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You were important to me.
Everyone tells me not to worry about you. Not yet. Not until I remember everything.
I’ve tried asking where you are. They told me you’re off on a boat, sailing far, far away to safety.
I wish that… somehow, you could’ve stayed, and found that safety here with me.
Though then again, I understand why you didn’t. I don’t remember how I got here, or how such a large piece of my head was charred off, but… the fact it happened at all probably means this place is dangerous.
And if you were important to me, which you appear to be, then… I suppose I would want you to be safe. Above all else.
It’s… strange, really. From the few photos of you I have… you really don’t seem like an object that I’d compliment all that well. You seem, to me, like someone confident in who they are. With your proud smiles in front of that eyesore of a building… you seem like someone who’s gotten their act together, and sees no need to change a thing about themselves.
You don’t seem like the type of person to have their heart open enough to care for someone like me. Even if I’m not quite sure what me… is.
But in so many of those pictures, I’m right by your side. Smiling with you, completely carefree and joyful as if blinded by the sun itself. You have your arm wrapped around me, as if I mean something to you.
And when I picture you in my own head…
All I feel… is warmth.
I feel the glow from those radiant smiles seep into the fibres of my page. I feel the same carefree joy I saw in those pictures of you. Of us.
I may not quite understand why it was us yet… but soon I will. Soon everything will come flooding back to me, and maybe we’ll laugh about this together like it was just a distant memory we’d both like to forget.
To forget…
I wish I didn’t forget.
Though I wish, more than anything, that you were here with me. I wish I could hold your hand as you’d ramble about who we were together. I wish you’d comfort me with tales of the bliss we must’ve felt, of the laughter we must’ve shared, of the sorrow we must’ve overcome.
Even if your memories wouldn’t quite feel like mine… maybe something would click. Maybe I’d remember that they were our memories.
I don’t recognise anyone or anything here. It’s all so… overwhelming. The constant questions from the spirits, the murky smell of this mansion, the muffled chatter and silent pity… It scares me to death.
I cannot recall a single thing about you. I can’t even remember your name. And yet…
To me, you feel… safe.
I know that if you were here, I could trust you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to tell me about who I was more than you.
You’d be patient with me. When you’d hold my hand, you’d trace through every little crevice of it as if it were familiar to you - because it is. I know it is.
And I’d feel safe.
I hope the spirits will let me search for you soon, wherever you are.
And that then, when I find you… maybe, we can be safe together.
Because… I just know that we’re meant to be together.
Always.
Please, don’t leave me until I find my way back to you.
-
I can hear their voices.
They think they’re far away enough, but I can still hear their voices.
They’re muffled, faint, but drenched in pity. I can’t quite make out the words, but the flow of noise is constant, like a sea of voices with waves of mumbles and mutters crashing upon the shore.
I don’t want to hear those voices anymore. They feel so suffocating.
I don’t want to be trapped here anymore.
Wherever here is… it isn’t safe.
Not like you are.
I can’t just lie here and do nothing. Not any longer.
Every step sends several pulses of pain throughout my entire body, and yet those pulses pale in comparison to the agony of my loneliness.
My steps feel almost… unreal. Like I’m little more than a marionette with its strings cut, wandering aimlessly with no hands to hold me together.
With every door I open as I explore this place, It feels as if another one shuts. The sound is agonising, but anything is better than those voices…
…What did your voice sound like?
I wonder if it was as warm as your memory. Or as warm as your touch would be.
I don’t know what I’m doing. What I’m searching for.
You?
But I already know where you are. Or at least, where they told me you are. In which case, I won’t find you here.
Am I looking for some sort of exit then? A way out of this madness?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
One door I open stops me in my tracks, catching the air from my lungs all at once.
The room itself evokes no emotions from me. It seems as disturbing as all the others.
And yet… in the centre, lies a simple piano. A glorious instrument, really. And though I have no memory of ever even walking up to one… somewhere, somehow, something in me flickers at the sight. Something almost electric.
I’m not convinced it’ll help or save me in any way… but something compels me to walk towards it.
