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There was a toy in what I can only presume is my bag. It is the only one that holds clothing that fits me, and has photos of what looks like me, or almost me, in it. It’s a stuffed animal. A wolf. Which is confusing given how many fox related items I have found. I’d assumed that that was my animal, the fox. So why do I have a soft toy wolf instead?
The photo confuses me. There is two of me. Not taken in a mirror each has a different outfit. One the fox cardigan I found amongst my belongings. The other a leather jacket with a wolf motif on the sleeve. How could there be two near identical people within one photo. They clearly aren’t both me, I’d never dress like that not even for a Halloween, the haircuts are different anyway. Also, the other one’s nose is crooked as if it has been broken which mine has not.
I suppose I had a doppelganger. It is thought very person has 10 doppelgangers on the earth, however the chances of meeting any of them is incredibly slim. As I search further, I find more. Childhood photos with a third. He looks similar but not the same, quite a bit older. Who are these people? How do I know them?
Stratt didn’t want to send anyone with any living family so it can’t be that. They all look much too young to be dead.
The internet!
I was trying to get to sleep therefore my mind began wandering aimlessly. It returned to the photos and the wolf and how to get more information. Which of course eventually lead me to the wonderful world wide web. Which I have the entirety of available to me. Or at least everything that was on there up until the Hail Mary departed Earth. I can google myself or reverse image search something like that maybe that’ll help find these men.
The desktop in the lab is the most reliable computer so I make my way there, ignoring Mary’s that I should go to bed. I had an idea this is no time to sleep.
First a search on myself.
Ooh I have a Wikipedia article fascinating. Not too bad either, basic but says everything it needs to, however there isn’t anything on family just date of birth and where I grew up. Quite a fascinating article learnt a few things I’d forgotten. They got really detailed with some of my research but also listed awards I do not remember receiving because it was so long ago. Well, that amount of time and the amnesia drugs that I concluded I was given.
Right reverse image search time. Oh, wow okay that brought some stuff up. Some stunt man. Colton Seavers. Quite a lengthy Wikipedia page. He appears to work with one guy mostly some big action film actor I vaguely recall some of the movies. He had a major accident a few years ago, sounds like he recovered well though. Oh, what’s this he grew up not far from me. ‘Colton Seavers ne Gentry was raised in foster care from the age of 9, after the death of his father at the hands of his older brother, Courtland, who later died in prison aged 21.’ Ok well that’s quite something, the father was abusive and attacking colt by the sounds of it, so it was him trying to protect his brother. but still that a lot.
There were rumours of a third brother, but this had never been confirmed. Police reports available didn’t name the child, but crime scene photos show bunk beds as well as a single. There was also a man spotted with Seavers on multiple occasions, identified only as a blond haired man in a fox cardigan. A clear photo was never taken, so there is no way to know whether this is true.
Nope no that’s just silly rumours.
And while I do have a fox cardigan, I’m sure I’m not the only person with one it could be anyone.
But as I go through more photos of him and begin to search for Courtland Gentry as well, I find more photos, and the wolf jacket. It must just be a selfie with a famous guy; there was only one photo that is clearly him.
Never pegged myself for an action movie guy. But I have forgotten a lot, it takes a while for amnesia drugs to wear off particularly when you have very little to trigger memories.
I don’t really remember my parents or much about my childhood, just that I moved around a bunch and kept my head down working on school. Never really had friends, expect from one kid who stuck up for me. Until I moved, or did he move? Doesn’t matter I should go sleep.
I was more tired than I realised passing out as soon as I crawled back into bed.
The garden’s pretty, the foxes play in the night, I can see them through the window dancing around each other. Two small ones play fight, the bigger one intervenes calling them onwards in search of dinner.
We’re curled up in my bed, the bottom bunk, under the blanket playing with our fox and wolf toys to distract from the noises downstairs. I hear a scream, let’s hope it’s just the foxes. We fall asleep like this.
Another night reading. Colt is asleep but I’m too scared. Court returns and sees me awake. He looks hurt but I can’t see. He hides it.
‘Sleep Ry, it’s ok.’
But it isn’t.
Everything hurts. I can hear screaming. Who’s screaming? It can’t be me. But everything’s muddied.
Bang
Gasping
Is that me?
No, it’s Colt
Why’s he so wet?
My cheeks are wet.
Am I crying? What’s happening? Where’s Court?
I want Court
They’re taking him away
‘You’ll be alright my brothers, look after each other’
Then I’m screaming. We both are
Don’t separate us
I need them
I wake with a start.
That was not the plan. The plan was nice dreamless sleep after I’d stayed up for hours going down a rabbit hole. The plan was not to suddenly unlock memories of my apparently rather traumatic childhood. In which I appear to actually be a secret third brother. Nope, nope, just our brain making things up, that was not a true memory just a figment of my imagination. Secret third brother is a fanfiction trope nothing more nothing less. I go to grab my glasses and rub my face dropping what I appeared to have been clinging to. I’m not awake enough to comprehend my own actions yet. It’s the wolf. The wolf Colt had in my dream, I had a fox. Court gave them to us.
No, no, stop it. It was just a dream. We are an only child with a perfectly ordinary childhood, nothing majorly traumatic or miraculous. Just ordinary middle class white family in the suburbs of San Francisco.
But it felt so real. It felt real. I have these memories of my childhood, happy but alone are they even real. Of course they are it’s not my memories that are false, it’s the dream. A horrific creation by my mind after a late night and stress.
I’m wound up but manage to fall back to sleep tears soaking the pillow
‘Grace have family, Question?’
‘I don’t know,’ I answer surprising myself blinking away tears.
‘How not know?’
My brothers, I miss my brothers, but I don’t even remember them. I was a middle school teacher, I’ve skimmed some children’s psychology books. How messed up does someone have to be to entirely forget the two people they’re closest to.
‘I barely remember them Rock, with the amnesia pills and other stuff it makes it hard. I don’t think I want to remember it all anyway. They’re both dead anyways.’
‘What other stuff? Question.’
‘We had a bad childhood, it wasn’t happy. Our dad, well he wasn’t great at being a human let alone a father. Then he died and we got split up. I don’t remember specifics, but it was hard.’ I take a shaky breath, I don’t want to remember but every so often more appears, usually in dreams.
‘Leaky space blob.’
‘Ha, yeah leaky space blob.’ I laugh while the tears continue rolling down my cheek.