As The Giver's hands landed on Jonas's back, the memory flooded in. He found himself in a small room. White walls greeted him with ominous eyes. As he looked around he saw a cage in the corner. There was only one shelf in the room, worn with age and use. On it he saw faded lining. It depicted a goose with a blue ribbon tied around its neck. He was sitting on a bed; it was rather short and squatty. A blanket was wrapped around him. The mattress was hard and gave off a smell of mustiness.
As he looked around he saw a rabbit curled up in his lap. He loved the animal's presence, but didn't know why. Why did he seem to care so much about this creature? He had shot so many during the memory of a hunting trip The Giver had given him just last week. It came to him though, just as everything had in the memories that he had not understood; a bond. He was bonded to the animal. The rabbit sat there obsessing with the constant stroking it received from Jonas. The memory was comforting, but it seemed to contain another meaning.
The faint intoxicating smell of paint reached him from a slight draft in the room. He wondered where the smell came from, but did not search long because in the corner across from the cage there sat an array of painting supplies. He looked up because he felt a light breeze brush across his face. It came from one of the windows facing him. The breeze was sweet and warm. He perceived the word; springtime. As he looked out over the neatly trimmed yard, he saw a pasture. It was full of fruit trees, all neatly aligned. He counted them. Ten, a good number, he thought.
All of the sudden he swerved around to face one of the blank white walls. He had heard voices, not whispering voices, or talking voices, or even voices raised in song, they were yelling, angry voices, voices full of resentment and hurt.
His heart started to beat faster and faster. The rabbit was disturbed by this and jumped abruptly away and on to the floor. Jonas could feel that the rabbit had scratched him on the leg as it sped out of his arms, but he did not care. The voices, he realized, belonged to his parents. His parents kept yelling and Jonas sensed the feeling he had felt before but not perceived; pain. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. His heart was ripping apart at every word. Then the ominous word he had known the memory to be about formed itself in Jonas's mind; divorce.
It felt like hours later when the voices died down and everything was silent. He turned away from the wall only to see a picture of his parents on their honeymoon. Pained by even a glimpse of the fragment of happy past he looked out of the window. There, outside of this enclosed room, was a placid world. It was full of happiness and joy.
The sun shone down and cast shadows from the trees onto the ground. Robins hopped up and down from their nests to gather food for the little ones 'back home'. They chirruped merrily and seemed to not care about Jonas staring down at them. His heart started to slow as he joined again into the monotonous rhythm of spring. The gently wafting breeze came through the window and brushed against his face once more.
Beyond the pasture of trees, he saw a small dog. It barked and happily ran to a man who stood on the porch of the neighboring house. Jonas finally looked at his own pet. The rabbit sat in the corner just behind the painting supplies. It looked up at him, wide-eyed and frightened. Jonas started to get up and comfort the animal, when he drifted back into the Annex room, back on the simple bed with the patchwork quilt.