Amnesia Is A B****Mature

Chapter Three: Junior - Amnesia Is A Bitch.

It was a few days before the accident, at least. Or rather, Junior was pretty sure it had been a few days. For all he knew, it could have been years ago, and the sense that it was recent stemmed from the heavy fog of amnesia.

He had been looking for his mam. He didn't know why - the details were indeed skimpy - but he'd ducked his head in and out of all the downstairs rooms. He assumed she was taking a nap, and ascended the stairs with the intention of checking on, not disturbing, her. Whatever he'd wanted to ask or say to her wasn't important enough to interrupt her sleep.

"Mam?" he whispered, pushing her bedroom door open just slightly and peering into the cramped bedroom. The single bed, covered in a deep navy duvet dotted with faded orange stars, was empty, and the curtains were gaping open. The duvet had been crumpled, however, and there was something scattered across the bed.

Slipping inside, Junior headed to the bed and scooped up a pile of documents from the bed. His curiosity peaked as he registered what he saw in the first, the second, the third, as he flipped through them.

~

"Shit," sighed Junior, placing his forehead in the palm of his hand in frustration as the last tendrils of the past slipped away from his memory. "That's all I've got."

Carrie was looking at him hopelessly. She hadn't the slightest notion what to say, and Junior knew this well. "It's something, at least," she offered.

Junior nodded, unable to hide his half-heartedness.

"Is it to do with why you were on the street?"

He shrugged and gave a sad smile. "Anyway, what about your parents? Won't they be upset when they find a strange boy in the house with their daughter?"

Carrie stiffened visibly, and Junior sensed he'd plucked a nerve. "They're not back any time soon. They have... They have a meeting. With their lawyers."

"Oh." Junior frowned. "That sounds... serious."

"It is," Carrie replied sharply. "And it's none of your business."

Junior nodded in understanding, making a mental note not to open his mouth again, and hoping desperately that the note would stay put. Yet something at the back of his mind gave him the feeling that this was his business, and that it had everything to do with him.

The End

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