Chapter Two: Blank Slates & New Beginnings

"Never forget that."

A woman with dirty blonde hair and blue-green eyes twirled her hair in frustration as she racked her mind for memories, for anything at all that would make her remember anything. But, she ended up with nothing. The tinkling voice in her head isn't any help at all. All it ever said was: 'never forget that.'

Exasperated with the irony of events, she gave out a groan of defeat and in that exact moment, the door opened. A gray-haired, blue-eyed elderly woman with short wavy hair came it bearing a tray of food.

"Don't push yourself too much, darling," the woman smiled in understanding. "It's bad for the nerves."

"It's just so annoying," the blonde said. "It's been a week and I remember nothing, Mrs. Miller."

Mrs. Miller. That was the name the elder woman gave to her when she gained consciousness almost a week ago. The kind woman apparently found her lying at the doorway, unconscious and without possession. Mrs. Miller took her in and had a doctor come and check up on her. She was found to have no injury or malady of any sort despite her lack of memory.

"It'll come to you," Mrs. Miller said, assuring the young woman. "Now, how about some breakfast?" She placed the tray on the lap of the youth.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that…again," the woman blushed in embarrassment as she realized that she has been treated to breakfast in bed every morning. "I'm already a burden to you and-"

"Oh, nonsense, dear," Mrs. Miller smiled. "I miss making breakfast for someone. It's been a while since I made breakfast for my son."

"Oh, where is he?" blue-green eyes sparked. She was grateful for the change of topic.

"As a matter of fact, he's still sleeping in one of the rooms," Mrs. Miller informed her. "He arrived yesterday from America so he's still jet lagged. I expect that he'd wake up sometime around noon."

"All the way from America?" the girl tried to remember why she hadn't heard his arrival but then recalled that Mrs. Miller left late in the afternoon and she had fallen asleep waiting for her.

Mrs. Miller nodded. "But he'll be staying here now to manage the house."

"This isn't your home?"

"My husband owns the property. An old friend left it in his care," Mrs. Miller explained. "It's a boarding house and he's the caretaker of the house. He's leaving it to my son since he's retiring this coming fall."

"You're separated from your husband?" Curiosity got the better of the woman. Mrs. Miller wasn't really the one to open up a topic and despite that she had been with the elder for a week, she didn't really know much about her.

"Yes," Mrs. Miller smiled sadly. "Eric and I agreed it was for the best though. The only regret I had was not letting him be the father to my son."

Silence fell upon them only to be broken by the distant sound of a door opening and closing.

"Oh dear, speak of the devil," Mrs. Miller gave a small grin. "Eric stayed the night over and he's probably hungry." She glanced at the untouched tray on lying on the sheets. "Better eat that up before it gets cold."

The youth just nodded and proceeded to eat her breakfast.

Satisfied, Mrs. Miller then proceeded to leave the room to wake up her son residing in the room beside hers. Seeing that the grown man looked peaceful as he slept, she couldn't seem to have the heart to break his slumber. Instead, she headed to the kitchen to greet her ex-husband.

"Eric," she greeted warmly.

"Susan," Eric Sweet nodded in return, having the tendency to call people by their given name. "How's the girl?"

"She's fine," Mrs. Miller said, sitting down beside Mr. Sweet by the table as he ate the prepared meal. "I just don't understand why we can't tell her the truth."

"It's complicated," Mr. Sweet sighed, running his hand through his white hair.

"I'll say." She agreed before furrowing her brows. "But, doesn't she have the right to know?"

"The mind has its way of protecting itself. Maybe, there's a reason why she doesn't recall a thing."

"It could've been an accident," she reasoned out.

"We had a doctor examine her," Mr. Sweet reminded. "No broken bones, or wounds and not even bruises! How do you explain that?"

Mrs. Miller kept quiet, not knowing what to say anymore.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Sweet said after the growing silence bothered him. "I know that she has grown on you and you think that you're betraying her trust but this situation is peculiar. I mean, a former dormer turning up out of the blue after a decade with no recollection isn't exactly an ideal situation."

"She's not just an ordinary girl, is she?" She narrowed her eyes, wondering why her ex-husband was stubborn on keeping the girl in the dark.

Mr. Sweet made no response, nor did he look at Mrs. Miller in the eye.

"She has something to do with it, right?" Mrs. Miller said, finally connecting the dots of the puzzle.

Knowing the hidden meaning, Mr. Sweet nodded guiltily. It was no secret to Mrs. Miller that he was part of a secret society, one of the reasons for their separation.

"What will we do with her then?" She couldn't hide the disdain in her voice, now knowing the truth.

"She can stay here, I guess," Mr. Sweet said after pondering a while. "She could help Edison with the house."

"And, I'm assuming we would tell Eddie nothing?"

"Edison should know nothing," Mr. Sweet said with much conviction. "Ms. Martin's past-"

Footsteps made Mr. Sweet falter and he shot a look towards the doorway where the said girl stood carrying a tray in her hands. The couple looked like deers caught in the headlights as she entered the kitchen.

"I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?" she asked ever so cautiously.

"No, no, dear," Mrs. Miller smiled warmly, taking the tray from her hands. "We were just talking about…" Not knowing what to say, Mrs. Miller trailed off.