The plethora of keys is so overwhelming, all lined up before me like steps on a path I cannot see.
And yet, the moment my fingers aligned with even just one…
…Something clicked.
I heard it then. My question from before was answered.
Your voice.
Just like with the spirits, I couldn’t make out any of the words. But your voice, just as I suspected, was warm. Warm and full of compassion, patience and understanding.
As my fingers danced along the keys with an indescribable foreign familiarity, I heard you sing along to my broken song. You lifted me up, and showed me how to shine. Your voice was nothing like what I’ve heard so far; elegant, graceful and so, so divine.
It comforted me. Grounded me. I felt that same safety I had when I saw those pictures.
I could… relax. For a little while.
It was such a euphoric sensation, really. For just a few moments, I was left in pure bliss.
There were beats of the song I didn’t play. Beats of our song reserved for you. There was something missing, I know there was, but I heard your voice throughout it all. For me, that was enough.
Enough for me to forget…
Forget…
Oh… just how much did I forget…?
The light of whatever had taken over me faded into nothing, and my fingers stopped moving entirely.
Your voice flew away just as quickly as it’d arrived.
Ironic, isn’t it? Almost as if that song described our own paths, converging for however long before you had to leave me.
What part did you have to play in our music? I wish I knew. I wish you were here to show me.
I wish you were here to complete me.
I miss you. I don’t know you, but god do I miss you. I miss you, your presence, and your voice oh so much.
I want to be in your arms again, held, safe, so, so badly…
Before I know it, the spirits are back, along with that voiceless being with that logo I can’t recall the meaning of. They all urge me to go back to bed, insisting the rest would make me feel better.
I don’t want to leave that piano.
I don’t want to leave you.
Their voices will never be as beautiful as yours. They’ll always hurt.
-
I didn’t realise how much I could miss being free.
Free of them, of that mansion, of the dusty hallways and empty promises. It’s not complete freedom, but the fresh air brushing against my page is enough to trick me into thinking it is.
The first few steps are still slow and painful, but the lush, emerald grass beneath my feet is enough to reassure me it’ll be worth it.
Soon enough, I catch a horrid scent on the wind, ashy and suffocating like the thoughts that taint my mind. I can’t help but glance towards its source, met with the sight of several trees toppled over on the ground. Lying there. Helpless.
Many were reduced to nothing but bits of broken bark among the grass, blackened by something fierce and unpredictable.
It appears as if it once may have been a grand forest. I can only imagine the vast range of wildlife that thrived here. And yet, it has been reduced to a soulless shell of its former glory.
The sight reminds me of myself, in a way. Was I tangled up in that mess? It wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume I could have been.
Did you bear witness to whatever happened here?
How long ago was it that you left me? Days? Weeks? Months?
If you were here, I know you would’ve kept me safe.
You would’ve fought tooth and nail to defend me, wouldn’t you? And yet, you’re not here.
There’s no use dwelling on that thought. What matters is that you left to find safety, refuge, in a place far, far away from here. For that, I am grateful.
Something deep within my core compels me to investigate, even as the suffocating stench threatens to swallow me whole and the smoke forces my eyes shut.
I despise it, and yet I make no move to stop, cracking every abandoned twig on the floor with my steps.
After what feels like eons, the smell clears. I’ve made it out.
I expect it to be replaced with a fresh nothingness, and yet my senses are met with hints of… citrus?
I open my eyes and am met with a clump of orange trees, completely untouched by the disaster, which remain in perfect condition.
How is this possible? Was it fate that allowed this specific set of trees to survive?
I reach up to pick an orange I find on a low branch, twirling it within my fingers and holding it close to my face.
It reminds me of you.
It smells… sweet. Soothing, even.
It smells like home.
Where is home? Home can’t be the mansion. The mansion will never feel safe.
I felt safe around you.
Home is with you.
Perhaps that’s why this orange feels so… familiar.
It only takes me a few more slow steps to find that one of these trees has a heart carved into it, with two initials proudly residing within its sketches. I couldn't quite make them out, seeing as enough of the tree's bark had fallen off to the point that they no longer resembled letters.
