Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(50)

‘What about my mother?’ I utter dazedly. My voice strangled. ‘Did I ever meet her?’

Zen walks back to the table and switches off the hard drive. From here I can see the soft green glow dim and finally extinguish. ‘You thought you did.’

‘Did I even have one?’

‘Not like the one you remembered. She was a figment just like the rest of them. But as for a real mother –’ he shakes his head forlornly – ‘I really don’t know.’

‘And Rio. Is he . . . was he my father?’

This time, I manage to get the word out.

Zen’s fists clench into balls and I can see him eyeing the gun on the table. ‘That man is not your father,’ he growls.

‘But he lived with me?’

‘Yes,’ he concedes. ‘But he was also the one who was controlling your mind. He is not to be trusted under any circumstances.’

I think about the person I saw in the barn. When I looked into his placid greenish-grey eyes, I saw something there. Something I couldn’t pinpoint. But it made me want to protect him from harm.

Was that just residue from a series of fabricated memories?

Or was it something real?

I wonder if I’ll ever know.

Despite the warm blanket around me, my whole body has turned numb. But at least I’ve stopped shivering.

‘Zen?’ I ask softly.

He sits down on the floor next to my head. ‘Hmmm?’

‘If so many of my memories weren’t real, how do I know I can even trust the ones you showed me?’

He pulls his knees to his chest and clasps his hands around his ankles. ‘You can’t,’ he admits. ‘You can’t trust any memories. They’re too easily manipulated. You can only trust what you feel. What you know to be true.’

‘But,’ I protest, desperation seeping in, ‘what if I don’t—’

‘Shh,’ he says. ‘A part of you will always know. You just have to figure out which part to listen to.’

He scoots in closer and begins to run his fingers through my hair.

His presence has a calming effect on me. And I’m grateful that he’s here. That he’s the one telling me all of this. Even though I know how much it pains him to do it. He’s like a shield that I’m able to place between myself and the truth. Softening the blow to some extent. Absorbing a tiny fraction of the impact. Making it just the slightest bit less horrible.

And now I understand why I called him Zen.

I can feel my eyelids start to sag. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

‘Don’t fight it, Sera,’ he tells me. ‘Sleep. I’ll stay up.’

But I’m afraid of the silence. Afraid of the thoughts it will bring. And of the memories that I, ironically, once longed for more than anything.

‘Keep talking,’ I slur through drooping lips.

He chuckles. ‘What do you want me to talk about?’

‘Tell me more about the locket,’ I say.

‘I had it especially designed for you.’ I can hear the wistfulness in his voice. ‘You always loved that symbol. The eternal knot. You said it looked like two intertwined hearts. Forever connected. Forever linked.’

‘How many times did I forget you?’ My voice is hoarse and barely audible.

He sighs. ‘Too many to count.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I offer weakly.

But he laughs again. ‘It’s not your fault.’ I can hear the soft rustle of his fingers running through my hair. ‘Besides, the joke was on them. Because I was never really gone.’

I nod weakly into the pillow.

I want to tell him that I understand. That I’m starting to get it. That I think maybe he’s always been there. Lingering somewhere inside of me. Clinging desperately.

Revealing himself in subtle ways that I just couldn’t understand.

Even though I still don’t remember any of the details he’s told me, I feel the shadows of our past together. It continues to run through my veins. It echoes in his laugh. It’s reflected in his eyes.

Reminding me that I’m safe here. With him.

Like clues left behind for me to find. Clues that somehow made their mark in permanent ink.

Perhaps some things simply can’t be erased.

He bends down and whispers softly in my ear, ‘Are you asleep?’

‘No,’ I murmur.

‘I want to try something.’

He gently places two fingertips against my forehead, directly above the bridge of my nose.

Instantly the skin between my eyes flares with a soothing white heat. Exactly like it did when I saw him outside the hospital. And in the parking lot of the supermarket. Except this time it’s even hotter. It runs deeper. More intense than it’s ever been before.

And then, in a flash, I know why.

A memory comes pouring in.

I open my eyes just long enough to see the tiny silver cube sitting on the table above us. No longer lit up. No longer transmitting a signal. Off.

Which means this memory isn’t coming from a stolen hard drive. It’s coming from me. From somewhere within. Where it’s been hiding this whole time. Waiting.

The midday sun is bright in the sky. Shining down on us. Illuminating my tiny world.

A world that has gotten infinitely bigger since he entered it.