Lost in the dark: (Short story)

“Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.” People tell me every time I say that I can’t remember my childhood. But for me, not remembering and living without an identity is worse than torture. What was it like to be a child? Who were my friends, and what did we talk about? Isn’t there anything interesting for me to remember?

Whenever my friends recall their childhood, I just stare at their faces while listening. “Will these moments and faces, too, be forgotten tomorrow?”

Having a short memory might be good in a way, since I can’t remember neither good nor bad things that happened to me. But my heart’s memory remembers everything and keeps all the pain, sorrow and anguish inside it in boxes. This lingering heartache is bugging me, and I don’t even know what story is hiding behind it.

I kept walking on the street without direction, trying to collect the remaining fragments of my memory. My head went blank, and I froze on the spot. Shivers are sent down my spine, and images with vivid clarity started appearing before my eyes.

The pictures started to blur, and I became dizzy. A hand touched my shoulder and a man with a raspy voice asked “Are you okay?” I stared at him for a while unable to answer his question, and started walking again. On my way back home, I lost sense of time and felt like there’s a big hole in my chest that sucks all my feelings and existence. This feeling of emptiness lasted till I arrived to my house. As soon as I entered my room, all those painful memories of war and death started passing right before my eyes and I felt my insides being cut to shreds.

The image of a girl who took a bullet from a gun for me and lost her left eye, made me realize how coward and helpless I was. She lost her eye to protect me yet I left her behind drenched in blood, and fled for my life. Guilt is gnawing at me, each and every time I remember that day, and voices inside my head are blaming me for being alive. I couldn’t bear all this suffering and poked out my own eyes. Will I be forgiven after this?

Losing my eyesight lessened my burden, but the voices inside my head already sentenced me to death. A week of agony and torment went by as an eternity, and I’m already on the brink of my sanity.

Here I am, about to step out into the road putting an end to all my sufferings and shutting down all these ugly voices. I took a deep breath and before moving from my place, someone held my hand and waited for the red light. I couldn’t object or budge from my place, as if somewhere deep inside me I was waiting for this hand to save me.

The vehicles stopped moving, and the stranger said with a soft voice: “가자” (Let’s go). We crossed the road safely, she then released my hand. I wanted to thank her for saving me but my voice failed me. I tried to figure out if she’s still in the area since her scent is stuck in my nose, but I couldn’t. The only thing that I’m sure of is that I lost her in the dark.