Page 28 of Please Remember

"No, I don't think you do," I say and turn to look at them both. "You know that if I don't trust you, you can't get close enough to find thetruth. You still think I'm holding things back, and I wish I was. I'd tell you if I was, just to be done with you, but I'm not. It seems nothing I do is enough. Everyone looks at me like I’m someone I'm not, and they want me to know things I wish I knew. It's never enough. I don't know enough for you. I don't remember enough for Jax. And my mother... well, at least I have a feeling that her disappointment isn't anything new."

Sighing, Shields looks at the ground. "We need to explore all possibilities. And you having a part in all of this is a possibility. Not a very likely one, sure. Regardless, we do want to help. I want to know who did this, and I want to lock them away."

"Do you have any idea how it feels to be a constant disappointment to everyone around you? To not be the person everyone expects and wants? I can't be the woman Jax is in love with. The memories with my best friend aren't there. My mother scares the hell out of me, but that's instinct more than memory. And then you two. I feel like I should've just stayed in that place. It’s obvious my reappearance is ruining everyone's lives and making everything more difficult. I want to remember, but I can't!" I shout.

The tears flow freely now, and I crouch down to the ground and hug my knees. This was just a waste of time like everything else.

"Cellar?" Parsons asks.

"That's what you took from this?" Shields asks, and I look to see her glaring at her partner.

"You said cellar, not basement, Allie," he says, ignoring the intense look of almost hatred from Shields.

Sniffling, I wipe my eyes. "Uh, yeah. I mean, it was downstairs, but it wasn't finished. There were dirt floors, so they put down rugsfrom the cot to the shower to stop my feet from getting muddy. And there were no windows."

"I'm sorry, Allie," he says. "I had my doubts, but I think I was wrong."

"Really? You mean I passed whatever test you put me through? The test I wasn't given any study materials for but expected to ace?"

He smirks. "Yes, you did. This isn't the right area. None of these houses have cellars. Not like how you described."

"What do you mean?" I ask and stand. "How do you know?"

"This development was built about ten years ago, and all of them either have finished basements or were roughed in. Cement floors and windows. If you had no windows, and it was dirt floors, we're looking for an older house. Which also means it's likely secluded and not in a neighborhood. Our search just got a lot harder because the woods span thirty miles."

"But I didn't walk that far," I say.

He shakes his head. "You were weaving, so we're going to have to look at the point where you stepped out from and determine what routes you may have taken. We're probably looking at quite a few because we don't know how long you were walking or how fast. That will leave a lot of ground to cover."

"For the record, only a crazy person would lock themselves away for seven years and barely feed themselves for attention. And I don't think I'm crazy. I'm just really trying to figure out who I am."

"I really am sorry, Allie. I'm used to being lied to by everyone, and I tend to assume the worst. It's a fault of mine."

"It really is," Shields agrees. "And I do believe you. The fact you skipped the police station makes you a little crazy, but not to that extent."

Parsons lets out a sigh. "If you'd like, I can ask for someone else to be assigned to your case. I want you to feel comfortable."

The idea is appealing, but I know I'll have to relive all of this over and over. More than I already have to. "I don't want to do this again and again. I've answered the same questions enough times, and I know Jax has, too. He's too tall to be the person who did this, and based on how he reacted to seeing me, he would never have helped anyone do this. Besides, he has nothing to gain from it. From what I'm told, we were really happy."

"The person who did this... they took care of you when you were injured," he says. "Did they say anything to you during that time?"

I shake my head as I think back. "No, but they came multiple times a day to clean and rebandage the wound. And give me pain relievers. Once I didn't need the ointment they used any longer, we moved to only once a day visits to drop off food, water, and empty my bathroom pail."

"But they seemed to know what they were doing? When they took care of the wound?"

"Um, they weren't a doctor, but it wasn't just someone who was winging it. They always came with a caddy of supplies. Gauze pads, antiseptic, ointment, and tape. Some other things, too, but I never really paid that much attention."

The detectives look at each other. "This person has some type of medical training. At least basics," Shields says.

"And you're sure they never said a word to you?" Parsons asks.

"Never. I tried talking to them when they came to take care of me, but they never said a word. I tried asking what happened. You know, what'd I hit my head on, but they never spoke. Didn't even nod unlessit was a generic question about things like whether I was allowed to read the books on the shelf. Nothing about me or what happened."

"You said the only part of them that was exposed was their eyes. Do you remember what color they were?"

I look at him and try to remember, but I shake my head. "The only time there was light, it was on me, not them. It was too dark."

"Thank you for coming with us. I know it wasn't the most pleasant experience, but I do feel like we've made some progress, though."

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