Page 38 of What's Left of Me

“Is there anything in his hands?”

“He has gloves on. A lunchbox. He’s here to feed me.”

“Tell me the memory, Phoenix. Play it all out for me a piece at a time, with Noel right next to you.”

I stared at the ceiling, trying to picture every word Phoenix said, so I could be as much in this as he was.

“He kneels in front of me, puts the black lunchbox down and opens it. It’s water, a sandwich…ham and cheese, an apple, and corn chips.”

“Very good, Phoenix. What else?”

“He tells me to eat it all, every bite, that I needed to stay healthy, it was important.”

“What did his voice sound like?”

“Gravelly, deep, bored.”

“Does he stay with you while you eat?” How Aziza was staying so calm when I wanted to scream was a testament to her professionalism.

“He always stays.”

“Does he talk to you while you eat?”

He simply nodded.

“What did he say to you in this particular memory, Phoenix?”

Again, he gripped my shirt, and I curled my fingers with his.

“He told me he was the last person I’d ever know, the only truth I’d ever hear, and when my time was up and I had completed my purpose, I’d know my pathetic life actually served him well.”

Yeah, I was motherfucking going to skin this psycho alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Phoenix

The memory lingeredafter Aziza roused me from it. I could remember the words, feelings, even the smells. I wasn’t sure it was suppressed memory, but the mundane things like him feeding me were filtering out of my mind every day.

As I lay there, my head on Noel’s chest, I tried to figure out if that voice and Hank’s were the same. I didn’t want to mess this up and hurt an innocent person.

“Phoenix, how are you doing?”

First, I glanced up to see Noel looking down at me with a sweet smile on his gorgeous face. Then I shifted to where Aziza had perched herself on the mattress.

“I’m okay.”

“Do you remember everything we just did?”

I nodded. “I do, but it seems like such an unimportant memory.”

“Does it? For some reason it’s the one you chose, which tells me that somewhere in that head of yours it’s a significant thing, and that may not register with you just yet.”

I supposed that could be.

“Would you like to go back to your room, or stay here a bit?” she asked.

“Oh, whatever.”

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