Dangerously Remembering

I groaned into consciousness, my pounding head making its presence known. I peered down at my body. I was constricted to a dining room chair by duck tape. I groaned again and finally focused on the couch. The three Wilsons were facing me, chatting quietly amongst themselves.
Everything came rushing back at an overwhelming rate. My amnesia, meeting them in the hospital for the first time, Dr. Lonnie’s (my psychologist) death, and Lola’s cell phone conversation. What did all of this mean?
Lola turned to me and grinned widely. It was cruel, nasty, and directed entirely towards me. Her long blond hair was tied up in the back. Her blue eyes took in my state. I wanted to scream. This was supposed to be my mother. How could she do such a thing? “Honey,” she said. “He’s awake. It’s time to play.” She turned towards Samantha, who nodded. My eyes widened.
Samantha was in on it? She was just a young girl. She was my little sister, my friend. But I could see that I was wrong. Her hair fell wildy around her face and she walked with a certain predator grace. She stood in front of me and reached a hand out to touch my face. I flinched away from her. “Why?” I asked in a weak voice. She sat back down on the couch and crossed her legs.
“I must start from the beginning,” she said in a strong voice. It was so much more different than her reserved soft demeanor that she had used before. “I grew up with a terrible person. Lola and James Wilson are not my actual parents, as you can see. But I love them dearly.” Lola and James beamed at her, like they were ecstatic about her approval. I finally saw what she was talking about. They looked nothing alike. “Anyways, my father was not a good man. He hurt me so many times. One time he took it too far. And eventually I made him pay for what he did.” I stared at Samantha in horror. She pulled up her shirt revealing her pale stomach. I could see a puckered scar there. But she didn’t give me a chance to respond. “So I spent a majority of my young years alone on the streets. It got so bad that I started craving companionship like the air I breathe. That’s when I met Lola and James.” She was constantly moving as she told me her life story. She seemed unable to even sit still for a second. Lola and James were like statues, an occasional grin appearing on their faces.
“They took me in,” Samantha said. “It was like I had the perfect family. They were just like me in almost every way. The craving I had disappeared and I was ok for a while.” Her face suddenly changed from happy to distant. “But I felt that craving come up again. It was stronger this time. And I realized what I wanted. A brother.” She smiled at me. I couldn’t say anything. I was just so confused.
She got up suddenly and started pacing the room. “I wanted someone to do things with. Someone close to my age. I saw you one day. You looked so happy with your mom. Just sitting there, feeding the birds at the park. I watched you from then on.” I stared at her as I felt a sick feeling begin in my stomach. Somehow I knew her story wouldn’t end well.
“I saw how you were. I wanted you for myself. But your mom was with you all of the time. Everywhere she took you, she had to touch you or caress your skin. I knew she would be a problem. So like any problem that I have, I fix it right on the spot.”
It took me a moment to register her words. “I-I-I don’t understand.”
“Oh don’t be stupid Dereck. You can’t possibly believe that your name is Simon now? Not after everything you’ve been through.” That’s when I remembered everything. And everything else fell into place.

My name is Dereck Mason. I am sixteen, and my mom and I have just moved here from Chicago. Dana Mason. That was my mom’s name. She was so pretty. Her caramel colored hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and framed her soft face. She had a motherly smile that comforted me at anytime, with the same color of eyes as mine. She was my cover of protection, and she helped me through the death of my father when I was seven.
I felt my face turn into an involuntary smile. But what began as a happy memory, quickly turned to sickening horror.

We were heading home that night, talking animatedly about the band concert we had just seen. We were laughing so hard tears were rolling down our faces. There was a car coming towards us in our lane. She didn’t see it until the last minute………..
Then there was the end of the car crash. I was still buckled up in the passenger seat, drifting in and out. My head had hit the dashboard on impact. My mom was lying on the hood of the car. She had gone through the windshield. She was covered in bits of glass, a few scattered on her clothes, a few protruding from her pale skin. I tried to speak, but all that came out was an agonized groan. Then I saw Samantha. She stalked around to the front of the car. Her cold eyes filled with warmth as they landed on me.
“We will be together soon,” she said. She held a large knife over my mother. I knew what she was going to do next and I needed to stop her. I coughed as I tried to speak, feeling a warm liquid trickle down my chin. I could do nothing. I was paralyzed. She stabbed my mother five times, and I watched in horror as the blood splashed on her deranged face. That’s when I drifted into darkness.

