Looking For A Lost Memory

18 hours

LEON

"There's no way or chance I'm doing that again! Remember what happened Last time?!" Marcus stresses painfully reminding me. After hours of constant debating with him, I've still got nowhere with this, but he has a good point. Those same years as our notorious fake trip, we sneaked out of the school to celebrate the amazing sports season we had, we were found out pretty fast by our teachers over one stupid mistake. The whole school found out after we were reported to the police for poor behaviour in public and for breaking school regulations. I can guarantee you that Marcus got away with it pretty easy, his Dad being able to pay the fine in a blink of an eye while the rest of us on the other hand, had to suffer the consequences (30 hours of community service).

Just one mistake. That's all it takes for everything to fall out of place. Although the risks are plain obvious, this still doesn't stop me.

"Come on! Cheryl didn't complain much when I asked. She seemed happy to help."

"You involved her in this too?! You dragged her in your mess-" He screams hysterically.

"Listen. I just need you to cover for me, you owe me anyway." I say desperately, knowing I'm running out of time.

"For what?!"

"Just this once. That's all I'm asking."

He exhales finally giving in before he asks: "Where are you going anyway? At least you owe me that explanation."

"It's just, this important thing we have to do, it's... It's to do with our parents okay? It's important to us, if my aunt finds out she'll never let us go. You know how she is. She can never find out about this. " I say reluctantly. Instantly understanding he's fine with it, he knows more than anyone it's a bad part of my life. I've got him and Cheryl on the same page, I just hope they can stick through it. Something tells me there's so much more to this than those first extracts, so I don't know how long this will take to figure out, a few weeks or months maybe.

***

18 hours 1,145 miles away

Sunlight slips through the cracks in the curtains fully waking me. So much for trying to get in few hours of sleep before the hours come when I need to be awake for. Not that I was going to sleep anyway, I can't stop thinking. I try to distract myself by staring out of the window, I get absorbed by it immediately. Houses and fields flash past in a rushing blur. At the fast pace we're going we should get to New York in no time. I still have no idea what we're doing here or what we're going to do when we get there.. When we got on this bus I didn't exactly know what was going through my mind. School is out the way for a while, since we're on holiday, but only temporarily. Yet, as careless as the journey seems, Kaidens' reasons make sense to me as well. And I know it's not because I want to believe what he's saying, it's the truth. I can't leave him on his own, not now, not ever.

He sleeps soundly next to me, slow, steady, breathing emerges from him. I watch him enviously as he's able to sleep unlike me, even though he's much more excited for this. Especially, since he was the one who woke me some time around 5 am, the sun wasn't even up yet, I was still attached to the bed refusing to say goodbye. With the amount the energy he had, anyone walking past us would think he had just downed an entire packet of skittles in one go.

The low hum of the engine followed by sudden jolts and roars drown out the sound of my thoughts. The coast of Florida is unimaginably beautiful, gradually houses and neighbourhoods start to disappear which signal we are heading further and further out. Fields stretch out far, our only company being the cars around us. It surprised me in the first place that Kaidens' choice of transport for running away was by coach. But then again I don't blame him, it was the quickest way he could find in such short notice. Also, train prices these days are uncalled for. But if he wasn't asleep right now he'd be extremely paranoid, watching every car that passes us, generally edge.

Ever since the car accident that occurred with our parents, he's always been afraid. Aunt Cassidy didn't let us see the wreckage photos until we were old enough to handle what we saw. Hearing those words, I thought she was crazy and the worst person alive when I was younger. It was only later I fully understood why. After that I learned to never use my poor judgement to get past the truth. Seeing the wreckage just confirmed everything for me. My inner feelings, the answers I wanted to deny but there it was, staring at me in the face.

Looking at the photo, the same obvious questions circulated. How could anyone possibly survive that?

It was the blundering thoughts that came crashing down on me, I'd like to believe they are still out there somewhere, but in my life I've been so accustomed to being let down so much, that I don't even hope for the positive anymore.