And yet, somehow… I know those must be our initials.
I can only imagine how happy and free we must have been, before whatever danger that forced you to leave struck this island. This place must have meant everything to us.
Now it simply feels… barren. Despite this pocket of beauty, almost all of what we’ve built here is gone.
This place, when we were together, was our home. A home we cherished, making our mark here and ensuring nature itself would remember our love.
Even if I wouldn't.
Maybe that is why fate allowed these trees to be preserved.
I can only hope that it will be that same fate that reunites us one day.
The mansion feels alien to me. I don’t want to return to it. If only I could stop time for eternity and bask in the brittle comfort of this moment.
Even so, I know it cannot last forever. I turn back towards the mansion, though I do not drop the orange at my feet, still clutching it with all the strength I have.
One day I will find my way back home.
Back to you.
I promise.
-
I don't know what to do anymore.
Nothing they've tried is working. No matter what they do or how much they try to remind me, I can't remember any of the times we've had together. The spirits' attempts are hopeless.
I've tried to ask them if I can leave. I've begged them to let me leave, but they claim there's no 'safe' way to do so.
There is no way out. All we can do… is wait.
What if there's no point in waiting? What if this is all there is, all there will ever be?
It feels agonising, watching the seconds tick by while I do nothing but sit in this bed. The discomfort crawls all the way to my core, practically immobilising me as I try to think of a possible way out of this dull nightmare.
If you were here, maybe you'd find some sort of positive to this situation. Maybe you'd tell me no matter what happens to my burnt, hollow husk, you'd still remain right by my side. Maybe you'd tell me you'll always love me.
No matter how much my loneliness haunts me now, I know I can't simply give up. I know this cannot last forever. I will find you, wherever you are.
I have to find you.
The odd logo I'd seen countless times walked into the room, bringing with it a small, round glass. They place it on the desk beside me.
I'd never really acknowledged that desk before. I had no reason to do so, seeing as I never had anything worth placing on top of it.
They remain there, by my side, making no move to disturb the silence. Though they have no face, I can't imagine that they feel anything other than pity.
A hand of theirs is placed on my shoulder and they pat it a few times.
The gesture, as always, felt completely shallow. A clueless and careless attempt to make me feel better. Every moment they made contact with me was like a hundred needles pricking into my arm, intruding on it and reminding me of the inescapable pain I'm in. I brush them off soon enough, and afterwards they leave me be.
My attention pivots to the small glass on the desk. The shape of it is almost eerily similar to yours, reflecting the dreary mansion's light with ease. Somehow, that light seems brighter and warmer than anything else in the room.
I reach my hand over to pick up the glass, caressing it gently as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Perhaps, at the moment, it really is.
My hands run over its rim and sides with ease, making sure no part of it goes untouched. Unappreciated.
The slight chill that accompanies the sensation somehow warms my very soul. The motions I'm making are so easy to perform, coming naturally to me as if this was something I'd done a thousand times before. Deep down, I know that I likely have.
You must've surely done the same to me. I can almost picture it, your hands running so carefully along the edge of my sheet as if it were sacred. You'd smile, and allow me to do the same to your glass, tracing patterns and shapes into it as you smile at me without a care in the world. You'd let your hands slide into mine, and we'd shuffle closer together, creating an ethereal kind of warmth unique to the love we share.
Together… we'd make each other feel safe.
I give the glass a small squeeze, phantom warmth radiating through my core as a sigh escapes my lips.
The second I placed the glass back on the desk, whatever warmth I'd been feeling almost immediately dissipated. The illusion broke apart, pieces of it scattered within my mind as I attempt to focus on something. Anything.
My eyes fall back onto the desk itself, noticing a couple drawers that'd previously gone unopened. I pulled the middle one open, curious to know if it had anything that could help me in any way.
All it had was a pen. A brown pen with a light yellow tip. I clicked it a few times, letting out a quiet hum as I wonder what it could've been doing there. Are the spirits aware of it? It may be nothing more than a pen, but clicking it feels… relieving, somehow.
