Once within the room where my memories were slumbering I franticly started throwing files everywhere in search of mine. File upon, file upon file I searched. Making the floor a sea of white paper and words. After already seeping through 4 file cabinets I finally reached the one where my answers were. “Mrs. Ofelia Grace Cross” I happily mumbled to myself reading aloud its heading. I frantically again started reading through all the information. My husbands name was written in the family section. Mr. Tristan Luke Cross. But there was another name underneath it also. Miss.
After trying to think about my mystery families names, grasping on to the slightest hope I might remember something. I sighed and gave up and went back to cheating and reading more information on the file. My eyebrows rose as I saw the header. ‘Cause for hospitalization’. But that information to my frustration hadn’t yet been filled in. Damn hospital slackers I thought to myself. However it did have the address of where I was currently living and what I did for a living. It read: Occupation: Architect. This confused me slightly that out of everything I could possibly be it was that. But also brought on a painful sense of hurt in my stomach. Had I really lost all sense of who I really was before I woke up? I shook my head side to side dismissing such a terrifying thought like and true coward and forced my attention into reading where I live. All it said was 22 old station apartments. That’s where I needed to go.
I worked my way down the fire exit stairs to the pavement out side. The touch of the cold stone on my feet was unwelcomingly cold and rough on my skin. File in hand I took another look at the address of my home. There were road signs on the other side of the entrance other the road from the hospital, but I couldn’t see them right in the dark no matter how much my eyes strained and stared at them. One little baby step at a time I headed towards them. My feet had an abundance of little cuts and scrapes on them from walking through the tiny little pieces of shingle and onto the grass verge of the pavement. The trees surrounding the hospital were so large and close together they reminded me of prison walls as I stared back at them. I got to the pavements edge with my cold toes hanging over it like little monkey feet. As I was about to venture across the silent road to the sign I heard a faint sound from in the forest patch of the hospital. “Ofelia.” It weakly murmured out to me. I didn’t want to look. Terrified I kept my eyes straight ahead in the darkness only lit by a few eerie street lamps. “Ofelia.” It said more clearly as if it was raising its voice for attention. My walk turned into a hasty jog over the road to the sign. Still ignoring it I looked at the dirty directions. The sign was high from the ground yet filled with graffiti. There weren’t any clear directions to where I needed to go. But there was one to the station. “Station house… how far away can it be?” I whispered cheerily to myself and jogged off as fast as my feet could bare the pain in the direction.
I’d jogged for what seemed like a lifetime. As some cars past me I got very concerned looks. But yet again who wouldn’t give a concerned look to a woman running at the side of the road in a hospital gown with no shoes or anything like that? Walking and walking the search for home became a tiring thing to do. Desperation pulled me through however. I felt so lost in this world. None of which I recognised anything of. All the houses looked the same. Awfully the same as each other. Just as clinical as the hospital. Was there any escape from this dullness? Just as that thought passed through my mind a black blur appeared out of the corner of my blood shot eyes. At the end of the road was a house. Scorched black. A train line went over the top of it on a bridge that went over the road. It filled me with curiosity as I got nearer and nearer to until eventually the horror was before my eyes.
Right before me stood a burnt house with half a train hanging off the bridge. The train had fallen off the line and crushed the house and burnt it it appeared. Like a child curious to see I enter the front garden and went to the door. “No…” slipped off my cold lips and into the air that I could see in front of my face as I saw on a sign next to the door. Station house. This is where I live. All manors of horrors filled my mind with the possibilities. The place reeked of suffering and horror. Filled with fear I ripped the police yellow tape away and pushed my way through the half black door…
The smell of smoke and something metallicy swirled up my nose as my eyes were caressed with a wall of black. Everything inside was ruined. A staircase still stood with pictures in broken frames lying across its steps. Slowly. And shaking I walked towards them. I picked one up but the picture was burnt and the detail melted. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a room with its door open. Without hesitation I haled my bleeding feet up the splintered stairs and burst into the room gasping for breath… When I saw myself in the mirror…
My eyes looked down as I looked down with the shame of my appearance. At the bottom of the cloudy mirror lay a small wooden box with beautiful carvings engraved on its top. I knelt down in the dust to open it…Pictures filled the box… Of me…and my family. Looking through them all filled my eyes with tears. Especially as I reached the one of just us three. Tears fell down face like a waterfall of despair. The poison in my vanes burnt more than ever as my organs were virtually poking out of my back they sunk so deep. He had long beautiful chestnut hair and so did she. With the most enchanting brown eyes and brown trench coat. His smile haunted my thoughts along with hers…Out of rage I threw the picture onto the floor and stood up as I drove my fist into the mirror. Shattered pieces of glass stabbed into my pale hand as the river of blood swept down my arm. Squinting my eyes with tears with pure rage I felt a warm breath caress my neck and tingle down my cold spine. I slowly lifted my head. Looking into the mirror. “Ofelia…my love”. Cursed to see the sight of my husband’s corpse standing behind me. His lips were inches away from my neck as he gently warmed my neck. And his brown long hair reflecting the moon light hanging over his eyes… I looked down in the mirror to my chest. His knuckles sticking out from my chest as his hands were gripping onto my heart. My breathing raced like never before as the pain sunk in. My head had uncontrollable pain init. The poison really was rushing through my vanes as the pain of having my heart gripped sunk in like a knife. Slowly his knuckles were disappearing until I heard the sound of my organs squelching inside of my chest. Until finally. My heart stopped… I fell to the floor like a fly falling out of the sky. Laying there paralyzed and weak. My broken body seemed to crawl with unlimited pain. Shattered mirror pieces lay like me across the floor. Desperation led me to lift out my pale weak shaking arm filled with fear to see what stood behind me. Hesitantly, unsteadily, slowly holding up the broken mirror piece above my dieing body. To see him standing there smiling down on me. “You’re free Ofelia. We’re free.” I heard as the last thing. Before the darkness returned… for the last time.
The doctors traced my steps to the house after discovering I was gone. It was declared that I had died from the sudden memory loss from the box of pictures as my post-mortem revealed. My brain couldn’t take it and my heart stopped.
But thats not what happened at all.
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