There's no way they are alive, although I'd like to believe, the facts and the truth in all of this don't add up. My mind won't let it. The details on their case is pretty sketchy from what I know. At first it was natural to think my Aunt was keeping things from both me and Kaiden, in thinking that somehow information of their death would make the situation worse for us than it already is. But in truth, I think she's as clueless as we are. In my mind, I find it hard to imagine. How can you not know the facts about your brothers death? Instead of facing the truth, she's burying it, deep. It angers me every time I think about it.

I let put a sigh of frustration. To be honest, I wish I could forget it all. My feet knock against the bags lying on the floor. I kick a little harder forgetting they belong to us. I mutter an apology to the passenger In front of us. Although it's reasonably quiet for an early bus to New York, it was expected to be a packed ride. To distract myself some more, I continue reading the memoirs.

***

1st February 1969

I don't understand why, but I should have a feeling that I've taken something out of this experience. It's been a while since I've written in this book, so long that I didn't remember what it was for or what it was at first glance. I almost tossed it away into a fire. Over the 3 years, the climate has been the hardest to adapt to. The first real break I got from the climate was when we leave for Brazil.

My memory blanks on random days. People tell me that's due to the fact my sleeping schedule has been all over the place for these past months. Maybe that's a lie or they're trying to hide the truth from me. Brazil next August. Which means I see Maria for the first time in a year.

***

30th May 1969

Not that many people know the state of my health. I guess everyone presumes that you're normal, that everything's fine, that you're human just like them. You would never imagine someone being ill at my age, especially with a heart problem. Neither would I. Something I wasn't born with, but I was attacked. I won't say much, I'm not ready, not yet, but soon. Not that I want them to know. I do a good job of keeping it unknown by most that meet me for the first time. But I know the day is coming when they'll see the truth. I dread to see the look of shock written on their faces, sheepishly they'll talk to me but I know they'll never see me the same way. That's when they begin to withdraw from me.

I try my best to be prepared, yet I don't think anyone going through something similar really is. No matter how much they put a brave face on, or tell you how okay they are , they aren't. I should know, I've been there. I'm still here. When I mention 'something similar' I hope that someone, anyone out there feels the same as me. That can relate to the exact way I feel. To know what it is. There has to be.

Sitting in random cold dazes, being lost in my thoughts is something normal for me. You'd think that would be crazy, especially in a hospital. What's so interesting about a hospital? At times it feels like home, that bland, blank canvas, bleak smells and the constant sound of wheels on the polished green floors, has been a part of my life now.

It's been like this ever since I left home.

***

31st May, 1969 - Everyone tells you what a good and easy game hide and seek is. You hide and you find the person hiding. Imagine it in real life, what if you can't. What if it's so hard you end up shouting and calling their name. What if your so frustrated that give up altogether on everything?

I can't take it anymore. My feet drag on, they are heavy. Maybe I have a few more miles to go, all I have to do is keep walking.

I finally did it.

I ran away.

You could call me stupid crazy, irresponsible - all the words possible. I don't regret anything. Maybe lack of organisation, but nothing else. My eyes are closed and surrounded by the tingling sand that burns into the back of my eyes. The sun literally feels like it's beating whips and strokes onto my back, I sweat terribly, and everything itches. I'm grateful that I've avoided the sandstorms. I've never experienced one, but from what I've heard I know they are severe in these months. I'm already regretting not taking enough water, I should know better, staying hydrated is top priority for us.

One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, take and manage your time is what I keep telling myself. I know if they realise I'm missing, they'd be able to see me from a 5-mile radius. The land is flat so between the bumps I take cover to give myself time to rest. But cautious of sun stroke and other unimaginable horrors. There's no way I'm dying out here. My throat is dry, and I'm constantly tempted to have the last of my water since I've never experienced weather like this. But I have to save it and be smart with the amounts in drinking.

When I finally get to the west bank, I know this is the moment... The moment I can run away from everything. I take in the surroundings one more time. I plan never to come back here. All I've been seeing in my dreams is sand, flat, arid, sand. Not anymore. Ecstatic, I run right to the barriers and lean over to inhale the scent of the water deeply. I look up at the blue sky reflecting off the navy sea. Seeing water made my heart leap with joy. I felt like diving into the rushing water and stay forever between the tides. I watch the coastline of Jerusalem slowly dissolve, then fully disappear. The first place that came into mind for me was Austria. It's the last place I know my Uncle would be in.

