I don't know when these memories started to flood back into my mind, I just know that it feels like a raging typhoon has engulfed my life and everything I thought I knew about myself is a lie. I should probably start from what I remember as the truths in my life before going into the lies, though.
I know I'm not from RhyDin. Or at least I don't think I am. The earliest memory I have of my old life is of running away from home, and crossing through the Plains states with my boyfriend Andrew. It seems a little bizarre to me that I cannot remember anything before my teenage years so maybe this is all a lie as well. Here is what I remember:
We were going to California; the freedom of sandy beaches and white capped waves beckoned us. I had frequently fantasized about the warm rays of sunshine toasting me to a nice golden brown while I lay upon a blanket sipping some fruity drink. I thought surely life would be better and more worth living in exciting California. Had I known what the future held, I might have rethought our plan to run away together.
We had been walking for days. Those naive fantasies about a leisurely life upon the Pacific coast were rather lackluster now when faced with poverty, hunger, and sore muscles. Andrew and I argued all of the time. When we weren't arguing we kept a hostile silence and the air between us was thick with tension. I guess that must have been why we took the ride from the stranger that stopped for us one night; desperation will make people go against their better judgement.
We hopped into the back of his truck, just thankful for the reprieve. The last pleasant memory I have of that life was Andrew smiling down at me as we huddled together in the back of that rickety old pickup. He had his arms around me and my head was on his chest. He leaned down to kiss my forehead and told me that everything was going to be alright and I believed him. How could I doubt someone that smiled at me in a way so reminiscent of an angel? I absorbed his calm, peaceful aura and fell asleep with his reassurance wrapped around me like a cocoon of safety.
I was awakened abruptly by an ear piercing squeal of tires and the horrific crunch of the steel frame of the truck being smashed, and we were thrown from the back of the truck onto the hard, unforgiving asphalt. I can remember turning my head and the searing pain caused me to vomit. My eyes were awash with tears and a much thicker substance had trickled down into my right eye. I could still see Andrew out of my left, though he was a bit blurry. I wasn't certain if I was imagining it or if he really was army crawling towards me, but his face was mangled and I could see the grotesque protrusion of bone from one cheek. It was the desperation in his eyes that haunts me more now than the memory of the gore of his ruined face.
The world was spinning and my stomach emptied once more. I felt him grasp my hand tightly and heard his voice, seeming so far away, telling me to stay with him, begging me not to leave him. I saw him lean over me but my vision was fading quickly and within moments he faded from my sight. He kissed me then and I felt the warm saltwater of tears drop onto my cheek as he told me he loved me. I felt my hand slip from his and then I was consumed by darkness.
The horror of that night still wakes me up with a jerk and leaves me sobbing into my pillow. I can still feel that kiss and hear him pleading and my heart breaks all over again.
I wish that was a lie.
I know I'm not from RhyDin. Or at least I don't think I am. The earliest memory I have of my old life is of running away from home, and crossing through the Plains states with my boyfriend Andrew. It seems a little bizarre to me that I cannot remember anything before my teenage years so maybe this is all a lie as well. Here is what I remember:
We were going to California; the freedom of sandy beaches and white capped waves beckoned us. I had frequently fantasized about the warm rays of sunshine toasting me to a nice golden brown while I lay upon a blanket sipping some fruity drink. I thought surely life would be better and more worth living in exciting California. Had I known what the future held, I might have rethought our plan to run away together.
We had been walking for days. Those naive fantasies about a leisurely life upon the Pacific coast were rather lackluster now when faced with poverty, hunger, and sore muscles. Andrew and I argued all of the time. When we weren't arguing we kept a hostile silence and the air between us was thick with tension. I guess that must have been why we took the ride from the stranger that stopped for us one night; desperation will make people go against their better judgement.
We hopped into the back of his truck, just thankful for the reprieve. The last pleasant memory I have of that life was Andrew smiling down at me as we huddled together in the back of that rickety old pickup. He had his arms around me and my head was on his chest. He leaned down to kiss my forehead and told me that everything was going to be alright and I believed him. How could I doubt someone that smiled at me in a way so reminiscent of an angel? I absorbed his calm, peaceful aura and fell asleep with his reassurance wrapped around me like a cocoon of safety.
I was awakened abruptly by an ear piercing squeal of tires and the horrific crunch of the steel frame of the truck being smashed, and we were thrown from the back of the truck onto the hard, unforgiving asphalt. I can remember turning my head and the searing pain caused me to vomit. My eyes were awash with tears and a much thicker substance had trickled down into my right eye. I could still see Andrew out of my left, though he was a bit blurry. I wasn't certain if I was imagining it or if he really was army crawling towards me, but his face was mangled and I could see the grotesque protrusion of bone from one cheek. It was the desperation in his eyes that haunts me more now than the memory of the gore of his ruined face.
The world was spinning and my stomach emptied once more. I felt him grasp my hand tightly and heard his voice, seeming so far away, telling me to stay with him, begging me not to leave him. I saw him lean over me but my vision was fading quickly and within moments he faded from my sight. He kissed me then and I felt the warm saltwater of tears drop onto my cheek as he told me he loved me. I felt my hand slip from his and then I was consumed by darkness.
The horror of that night still wakes me up with a jerk and leaves me sobbing into my pillow. I can still feel that kiss and hear him pleading and my heart breaks all over again.
I wish that was a lie.