Memories
Chapter Two: Forgotten
By: Angel Vanilla
Coldfiredragon: Thanks! I'm glad you liked the first person, it's kind of hard for me to write like that. I did have a page break between parts, but I guess the site doesn't accept my type of page break. (That sucks.) : (
Pcsoccerpmt: I'm glad you like it! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
(Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories)
One of my pet peeves is when people stare at me because of my hair color, or make some comment. My hair is purple, and yes, that is my natural hair color. I don't know why, I don't know how, but it is. I don't know because I can't remember. The doctors told me that I had some sort of amnesia, or memory disorder or something.
I don't remember what my real name is, who my parents are, nothing. I don't remember where I used to live, or anything that happened to me short of three years ago. My earliest memory is waking up in a hospital, next to this red-haired girl they say was with me. Her name—well, the name we decided she would have—is Kori Anders. I live with her now, in Gotham City.
I can remember little bits and fragments of things, like fuzzy images. I remember a green cat, an eye mask, flying over a lake or bay or something, and some sort of blue light. And then there are other things that Kori and I just seem to know. We can fight well, even though neither of us can remember learning how. We know all of these numbers that we've figured out are access codes to something, things like that.
Neither of us can remember how we know, why, or who we were before. I'm not sure I want to know, though. I may not like the person I used to be. Although I can't help asking myself questions like, did I have friends before? Friends that are looking for me? Did I have a family? Sometimes it drives me crazy trying to remember.
Kori is such an innocent and hopeful person. She says that someday we'll remember—we just need the right stimulus. I don't think so. My memories are sealed up, even if I can remember small bits of dialogue and images. I just can't seem to be as hopeful as she can.
(Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories Memories)