After taking a link to the Greece island of Crete, getting to the main peninsula of Greece, I decided to stick as close to the coastline as possible before I'm landlocked. Austria is the only place on my mind. Then taking the familiar route back to Vienna.

***

Klosterneuburg

I think I'm done with hoping for some kind of relief that will never come.

I can't breathe, I can't see straight, I can't think.

Klosterneuburg is the closest thing to my second home. Most good memories of holidays and my life lay here. It feels great coming back, yet mind still has this looming shadow over me. My aim was not to run back to my Uncle but I needed those documents. To prove everything. I don't waste a moment as storm through the corridors of his home. My Uncle looked stunned to see me, stumbling over his words, almost knowing I've only realised the truth.

"It wouldn't take me long to figure out." I start.

I know he stole the money. Everything and my inheritance that was left over from my Father after he was taken. It's seems like the last excuse I have left to hold on to that has no meaning, but in the past my Uncle has tried things like this just to prove to my Father that he's in control out of jealousy or spite.

"What-- how did you get here?" He says detecting the anger in my voice.

"Look at this place. How did you afford it? To live here, in Klosterneuburg?" I say getting straight to the point signalling to the entire room. As if he immediately knows what I'm talking about he answers.

"This, this doesn't include your inheritance." He scoffs as if he'd rather be doing better things than dealing with a 17 year old, hormonal teenage boy. His eyes suddenly harden in realisation of what I've done.

"You mean, you, you ran away from Arabia, to demand, money?" He says seething with anger.

"Answers." I correct. He stares at me in disbelief for a few seconds before waking up.

"Hirosha, get back, I don't know how, but you're going back the way you came."

"Not happening." I say.

"What's wrong, did the contract kill you? Have you finally learnt your lesson?" He jokes.

I hold back from saying anything more that I'll regret in the next hours, see my Uncle has this way of making my skin itch in less than 2 seconds. How does he do it? I would pay all the money I have to find out, gladly. My mind felt cold all over again, for a second I don't actually know what I'm doing here. I can't leave empty handed, I've been going out of my mind for too long. I needed answers. Or was it to answers to questions that never existed?

[LEON - My mind lingers on that last question, maybe this entire thing about my parents is a lie, or I'm searching for things that aren't there.]

"Don't do this. Don't send me back." I say.

He looks at me reluctant, maybe knowing he couldn't get rid of me. My Uncle never used to be like this, there was something off about him from the start. I don't think he never accepted his role as my guardian. Sometimes he can be the most amazing person and then the next he disappears. He didn't believe in what was included, or the past stories of the Meridian, or Chaser. For these reasons was the fact he moved back to Austria, to isolate himself from the rest of us and focus on his studies and work. He was also ashamed of his brother, my father.

He sits down, studying my face, trying to decipher what I'm hiding.

"You never used to be like this. What happened? You loved everything, you loved life, now you're bitter." I say trying to change the subject.

"I still do." He argues

"You're lying." I say. He stays still for a while then taking a drink before he answers:

"You are young, it's complicated. You'll find out soon enough."

My Uncle is the only one who knows I suffer from random moments of lows. I won't call it the other word because i'm not sure 'what' it is.

I made him promise he would never mention it to my father or my mother. He always seemed to know without me needed to say anything. I don't exactly know when it started, all I know is that I felt it.

"I can't give it to you, not yet." He says

"That's not for you to decide." I say.

"You're not ready, look at you, you're a mess."

He's right. Anyone in the right mind would never run across countries to demand answers. Just answers. I'm here, back in Austria, telling him to do the impossible.

"This is my Father, isn't it? Controlling you behind the bars."

"You need to forgive him. Hirosha, listen, if you want to end everything, I won't do it for you. Go back to training, and gain control back. Keep focused. I think you're old enough to know the dangers."

With that, I step back onto the smooth ground, rain drenching me from head to toe. This place seems so beautiful that it doesn't deserve the rain. The moon looks strange amongst the blackened sky. It still manages to give light through the