Alexander King
Being around Oaklee and not being able to hug or kiss her or even hold her hand was slowly killing me. I spent nearly every day with her, wanting her to get to know me as much as she could. I silently hoped that if she spent more time with me then her memory from the last year would resurface.
Every day I either spent the whole day with her, going about our normal routine, or popped in half way through the day. I slowly introduced her to Zeus, not wanting him to overwhelm her with his excitement of seeing her. She doesn't remember him.
I longed that I would turn up one day and she would remember me. She would say my name in her melodious voice, as a sigh like its the first time she's seeing me in such a long time. I would see her brown eyes light up with love, a smile would bloom on her face and my heart would explode from the warmth, happiness and love that descends upon me.
Of course, I knew that was a fantasy. When she remembers me, it won't be like that at all. She'll cry and flinch away from me, just like she did when I shouted at her that day, when I closed in on her, when I glared at her with so much fury that I was physically shaking and when I chucked the engagement ring at her.
That day was the biggest mistake I have ever made. I don't know what possessed me to find her father and ask him for his blessing. I knew their relationship was troubled but I thought she'd love me even more for it. I thought she'd thank me for reconciling their relationship and she'd say yes to the most important question of our lives.
I was wrong.
I should have known as soon as I saw the brown tiny house that was practically falling apart in the disgusting and eerie neighbourhood. I should have known when I noticed the brown, dead and lifeless grass overgrown in the front garden and the weeds sprouting through the cobbled and broken driveway.
But when I saw his face, when he stumbled out of the door, slurring and grinning like the Cheshire cat on ketamine, I was fourteen again, in that car crash where my mum died. I saw her dead body over the dashboard, a dark red substance covering her head and pooling on to her lap and when I looked up, when my eyesight focused again, I saw him. He stumbled out of the car, he danced and swayed across the street, and left after killing my mum.
I assumed she knew. It was her dad and every part of me blamed her. I didn't think of why she had anxiety, I didn't think why she couldn't stand being around people and I definitely didn't ask myself why she flinched a lot when we first met. I didn't think. I just saw red.
So after I beat the living daylights out of the drunk murderer in front of me, I went to her.
I wish I calmed down and let her explain. I wish I never said those things to her. I caused her panic attack and I caused her amnesia. I deserved to feel the pain every night while I tried to sleep. I deserved to feel the constant stabbing of knives in my chest.
I wasn't giving up, never would I give up, she was the only person I've ever loved and I needed her. I didn't deserve her and I was horrible to her, I was the cause of her panic attack, her accident and her amnesia but I couldn't let her go. I just begged that when her memory did come back, then she'd hear me out and listen to me before leaving me.
I was incredibly selfish, I knew this, but I needed her. She was the only person I let in after my mum died and I know I was the only person she let in after her mum died. After her dad abused her for eleven years. Just thinking that caused my anger to burn within me. I clenched my fists tightly, stopping myself from punching something, more specifically his head again and again again.
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Solitude
RomanceOaklee is a loner; a hermit; a recluse; someone who takes being an introvert like an extreme sport. She enjoys living in solitude, with writing her third novel and taking her Cocker Spaniel, Loki, for walks along the canals and the field next to it...