I place it back in the drawer and shut it once more, my eyes instinctively snapping onto the glass I'd placed on the desk.
Someday, soon, I'll find my own way out of here. And I'll feel your touch once more.
-
I didn't expect the status quo to ever change.
One day, the spirits rushed into my room and demanded I head to the beach. I didn't understand why until I followed that instruction.
A massive boat was sailing right towards the island, carrying what I could only assume were dozens of different objects I'd never seen before. The sight made my heart stop entirely.
Maybe it was foolish of me, but… I couldn't help but hope that you were among that crowd. That maybe my journey to find you would be over before it'd even have to begin. I wouldn't even have to leave the island at all, and the currents of the sea would have naturally brought you home to me.
I could practically imagine how bright your smile would be. The way you'd laugh, desperately, running right into my arms the second the boat landed on the shore. I'd laugh back as if no time at all has passed, your citrus scent flooding my senses all at once. We'd hold each other as if we were all that was left in the world. As if we were all that mattered.
When the boat finally did land, though, you were nowhere to be seen. Many other objects I didn't recognise overwhelmed me, all bombarding me with plenty of questions that I didn't and would never have the answer to. I scanned and searched the crowd, ignoring their constant arguing and the fuss they made over my charred corner.
Eventually, I had the strength to speak up, asking a question of my own.
"Where… w-where is he?"
My voice sounded so shaky and brittle, cracking from the lack of use. Part of me worried I'd look crazy to them… but if any of them know me, surely they'll know I mean you?
Worried glances are exchanged between the crowd, quiet whispers and insecure mumbles that send pulses of fear through me.
Though that's not what worries me most.
What worries me most… is the pity on their faces. That same pity I'd seen on the spirits' faces when I asked them a question.
The pity that only appeared on their faces when there was… something I didn't know. Something important. Something difficult to swallow.
Eventually, one of them stepped forward, a somber look on their face as they stared deeply into my eyes.
"Paper… I-I'm sorry… the Blu-ray ran out, and after it wore off on him… OJ… he…- he didn't…"
My heart shattered into a billion pieces.
In that moment, I knew what'd happened.
I knew that you were gone.
I knew that I'd never find you.
Wasn't it ironic, that this was the moment I learn your name? OJ… that has to be your name. It's so beautiful, so perfect, it can't belong to anyone else. It sticks so easily in my mind, like a missing piece of a puzzle was finally slot into place.
Realising what your name was should have been a moment of joy. Instead, only dread and despair pooled deep in my stomach.
One of them stepped forward, holding out a few sharp shards of glass. My hands tremble as I take them, feeling absolutely all of my limbs go weak all at once.
What… what do I do now?
It wasn't meant to be like this. Fate wasn't meant to keep us separated forever. I wasn't supposed to be left here alone.
I don't know when the tears started flowing from my eyes, rushing down my face in waves as the fibres of my page weakened.
Some of them slip into my mouth. They tasted bitter. Empty. Cold.
It was nothing like you.
I clutched the broken shards with all my might and dropped to the ground, barely registering the sensation of the sand digging into my knees. It felt as if I were drowning in my own tears, finding it impossible to even try to breathe.
All I could think about was the fact that you'd left me forever. Weren't you meant to be my other half?
I couldn't even preserve you in my memory. Now, I can't truly hold on to you in any way, shape or form. You've been almost completely erased.
I can't live like this. I can't live with the knowledge that I'll always feel this emptiness in my heart and soul where you once resided.
I refused to let go of the shards. How could I when they're all I have left of you?
All I have now… are fragments. Fragments of you in my memory. Fragments of you in my hands.
You'll never be whole again.
We'll never be complete again.
I'll never feel safe again.
I can't remember what happened next. Colours blurred together in my vision, distant voices tried their to comfort me in my sorrowful state, but none of it ever really reached me.
Before long, the world had faded into a bleak nothingness.
If I can't ever truly feel safe… what was the point of feeling anything at all?