Hunted by Darkness

It's Cold Inside

Sarah

Drops of rain slid down the passenger’s window. The rhythm of the wipers and the engine were the only sounds in the car. Sarah pushed her hand against her stomach. It had been knotted in a tight mass of live nerves since morning. It seems all that had happened since she left the hospital two days ago was nerve-wracking. All the time she didn’t dedicate to interrogating her bedroom’s walls about her past, she spent in constant anxiety.

Going to the support group would make her feel better, wouldn’t it? But, on the way there she found she was even more unsettled.

It was a brand new experience, with brand new people. None of them would be in any way related to old Sarah, and would not be expecting anything from her. All logical thought pointed that way, anyway. So why were her hands sweaty?

And the more anxious she was, the least she ate. It was causing her parents to worry, constantly hovering. After her shower, her mother was standing outside the bathroom, a cereal bar in her extended hand. The woman was going around with snacks in her pockets, now.

If only she could run away. Far, very far. A desert island was appealing, even if the chances of survival were slim. Maybe the island was extreme, but the idea was alluring nonetheless.

Turning left, they drove into a driveway hidden from the road by tall hedges. Every Thursday, the support group met at the therapy clinic. Now, she was part of that routine too.

A small path ran along the side of the big, old house, inviting visitors around the gardens. The door chimed as they walked in and a receptionist lead them through to a big room at the back. There were a few people already inside, sitting in sofas and armchairs. A woman with short dark hair and a bright smile came to the door.

‘You must be Sarah,’ she said, offering a hand. ‘Welcome! I’m Julie; please come in. There is tea and coffee and some biscuits over there. And you must be Mrs Morgan,’ she turned to her mother.

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Mrs Morgan, Anne’ she signalled to the receptionist who was still standing by ‘will guide you to the waiting room or you can leave and come back to get Sarah in a couple of hours if that’s better for you.’

‘I thought I would sit in with her,’ her voice was cold and sharp, like a shard of ice.

‘I can imagine. I know how daunting it is to leave your child here, in the current situation, but we find it is better if they are in a safe, private environment. In the presence of family members, they can feel inhibited and avoid talking about subjects key to their recovery, in fear of hurting their loved ones. I’m sure you understand.’

Sarah watched her mother with a mixture of wonder and fear. Her face became blank, and she paused, as if somebody had pushed a button on a remote. There was something unnatural about her stillness and the way her eyes seem to be still and yet looking at nothing. Then life came back into her, and she nodded with a forced smile, before disappearing down the corridor, following the receptionist.

‘Come on in,’ Julie said. ‘Help yourself,’ she pointed to the table.

Big thermos labelled ‘coffee’, and ‘tea’ were lined up against the wall, as well as several packs of biscuits, ‘we’re still waiting for a couple of people, and then we’ll start. You can sit anywhere you like.’

Sarah found her smile comforting and, now that her mother wasn’t here, she felt more at ease. She even managed to eat a couple of shortbread pieces. After pouring herself a cup of tea, she chose an old armchair. It appealed to her with its bright green and yellow daisies, like something out of a child’s room. It was satisfyingly soft, and her body sank into it. The armrests were flat too, which meant she could rest her mug on it without fear of it falling.

To her relief, the rest of the people in the room were close to her age. She had worried she would be in a room with fifty and sixty-year-olds and wasn’t sure they would be able to relate to her or vice versa. There was a girl about her age, with glasses, busy talking to a man, maybe late twenties, with a balding head and very thin. Another two boys were sitting together on a sofa, both immersed in whatever they were watching on their phones. Julie stood by the door, checking her phone as well. Another girl came in and walked straight to the coffee, then took a seat, while Julie closed the door.

‘Right, Rose won’t be joining us today, so it’s only us. Hi everybody,’ she said, sitting down next to a whiteboard.

‘Hi,’ most people responded.

