Page 26 of Angel
“No,” he frowned. “I’m sorry.”
I bitterly clicked my tongue. “I’m worthless.”
“Don’t say that,” he fiercely said. “The past isn’t who you are anyway.”
I studied his face and decided he meant what he said. It helped some.
“Anyway,” he went on, “Now that this has happened you might start remembering other things.”
“Maybe.”
Hopefully any other repressed memories were better than the one of that fateful day. Not likely, though. Wasn’t the point of repressing memories that you wouldn’t have to think about unbearable things?
“You should sleep.”
“Can’t. It’s just not possible.”
“All right,” he conceded.
“Has Sophia called back?”
He checked his phone. “No.”
I sighed and dropped my head back against the inclined bed. “TV it is, I guess.”
Angelo got the remote again and clicked through the channels, finally settling on a rerun of some old black and white show from the fifties. I did my best to pay attention, but the reality of everything that had happened was still there.
The memories. The fears. They seemed just as real as ten years ago.
I couldn’t help but think maybe I’d been better off in the dark.