"About?"

"… about what to call you," Mr. Sweet finished. "It must be weird not to remember anything much less your name, right? I'm Eric Sweet, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Sweet," she smiled at the man, placing him as Mrs. Miller's ex-husband. "And, it is weird to have no memories at all."

"So, how about it, dear?" Mrs. Miller asked, thoughtfully recalling that she had called the girl by forms of endearment the whole week. "What shall we call you?"

"Actually, I have no idea-"

"Is there a name that holds a particular sentimental meaning?" Mr. Sweet interrupted, looking at her hopefully.

"Let me think," the blonde tried racking her mind for any memory. Closing her eyes, she focused on remembering. Much to her surprise, she recalled a voice musing the name, "Brielle."

"Brielle?" Mr. Sweet repeated trying not to look too disappointed.

"Yes," she nodded. "For some reason, I recall a voice saying the name Brielle."

"You remember things?"

"It's either that or I'm hearing voices in my head," she smiled good-naturedly.

"Does the voice mention a surname?" Mrs. Miller teased.

"Unfortunately not," she sighed. "What do you suggest my temporary surname be, Mrs. Miller?"

"It's quite discriminatory but I think Miller suits well with the name," the elderly woman smiled.

"I have no objections to the name Miller."

Mrs. Miller smiled at the girl. "Well, Brielle Miller it is."

"I guess so," the newly named Brielle Miller gave a wistful sigh.

"Can't anyone get some quiet around here?" an American accented voice floated through the kitchen. "I-"

A dirty blonde-haired man with piercing green eyes entered the kitchen wearing a white shirt and checkered boxers. He stopped at the sight of the unfamiliar girl in the kitchen wearing a robe over her pajamas.

"I'm sorry," he glanced at the other occupants of the room. "I didn't know we had guests."

"It's alright, Eddie," Mrs. Miller smiled at her son. "This is Brielle Miller."

"A distant cousin?" Eddie furrowed his brows, trying to place the girl in his family tree.

"Completely unrelated," Brielle grinned at the man, "…I think."

"Ah," Eddie nodded. "It makes sense. I'm Eddie Miller."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Brielle smiled.

"Same," Eddie said as he gave out a yawn, giving a quiet apology as he felt his parents' glares. Sitting down across his father, Eddie addressed Brielle as he grabbed a piece of toast from a stack. "So, what brings you here, Brielle?"

Her smiled faltered just a bit at the question. "I have no idea," she said honestly.

"You have no idea?" Eddie echoed.

"She lost her memory," Mrs. Miller filled in. "I found her about a week ago by the front door unconscious."

"Ah, so we're adopting her?" Eddie asked casually.

"What?" Mr. Sweet nearly spat out the coffee he was drinking.

"Well, remember when I was seven," Eddie started, a hint of a mischievous grin on his face, "I said I wanted a baby brother or sister for Christmas and you never really got me that and gave me a divorce instead? Well, is this my really late birthday present, then?"

Brielle bit her lip to keep her from sprouting a giggle, as Mrs. Miller and Mr. Sweet looked kind of scandalized at their son's statement.

"Well, you can view it that way…" Mrs. Miller said after the initial shock finally left her. "She's going to stay here for a while."

"Really?" Brielle shot a hopeful look at Mrs. Miller.

"Well, until your memory returns, I suppose you have nowhere to go," Mrs. Miller said sadly. "So, you're very much welcome to stay here until then."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Brielle launched herself towards Mrs. Miller, giving her a bear hug.

"And for today, I think your 'adoptive brother' could take you to London for a wee bit of shopping," Mrs. Miller smiled down at the girl. "I think you could use a new wardrobe, especially since you're wearing clothes from the attic."

"Which, I might add," Eddie grinned, "is sorta creepy. I mean the people who wore those are probably corpses now, corpses that haunt the attic."

"You actually believe there are ghosts in the attic?" Brielle sounded amused.

"Well, what else could be in the attic? Frankenstein's lab?"

"Anything is possible. For all we know, there could be a…" she racked her mind for most outrageous thing. "A tomb or something."

"A tomb," Eddie chuckled. "Way to use your imagination-"

"Back to the point, Edison," Mr. Sweet interrupted. "You will take Ms. Ma-Miller downtown to go shopping."

"Way to start the morning," Eddie groaned, cowering slightly at the stern glances his parents gave him.

After breakfast, the two blondes had an hour and a half to get ready before the 'shopping trip'. Forced into a cab headed for London, Eddie and Brielle rode in silence until they reached their destination.

"So, what kind of clothes do you wear?" Eddie asked, making small talk as he helped her out of the cab.

"I honestly have no idea," Brielle answered honestly.

Eddie looked at her intensely. "So, this memory thing is really no joke?"

Brielle just nodded. "It kinda make things harder since I don't really remember stores much."

"Or, we could look at this in a different perspective," Eddie grinned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we could think of you as something like a blank slate."

"Blank slate?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Eddie grimaced. "But, Brielle Miller, I'm gonna give you a makeover."

AN: Yeah. I could never kill someone off. :)

And sorry, I had to change her name. But seriously, Eddielle and Fabrielle sounds cool. Lol.

Review :D