‘As you can see, we have a new member with us today. This is Sarah. Because it’s her first day, Sarah is not obliged to share anything with us if she doesn’t feel comfortable talking yet. However, it’ll be nice for all of you to introduce yourselves and share how you lost your memory, maybe? Why don’t you start?’ she pointed at the balding man.

The man nodded and introduced himself as Mark. He had been in the group for six months and liked dogs. The girl with the glasses was Natalie. She had a very high pitched voice. Everybody introduced themselves. Vivian was the blond girl and Paul and Tim, the two boys on the sofa.

After going around, Sarah gave a nervous wave to everybody and said ‘nice to meet you.’ She was pleasantly surprised when nobody stared. They all turned back to Julie, instead.

‘Anybody wants to start then?’

Tim, one of the two boys, raised a hand. Tim had a different type of amnesia than she had. He did remember his friends and parents and family; he just didn’t have any memories of the things they did together or how he met his friends.

‘So my best friend doesn’t get it,’ he said. ‘He insists on telling me all of these anecdotes and then stares at me, expecting me to react when he knows I don’t remember. Then he gets angry, saying I’m not trying hard enough. Then shows me all these photos, like I’m going to see one and suddenly have an epiphany and remember everything,’ he sighed.

‘How does that make you feel?’ Julie asked.

‘Angry, frustrated.’

‘Angry at him?’

‘Well, yeah! No. Well, yeah, but also at myself, I suppose. It’s been a while now. Shouldn’t I remember something?’

Sarah had a sinking feeling. She wanted to ask him how long it had been, but she didn’t think it was appropriate. All this time, starting over was an obsessive idea. A new life and a new place where nobody demanded anything from her. That would be bliss.

What she hadn’t thought about is what would happen if she never got her memories back. Maybe it was because of that sense that it would never happen. But, was it a sense? Or was it just fear?

She didn’t think she would find herself in Tim’s situation. When her friends were over, she didn’t care if they spoke about their past life. Remembering her past wasn’t that important to her either. Why did she feel this pressure at the back of her throat, then?

As she looked around the room, she realised all of them knew exactly what had happened to them. When and why they lost their memory. Well, maybe not why, but the triggering event was clear to them. Even if they didn’t remember, people had told them, doctors had explained, family had brought in more information. For her, her so-called accident was another big mystery. Her heart pounded at the idea of never finding out. It was a strange realisation.

She wanted to know.

She needed to know.

But how would she ever find out?

‘And that’s it for today,’ Julie ended the session.

She looked at the big clock on the wall and was surprised to see it had already been two hours. She had been in her own little world for at least half of it. It made her uneasy.

The first day had been safe; she didn’t have to say anything, but what would happen next week? The others would want her to participate. They would want to know what happened to her, why it happened, how, why was she alone. Indeed, that was a question she asked herself often. Why was she alone?

She had gone to a music festival and then stayed for tourism, on her own? It was odd. Would that be something Old Sarah would have done? It wasn’t impossible; after all, many people did travel on their own.

Her mother was waiting in the car, her face a mask of nothingness. She couldn’t read her expression, but it was easy to imagine what she felt. It made some sense to her that parents shouldn’t be allowed in group therapy, but for a parent, it might be distressing.

‘So,’ she started with a cold smile ‘did you spill the beans?’ there was a bite in her tone.

Sarah frowned. That was a strange way to put it.

‘No, it was the first day. I didn’t have to say anything. What would I say anyway?’

If she thought that would make her mother happy, she was mistaken. There was tension in her jaw, in her neck, and it didn’t go away. There was no conversation, no more questions. Sarah couldn’t tell if she was worried she would say in group things she had never said to her, or if it was something else entirely.

She shivered with cold, even though it wasn’t raining anymore. Goosebumps ran along her arms, a chill running through her. She couldn’t wait to get inside the house, maybe even under a blanket. Her teeth chattered, making a semi-rhythmic noise in the silence of the car. The world outside seemed impossibly normal, people walking down the street with the same or fewer clothes than her and making no sign of feeling cold. This must be what it felt like to sit in a fridge. Her arms tightly wound around her, her legs crossed, her breath shaping clouds in the air. Her mother, however, was focused on the road and gave no signs of anything being wrong. She turned the heating on, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, and it was working, she could hear the air blasting.

