Just finished turnover ceremony, so I was thinking, memories would be terrible to lose. So this focuses on memories. I was tempted, but I don't know how a giant clover made up of hundreds of students holding candles at night would fit in the story. Ok, forgot this, so I don't own Ragnarok, Fenris, Loki, Chaos, or Iris. But I own the plot and all the other people. Happy reading.
It wasn't charity work, not really. He could've quit at any time, and he didn't have to pity her, but he came every chance he had.
It was almost a daily routine. Coming to the center, 3rd floor, amnesia ward. Then he'd see her once again, sitting on her own bed, staring blankly into space.
"Peter, I'm glad you came." Gladys smiled at her visitor and sighed. "You ok?" Sixteen-year-old Peter Heath sat down beside Gladys, tucking the sheets on the side of her bed.
"Am I going to forget again tomorrow?" Gladys asked, spooning her soup. "The doctor said that you're making great progress, so it won't be all your memories this time. Don't worry, maybe the stuff you'll remember will help." Peter said.
"I don't want to forget what I've done in the last week. I might forget you again. And I made this for you too. I had fun doing it, I don't want to forget." Gladys whined, taking out a wrapped package from under her pillow.
She's already twenty-six, yet she's still so childish. Is this what her memory loss does to her? Peter grimaced as he took the package. "Open it." Gladys said excitedly.
Ripping off the red and yellow paper, Peter found that Gladys had made what looked like a fuchsia scrapbook, decorated so grandly, as a child would with a school project.
"It's so you can show me what we did before. You know… The pictures you took and everything." Gladys smiled happily, pride showing in her work.
Peter flipped through the pages and sighed, seeing the pictures he had taken with his trusted camera, the same one he used for his work in journalism.
"Oh, look at the last few pages!" Gladys urged, tugging at his sleeve. Peter's eyes widened in wonder when he saw what was there.
Sketches produced beautifully were laid on every page, mostly of scenes from the pictures, and some of things one could see around the center.
"Do you like them?" Gladys asked softly, looking out the window. "They're lovely." Peter said sincerely.
He flipped through to the last page, then sighed and smiled when he saw the last drawing.
He was sketched with intricate detail on the paper, smiling like he never had. Is that how she sees me? I wish I could be so happy, but not while I know she'll forget me. Again. Peter hid his grave look from Gladys with a weak, fake smile saying, "Thank you so much Gladys. Thanks."
"Oh, and Peter?" "What is it?" Gladys smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Love you." She said innocently, smiling brightly. Peter didn't say anything. He just nodded and hugged Gladys, then left for that day. What she didn't know was that Peter was hiding his subtle tears from her.
"Why, hello there, Peter. Gladys just finished breakfast. Go ahead." Nurse Peg smiled at the regular visitor, and Peter braced himself for what was to come as he entered the ward.
Sitting there, on the same bed, was Gladys. But her eyes didn't sparkle with joy or did she show any excitement. She just raised her head in dull acknowledgement, and smiled slightly.
"Why, hello there. The doctor said I'd have a visitor today. Is it you?" She asked. Peter felt his throat dry and he held back a choke. "Y- Yes. I'm Peter. You know- er- knew me, actually."
"The doctor told me I have memory loss. Peter… Am I- Are you important to me? Because… I don't know." Gladys fiddled with her spoon and sighed.
Peter could hardly find the right words. He had experienced this lots of times before, but with every memory forgotten, it just got harder.
"Here." He said, handing her the fuchsia scrapbook from the day before. That day seems like it happened such a long time ago. Gladys is ten years older than me, but- she was like a child. She still had so much to do. But then- Will she have to go on forgetting forever?
Gladys took the scrapbook uncertainly, and leafed through the pages with a look of curiosity. The look was almost like the Gladys from before she forgot again. It is her. But… when I look into her blank eyes, I feel like I lose her every single time.
"I made this didn't I? And you…" Gladys started. She cut herself off in mid-sentence and started crying. "Gladys-" Peter reached out to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"How can I have forgotten? Everything… I don't want to forget again!!! I- I CAN"T FORGET! Not again…" She sobbed, clutching Peter's arm. "I don't think you have…" Peter said faintly, his voice hollow.
"Peter…" "Do you still care? You wouldn't be crying if you didn't." Peter interrupted. "Of course I care! No matter how much I try to remember, I can't. But I feel grief. I feel horrible for not remembering." Gladys said.
"But you DO remember. That's why you feel horrible about forgetting. Because you remember… remember that your memories ARE worth remembering." Peter said, with his own dawning realization.
"Peter… I don't want to forget…" She sobbed quietly. "You remember more than you think." Peter said, wrapping his arms around her.
Gladys was killed that night. Peter was a suspect in the whole thing, but no one could know. He was found on the road the same night. He had a paper clutched in his hand, and it said,
I don't want to forget again. I won't ever have to forget Peter, ever again. He'll be right with me, so I don't have to forget him anymore. It will be better.
-Gladys
Ok, so death comes frequently. I just can't stand one living in the world without the other, so there. Oh, and Gladys is Loki and Peter is Fenris.Deh:P Just kidding.