Page 62 of Help Me Remember

“And maybe you’re trying to jog my memory a little?”

“Oh, and you’re not hoping to get more of your memory back? Don’t make this a just me thing.”

“Right. Because you wouldn’t benefit from me getting my memory back,” I told him with a glare. My temper was getting the better of me, but it wasn’t Eric’s fault. The unease wouldn’t leave me alone, and I was starting to feel like a caged animal, forced to pace back and forth in a cage it could neither understand nor tolerate. “Because you wouldn’t like confirmation of whether or not I’m the giant, evil bastard that mounting evidence keeps proving me to be.”

Eric glared furiously at me. “That is not what I’m trying to do! I want you to be wrong. I want to be right. I want to make the little voice in my head that keeps questioning that faith shut the fuck up and leave me alone, so I can be happy my best friend is alive and well and getting his mind back together. That the man I’ve been in love with since I was fifteen is still the same man I remember from all those years ago.”

I stiffened, shoulders going back and straight. “L-love?”

Eric’s cheeks colored furiously. “What? Did you think I was just hot for your body the whole time? Don’t get me wrong, lust played a part but c’mon, Dyl. Do you really think someone can be close friends and be attracted to someone at the same time and not develop some romantic feelings?”

“I…hadn’t given it any thought?” I said slowly, forgetting what I’d even been frustrated about in the first place.

Eric rolled his eyes. “Christ. You can survive a fight, manage to keep yourself in one piece when you don’t even know who you are, take a bullet, and get us through a high-speed chase, but understanding basic human emotions is beyond you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I understand how irritated I am right now. That’s crystal clear.”

“Look, maybe when things have died down a bit, and we’re not hiding in your childhood home, maybe we can talk…feelings more,” he said, and I wondered just how much he was looking forward to the conversation considering how uncomfortable he seemed with the idea.

Before I could do more than try to think of something to make him feel better, I felt a chill trickle down my back. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I watched myself reach out, fiddling with something in front of me. For a moment, the kitchen swam out of view, and I saw bare shelves close to me, a space open in the floor. I was tucking away a plastic object, along with a small notebook. At the same time, I pulled a bundle of cash out of the space, not bothering to count it because I knew how much was there since I’d put it there in the first place.

“Let’s hope they don’t fuck this one up,” I heard myself say, and then the kitchen came back into view. Eric sat at the opposite end of the table, staring at me in pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” I repeated dumbly, trying to understand what had just happened.

“You hope who doesn’t fuck what up?”

“I said that out loud?”

“Uh…yeah? Wait, did you remember something?”

My fingers twitching, I turned to face the storage space I had rooted through earlier. Standing up, I marched over and crouched down. It was exactly what had just filled my mind’s eye only seconds ago. I reached toward the side and the nearest corner. The kitchen tiles extended into the storage closet, but I hooked my fingers under one of the squares, pulling it away. There was only wood, but without hesitating, I pressed against a particular spot with enough force until I heard a soft click.

“Dylan?” Eric said softly from behind me. “What are you doing?”

“This…I used this house,” I said, drawing away the square of wood. If I hadn’t somehow remembered how to find and access it, I would have never noticed the seam that gave it away.

“For…for what?” Eric asked, and I felt his hand on my shoulder.

“I-I don’t know exactly,” I said, my hand shaking a little as I drew out the small plastic object and the notebook. “But I hid these things here.”

“A notebook and…flash drive?” Eric said, leaning forward to see into the space. “Do you know what’s on them?”

“No,” I said, flipping the drive around in my hand before letting myself drop back to sit on the floor.

Holding the notebook, I looked it over. It was small, easily able to fit into my pockets, and wrapped in a thick rubber band. I removed the band and set it aside, flipping open the notebook to look at it in the light from the nearby window.

“Of course it’s not in English,” Eric muttered as he peered over my shoulder. “Any chance you can make heads or tails of that?”

I tapped words as I spoke. “Rogue. Scorpion. Watcher. Something here about…moving to a…shadow?”

“That’s cryptic.”

“The whole thing is cryptic. Most of what’s written here is absolute gibberish.”

“I’m a little more impressed that you can read another language…what is that anyway?”

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