’t know…

 

 

If you cause death, you should expect death to come after you. I will be their death. I will make them suffer. That’s why I’ve survived. My family is not destined to be an easy target of some devil reincarnated. My family will not go down just like that.

I will become death!