It doesn't end well...

20- How To Run From The Mess You Made

DAPHNE

I tap my feet on the floorboards. Why isn't he back yet? I release a breath. Okay. Daphne, chill. Why am I so nervous? Dagon said he'd have information about my parents today and it's almost nine pm.

When the door opens, I jump down from the bed. He shuts the door. I frown examining him, why does he look like that?

"What's wrong?"

"Don't get scared"

"What do you mean?" I ask. He hands me an envelope and I hesitantly take it. Why is my heart beating so fast?

Opening the envelope, I stare at a written statement from the hospital declaring my parents' death. Beneath the report, it mentions the car accident and how the only survivor was their sixteen-year-old daughter. Me. This clearly states that I was in the car when they had the accident but...I wasn't. Looking at the next paper, it has my medical records and they state that after the accident I was unconscious for three months.

No...this isn't true. After their deaths, I was in the hospital because I fainted not because I was in a coma and it certainly wasn't for three months. What is happening?

"I was confused because you never mentioned this and I knew you weren't hiding anything from me so I dug deeper and got the number of your therapist. She explained to me that after the accident there were gaps in your memory...you didn't just forget what happened but it was as if the memory was never there"

I sit on the ground because my legs can no longer support me. I don't understand any of this. I don't understand.

He crouches down in front of me.

"It's okay if you can't understand"

"No, it's not...I..."

"You're shaking. You need to calm down" he mutters softly. I can't be calm. I just found out that there's a hole in my memory. I can't be calm.

I want to know...I want to remember.

"Dagon, please, I want to remember... vampires can do that right?" I grip his arms tightly. Desperately. I need to know.

"Are you sure?" He asks. I nod.

"I need you to remember something from your childhood... anything at all and I need you to trust me, do you trust me?"

Do I trust him? He's here. He's always with me when I need him. Can I trust him? I think I already do and so I nod.

Soon, as if in a trance I am no longer in my room but in a white room. It's a huge white room with doors, white doors.

"Each of these doors hold a memory, we'll keep looking till we find the right memory."

"Alright"

"You need to open the doors, I can't because it's not my memory"

I open the first door and the memory floods out.

"Dad, why do I need a therapist?"

"Because you're not okay sweetie"

I shut the door. I can't do this. The memory comes flooding back. I can't do this, I was only seven back then but it still hurts so much. Blinking back the self-pity, I push open another door.

"What is wrong with you?! You're so destructive!"

"Because you wouldn't listen to me! The both of you never listen to me"

"Stop being dramatic, your therapist will be here soon" Mom says.

Okay. Next door. Actually, no. I skip a lot of doors before I open another one.