After what felt like hours, the car finally stopped on their driveway. Sarah opened the door before the engine even stopped. A wave of heat washed over her as she stood outside.

She ran into the house, coming to a sudden halt when she bumped into her father. The man grabbed her by the shoulders. As she lifted her face to him, he became pale, then let her go. Sarah ran upstairs, locked herself in her room, and pulled the duvet around her, still shaking. Voices came from downstairs, agitated voices. She opened the door, only a few centimetres, and let herself slide onto the floor, still wrapped in the covers.

‘How did you let it get this far?’ her father said almost in a growl.

‘I couldn’t help it.’

‘You need to control yourself. She was blue!’

‘Be quiet; she’s going to hear you.’

‘I’m not sure that matters much after your behaviour!’

The door closed downstairs, and Sarah did the same, she couldn’t hear them anymore, only a blur of voices, sometimes excited, sometimes quieter.

All these unexpected puzzle pieces seemed spread in front of her.

What had that been all about? The cold in the car was nothing ordinary, sure, but her father seemed to imply her mother was at fault. Nothing occurred to her that a human being would be able to do to lower the temperature so dramatically. The air conditioning wasn’t even on.

She wound the duvet around her, her eyes lost at the other end of the room. There were those other strange feelings, like the day they came to get her from the hospital, the feeling they weren’t who they said they were, and those blank moments where there was nothing there.

The problem with this puzzle was that she didn’t have the box and didn’t know what the picture was meant to be.

A knock on the door startled her.

‘Are you ok?’ her father’s voice came through.

She hadn’t heard the steps coming up the stairs or any noise behind the door. His face was soft and smiling when she came out of her room, still with the duvet on her shoulders. She had to repress the urge to ask him about what she had overheard, and she stared into his eyes for a few seconds considering it.

‘Yes,’ she didn’t dare ‘I must be coming down with something.’

‘I’ll make you a cup of tea. Something hot will do you good.’

‘Sure, thanks,’ she smiled.

‘Will you come to the kitchen?’

Sarah hesitated, her eyes looking for answers in the corners of the corridor.

‘Your mother is away running an errand.’

‘Ok, then.’ She said with a sigh.

**********

Gabriel

She didn’t see him when she came out of the big house. He had been standing outside the whole time. A part of him desperately wanted for her to see him, but another part thought it was better like this.

Once he had found out she had been released from the hospital, he decided to keep an eye on her house. All he had to do was follow them on his bike. He parked it out of sight and waited, first outside the perimeter. Then he saw the car leave, but only Sarah’s mother was in it. The fact that she stayed behind intrigued him, so he decided to go inside. He was nervous at first, in case he bumped into her, although he didn’t know why that would matter. She wouldn’t recognise him, would she?

The leaflets and posters in the reception told him what the place was, and that gave him an idea. Maybe that way he wouldn’t have to be sneaking around all the time. This stalking thing wasn’t what he wanted to do, and it was unhealthy, to say the least. And dangerous. He wouldn’t be able to watch her like this for long before somebody noticed.

            Outside the hospital had been a whole different issue—public street. The hospital itself was a good excuse for anybody to be there repeatedly. And there were shops and businesses on the same street.

            But her house was a residential area. They would notice somebody lurking around. Sarah used to say the neighbourhood was over paranoid about strangers, notifying everybody on the community page about every random white van driving around. It’s not like Longbridge is a dangerous place, but still. Either way, it made everything more complicated.

            But now he had the leaflets, and he couldn’t wait until next Thursday when he would at least be able to hear her voice again. He would be able to introduce himself, be under the same roof, even make jokes. He could ask her out for coffee. He could start over.

            He could find out if she remembered what happened because he might not have lost his memory like she had, but he couldn’t remember the accident either.