Chapter 2: Remembering
I spat out my cigarette and crunched it under my foot, pulling my black trench coat tighter around me as the Atlantic wind tossed my long black hair like a veil over my face. I decided to go back inside because the icy wind was icing me. I clenched my eyes shut as I passed a memorial plaque, the emotion that I felt made me want to crawl back to my apartment and cut my wrists. It helps me feel in control of my own destiny even though I know it won't kill me.
When I went in I saw a large gathering around a table opposite the reception desk. I could hear every word of every conversation of the echoing, chattering masses. Glancing around I saw a poster announcing the event as the launch of some guy Brock Lovett's new book. I stood, alone and isolated at the back as the din of the humans faded.
"Hi everyone, my name is Bork Lovett" specked the man "I am here to launch my new book; The Beautiful Mystery of the Olympic." A loud cheer rang up. I clenched my fists and withdrew into my long coat. A single tear slid down my face. The very name of that ship pierced me to my fragile bones.
"This book is made up of the research and images I collected from the wreck of the Olympic in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean over the past 3 years, during which I did research at the site of the wreck."
The audience murmured in awe.
I was shaking uncontrollably. It was like watching a car crash. I was distraught and yet I couldn't look away as Brorck wheeled a projector out.
"The story of the Olympic has fascinated me since I started studying ship wrecks" began Brock "In fact I am not only interested in the stinking of the ship but also in the fate of the peeps on board it."
I didn't need to research it. I knew what happened that night; I saw it with my own eyes!
"Since we're all here, why don't we all look at these pictures that I took at the site of the wreckage of the Olympic?" Brock smiled. His suggestion was met with firm murmurs of agreement from his audience.
I was frozen in place, I tried to look away but I couldn't. Shivers ran up my spine as the projector flickered on…
On the screen before me was the ravaged skeleton of the Olympic, torn into two pieces and scattered across the ocean floor like the splinters of a crab, dashed on the rocks. The awe inspired gasps of the people reverberated around the room, deafening me. I was trapped. Each picture in the slideshow was worse than the last, the shattered railings, the shredded steel… I could once more hear the frightened screams rising from the depths of the Atlantic. The transition between each picture was like a drum thundering in my skull. There was no way out. The beating got louder and louder and-
I fell to my knees, screaming and clutching my ears.
When I looked up again, not one person had turned around or noticed me. I shivered and stood up. The slideshow had finished. I just wanted to leave.
"Wasn't that fascinating?" smiled Brock.
There were murmurs of agreement and I turned to leave.
"But now, this is the part that really interests me; the real beautiful mystery of the Olympic."
Brock adjusted the projector and the people stood in anticipation. I tilted my head to look out of curiosity.
I could never have anticipated..
A painting of a girl with long black hair, piercing blue eyes and delicate white skin…
"Isn't she beautiful?" Brock grinned "And if you'll look at the date on the picture, it was drawn the night the Olympic sank. That means that this girl saw everything that happened that night!"
There was a buzz of excitement from the audience. I began to feel faint. I couldn't believe it.
"If anyone has any information about this girl that they'd be willing to share with me" began Brock "You can reach me at the following phone number; after all, she really is the Beautiful mystery of the Olympic!"
I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. I felt suffocated by the shock and my emotions. The world began to tilt back and forth…
Tears blinding me, I ran back to my apartment as fast as I could.
