The Island

22. Connections

Jordyn

I wake up an eternity later, unable to move. My body has turned to lead, and I am anchored to the floor under me. My right arm throbs. I can't force myself to look at it, though, mainly because I can't turn my neck to one side or the other.

I've been thrown under a stampede of horses, trampled, and left to die.

So, instead of trying to move, I stare at the ceiling overhead and piece together the memories my hysteria and fear evoked. Three revelations have become clear, but a thousand more questions climbed out of the shadows and have nestled in my brain.

First, Sam and I were friends. That's why he felt so familiar and why I gravitated to him. The Island knew that, and the voice tried to pit me against him. We've known each other since we were little. I spent days at his house, loved his parents, and held him when he lost them. He was the boy on the porch swing of my previous memories, the wind chime laughter, and the smell of chocolate.

More importantly, I didn't kill his parents. President Murano did, according to my father, who I can now connect a face and name to. I saw him before, in the earlier snapshot of him pushing me on a swing. The identity of my father isn't important, though. I just care about the fact that I'm innocent of Sam's accusations.

I didn't murder his parents.

I killed someone, but it wasn't them.

There's one more thing that sticks out about the two memoryscapes, though.

The news reporter said my father was the leader of a rebel group. That means that I was part of the rebels.

Rebels against what? The president? But what in the world did we do to cause her to come after Sam's parents? They were obviously afraid of her to begin with.

There are parts that are not as clear as others.

The ache behind my ears makes it feels like I wasn't supposed to see that. The Island didn't give me those memories. They snuck into my head like ants, fueled by the attack by Neil. The pain allowed them to nestle in uninvited and uncontrolled.

One unanswered question hangs over my head like the bright copper sun, searing through my chest.

So I didn't kill Sam's parents, but I killed someone! Why did I commit arson in the first place? The Island isn't going to release that bit of information to me just yet--accidentally or on purpose. It's the missing piece to the puzzle I've been trying to solve since I first got here.

I turn my head slowly and look at the single window in the room. Bright light filters through the dust bunnies that float around the room. How long have I been laying here? When did Sam and Neil find me? It was morning, I think.

Judging by the angle of the beams of light coming through the spotless window, it's well past midday.

Wait--how do I know that?

What else did the attack bring back to me other than memories?

I shift my weight and push myself up with my left arm. The long scab from my fight with Neil days ago has been reopened, but other than the constant throbbing, that pain is weak compared to my right arm. When I'm sitting up, I bring the right one around to the front and suck in a hiss of air.

Not only is the majority of skin from my elbow down a deep shade of purple, blue, and green, the large section between my wrist and elbow is no longer straight. Instead, it bends away from my body just slightly where the bruises become more severe. I hold back the vomit I feel rising in my throat and turn away from the scene.