~ The Catch ~ pg 3

What do you do when you wake up one morning and cannot remember your own name? When you don’t understand the scowls of the strangers around you or the way just looking at them is like twisting a knife in your own gut? When the only thing you do understand is that you have to go somewhere you have no knowledge of? When your own body betrays you to the urge as it drives you off the edge of a cliff to face certain death? You cannot trust yourself, you cannot trust the people around you, and you certainly cannot trust the urge that pulls at you with such force, you have no control of your body.

This was the dilemma he was faced with as he realized he had survived the fall. An unnatural wind had slowed him down enough to save him from death, but the landing had not been soft. He ached all over. Picking himself up from the ground, he cringed at the sharp pain in his left leg. He soon found a nasty gash on his calf. Travelling would be less comfortable for it.

The girl’s angry voice found his ears and a different kind of pain washed over him. He hated the way she made him feel. A heaviness settled into his chest with each thought. Her voice. Her anger. The sight of the other man comforting her… And even the fact that she had not acknowledged him yet… it hurt. He had also fallen… He had almost died… But he stood alone… forgotten. Just like his memories. Bah! Why did he care?! That was the most infuriating thing. That some part of himself wanted her attention. 

Well, getting it certainly couldn’t make him feel any worse. With a harsh coldness he stated the facts. “He didn’t jump. I did.” There was a certain satisfaction in seeing them start at his voice. The man let go of her quickly and she seemed surprised or embarrassed or embarrassed to be surprised. He lumbered forward, setting his gaze on the man, his voice demanding. “My feet ran straight to where you stood, without conscious thought on my part, and I want an explanation for it, NOW!”

The End

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