Page 20 of Amnesty

“He won’t want me,” I whispered. I spoke so low it was practically just a tortured thought.

“What?” Dr. Kline asked, sitting forward, trying to hear.

I reworded my thoughts, speaking up. “If I’m not her, everything will change.”

“You mean Eddie.” She surmised, understanding.

I nodded. “He says it doesn’t matter… but I think it does. If I’m not her, then I’m not the girl he’s been waiting for the last twelve years.”

“You think he only loves you because of who you may be?”

“I don’t know,” I said openly. It seemed awfully unfair to think such a thing about Eddie. I knew him. I knew he cared about me… so much.

But I also couldn’t shake the way I felt. The way Widow West’s words haunted me.He doesn’t love you.

“Do you think the only thing about you that’s worth loving is your name?”

“No,” I said. I saw what she was doing. “But it’s complicated.”

“Yes. This is a very unique situation.”

“Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago that Eddie decided you weren’t Sadie? That the allergy to shellfish was proof you weren’t her, and he didn’t care. In fact…” She went on. “I was here the night you both were brought in over a week ago. I heard him tell you he didn’t care if you were Sadie or not.”

I nodded. “I thought it was settled. But it’s not.”

“Do you think perhaps you’re projecting your worries about being Sadie onto Eddie instead of turning them toward yourself?”

“That’s a lot of shrink talk, Dr. Kline. Dumb it down for me.”

She smothered a smile. “Maybe you worry what Eddie will think because it’s easier than worrying about howyouwill feel if you aren’t Sadie.”

“If I’m not Sadie, then who am I?” I whispered.

“Do you want to be Sadie?”

I shrugged. “At least if I was, I would know where I came from.”

“No other memories that might give you a clue?”

I shook my head adamantly and then thought about the brief, traumatizing memory I had at the paintball field. “No. I don’t want to remember.”

“But you want to know.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s normal to feel as if you’re being held back by things you can’t remember.”

“How do you know?” I challenged.

She blinked. “I guess I don’t.”

It was wrong of me, made me feel guilty, but I felt an inkling of satisfaction when she admitted that.

“What will change if you find out your past identity? Will your future change? Will who you are now change?”

My head was going to explode. I swore it was as though she wanted me to tell her the meaning of life.

“Finding out who I am…” I began and paused. “Will get rid of the nagging thoughts in my head. It will give me some peace.”

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