How can it be that someone who was once your life could be reduced to a barley discarded memory within the blink of an eye? The same eye that would then be blinded by your supposed loved ones, hindered into seeing only the peripheral vision and not the secrets held behind an artificial cloud. One thing that I knew for sure, amidst all of my self doubt, was that in no way shape or form could I be angry or resentful toward myself. Not being able to recall a single trace of Bennett was understandable considering my circumstances, but what my parents had done was unforgivable. Even if I was unable to fully mourn over his death, the least that he himself deserved was recognition.
Last night, following Luke suggesting that he should give me some space, I had found myself restless: my mind couldn't have possibly comprehended the truth about Bennett, nor the fact that I hadn't had an inkling of his presence. My twilight had been filled with the endless cycle of tossing and turning, relapsing over every memory obtainable in a desperate pursuit to find anything relating to Bennett. I ended my search empty handed.
The only snags of thread within my reach were the nightmares, of which never lead to anything, under my assumption that they had already been separated from the string of wool containing any answers. My mind longed for another night terror in the hope of seeing his face, hearing his voice or feeling his touch, though they never came. Instead they stood upon the sideline, lurking in the obscurity as they watched humorously while an ever-so unwanted peaceful sleep plunged me under.
I had tried on numerous occasions to vision Bennett, drawing from the few pieces of information that Luke had given me to build a mental picture. It had been impossible. Then again, I had found myself wishing to not view him, in fear that my idealistic image of him would be smeared. I didn't want that, he didn't deserve that, instead he deserved to be remembered, but I couldn't even do that. Imagining the pain of knowing that someone you had once cared so deeply about would no longer have any recollection of you whatsoever, was indescribable. The most painful part was that I couldn't help but think about how I would feel if it were Luke who was in my position, angering me profusely due to the fact that in a time in which I should have been mourning heavily over Bennett all I could think about was Luke.
Part of me wanted to be angry at Luke, for the times that he had blatantly lied to my face, but I just couldn't bring myself to be. It wasn't as if he had been deceiving me out of choice because he was never given one. The situation that my parents had thrown him into was nauseating; he should have been grieving for the loss of one of his best friends, not covering up their entire existence for the 'safety' of someone he barely knew at all –me.
The truth of the matter was that the only person to blame was my father, whose tendency to treat family problems with work solutions only added to his not so excellent track record. So, without so much as a second thought, I paced calmly toward the one room that I knew would result in the release of at least some of the enmity pent up inside of me.
My eyes bore into the wooden capillaries that braided along a brass frame, skimming repeatedly toward the door handle merely millimetres from my finger tips. I kept my feet grounded, waiting until I had gathered a comprehendible line of argument before I flung the door forcefully open. Had it been any other circumstance, I would have had the decency to knock first, but at that moment in time, I didn't posses a polite bone within my body. My father, however, didn't appear to notice my lack of courtesy, in fact he barely raised an eyebrow at my entrance.
"Adelaide," he greeted, sparing less than a second to note my presence due to the pile of parchment in front of him that occupied his mind. "How are you doing?"
I stepped fully inside the office, not bothering to close the door behind me. "A lot better than Bennett right now I guess," I snapped, sarcasm lacing my tone in a patronising manner. My father's attention averted my way immediately at the mention of Bennett. "You know considering he's presumably six feet under, buried god knows where."