I was feeling a mixture of emotions by this point. Betrayal, grief, dread. I sobbed struggling against my restraints. Lola and James seemed to revel in it. They were just like her. Psychopaths. Samantha knelt beside me attempting to show concern, but her eyes remained empty. “Do not weep,” she said trying to make eye contact with me. “We had some good times together, I thought.”
Sure, we had some good times. She was my only friend through my amnesia episode. She would hang out with me, while everyone else would look at me with sympathy.
That’s the new kid. He’s weird. They would think.
She supported me on everything, except Dr. Lonnie. He had helped me through so much. And now he was dead. But none of what she did mattered now. None this care she showed me was real. None of this was real. She killed the one person who meant more to me than my own life. She was a monster.
And that’s when I felt it. The boiling, consuming, monstrous anger. It was building inside of me. All I could think about was beating them and shrieking at what they did. When Samantha stepped back in alarm, I was aware that I was screaming.
“You murderous monster,” I shrieked, my sobs crashing against my anger making me sound ferocious. “You killed my mom. You killed Dr. Lonnie. You think you and I were friends? You are wrong you dirty piece of-”
Her hand went across my face, stopping me from finishing my rant. James was on his feet suddenly; his menacing glare was matched by mine. But tears continued to roll down my face. Samantha put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he relaxed immediately.
“It’s ok,” she said softly. “Sit down.” He did just that and crossed his arms, keeping his glare on me. She turned towards me and smiled, a large knife clenched in her right hand. I hadn’t seen her pull it out. I felt my pulse quicken and I swallowed audibly. This is how I would die. The only comforting thought was that I would see my mother soon.
Samantha came over to me and whispered in my ear. “You couldn’t just forget, could you? You had to go and ruin what was good.” I felt bitter resentment as I leaned in closer to her ear.
“There was nothing good about you,” I spat. She was silent for a moment, a frozen statue at my side. But then with a soft, “What a shame,” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. She stepped back and wiped off her hands. My eyes landed on the knife protruding from my chest. I watched as the blood blossomed and start to run down my torso. The room started to tilt. I felt my head began to get heavier and I struggled to keep it up.
“It didn’t have to be this way, Simon,” Samantha said. I had struggled to hear what she was saying.
“It’s Dereck,” I said. “And I’m glad it was.” The room went black.

I woke up in the hospital. I almost laughed. “The same place I started,” I thought as I gazed around the room. A tall man in a police uniform was seated next to me reading a magazine. He noticed that I was awake and sat up quickly.
“Hey Dereck,” he said. “How are you feeling?” I hoped that he was not some important person that I had forgotten. “Who are you?”
“My name is Daniel Matthews. I was on your case from day one.” He showed me his badge and I appraised it with disinterest. “What happened?” The thought of Samantha made the heart monitor next to me jump erratically. Daniel looked at me with sympathetic eyes. “We came in right after she stabbed you. She and her parents are about to be put in a maximum security prison.” He put a hand on my bed, as if that would somehow comfort me. “We never stopped looking for you. It was Dr. Lonnie’s murder that finally gave us a lead. You actually helped us catch the most wanted criminals in the U.S.”
I laughed humorlessly. They were criminals and I didn’t even know it.

I was put in a foster home a few weeks later. Maria Peterson was the lady who ran it. She was warm, with inky black hair and olive skin. She treated me like one of her own. It was too bad that I couldn’t do the same for her. I went on with my life in a depressed mood. My anger usually got the best of me. Anything anyone said could set me off at any moment. So finally, Maria had me sent to a psychiatrist. He was a short bald man, who eventually gave up and put me on some strong medication. I made them believe I was taking it.
I eventually found my mother’s grave. It was located in the middle of Western Meadows, a local cemetery that was the best people could buy.
“Somehow that makes it better,” I thought sarcastically, as I traced the carved letters of her name. I spent an hour with her before I went back to the foster home.
When I got there, Maria was in the kitchen making dinner. I said a quiet hello and went into the living room to watch the news. I don’t know why I felt this deep need to know everything that was going on. The news seemed like the only thing that intrigued me. I was pretty sure I was addicted. All of a sudden, Samantha’s mug shot flashed onto the screen. I gasped and flinched away from the screen, preparing to shut of the TV when I heard what they were saying.
“Samantha Wilson, a former inmate, has just hung herself last night in her cell. Before she did this heinous act, she slit her wrists and wrote a message on the walls in blood.” A picture of the cell wall filled me with dread. I quickly shut off the TV and sat there in silence, the image of the message imprinted in my mind. It read:

I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU. I LOVE YOU DERECK.