queerherowriter-blog
queerherowriter-blog
charlie
4 posts
a queer hero. a queer story.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
queerherowriter-blog · 7 years ago
Text
1.03 - My Friends (RETIRED)
(last edited March 31, 2014)
Cameron stands up next to the bed and then digs in his jean pockets for a second. He pulls out a phone and clicks a button. I can see the screen light on his face. He clicks another button and the phone light dies out, he says, “We only have about two hours left.”
        “Until what?” I ask.
        “Until your brain isn’t exactly pliable anymore. It’s pretty late already. Uh, wait here for a second.”
        “Wait! What?” I yell after him, but he darts around the corner and out of the room again. I can’t believe he left me again.
        Fortunately he is back within seconds. He is pushing a black wheel chair in front of him. He brings it into the room and towards the bed. He pushes his chair away from the bed with his foot and brings the wheel chair next to the bed. He gives me a curt, “c’mon,” and motions for me to get into the chair. He comes in around the chair and assists me into it as my legs feel weak still and my brain begins to get fuzzy.
        As I sit into the chair he goes around the chair again and spins me around until I’m facing the door. I grab onto the arms rests of the wheelchair to steady myself. “So, where are you taking me exactly?” I say as he pushes me through the doorframe and out into the hallway, which is also white.
        He sounds distracted, but says, “You and I are going on a little journey and I am going to try and break that memory hold in the next two hours. We are going to go a little harder than before, but don’t worry, I’m still going to tread lightly. I happen to know a lot about your past since we are such good friends and I know which memories to avoid.” He never looks at me while speaking, the entire time he is focusing on maneuvering the chair through the narrow hallway, which has other doors and a few ajar that looks similar to mine. I must be in the hospital. He pushes me through the hallway that opens up into a large room with a few rows of chairs and a reception desk. There is no one in the room. He sighs, “is everyone gone? Okay whatever, let’s just keep going. Now, Charlie, I’m just going to start talking about what life is like here for you and you let me know if you feel anything come back to you okay?”
        “Okay.”
        Cameron pushes me through the room to the other end where there are two doors. “Your name is Charlie. I told you that. You live in the Underground under the rule of the Providence. You know that.” Once we get to the door Cameron swings me around so I get a view of the way we came and uses his back to push open the doors as he pulls me with him. Then once outside he swings me around in front again. The entire scheme has changed. We are now in a wider hallway than before. The entire hallway is line with bricks. There are old lamps that hang from the walls to illuminate the hallway. The lamps only appear to be dim but the hallway is quite well lit with yellow light.
        “The Underground is our community and it gets its name because it is completely under Central Park in New York City. Of course our dimension extends towards the entire periphery of Central Park so what’s above ground is also ours as well. The Underground one of the communities exclusively for gifted people. Some call us, gifted, some call us freaks, some call us channelers, some call us wizards, you take your pick, we usually go with gifted, though. Once you came to the Underground you discovered that you had gifts that were very special, even more special than the average gifts you see around here.”
        What kind of gifts? I think to myself as Cameron wheels me to a four-way intersection in the hallways. I can see that there are now wooden doors in the walls. I wonder what’s behind them. I see two girls at the end of the hallway walking towards us. It’s weird to think about them, I can add them to the very small list of faces that I know. I know Cameron’s face, and my own, now I can add two others to the list. They must be in their early twenties, one is black and one is white. They are both in summer apparel. The black girl is wearing a pink summer dress and the white girl is wearing a tank top with short jean shorts. Unfortunately Cameron does not stop to talk to them, and takes a different fork in the intersection. I guess I don’t know them personally.
        “Benjamin, your friend who was kidnapped, had the ability to read magical powers. He could tell that you had not just one power, but four, which is ridiculous. You can channel the energy throughout your body, which isn’t that special around here, most folks can do that. We call those The Basics because just about everyone can do them. You can teleport, which is a little less common, but still really cool. However, those aren’t the really cool ones. You have what we call a rooted power. A gift that is so strong that it’s actually completely stuck in your DNA. You don’t need to use a wand or even move your body at all to use it. It’s quite remarkable really.” Cameron says it very proudly. I don’t know how to feel about all of this information, I’m taking it in, but I must say I don’t feel quite “remarkable,” as he put it. I can’t even believe I have powers. I feel so useless right now. I’m being pushed in a wheelchair.
Cameron wheels me around another corner and down a shorter hallway. The hallway opens up into a large circular room. It’s giant really. It’s not exactly circular though. There isn’t much wall; it’s one giant fork. Every direction there is a different hallway, some that go down and some go straight. I can’t even count how many there different halls you can choose. I can see that one of the halls goes up and there seems to be a light coming from above. That must be the exit.
Cameron spins the chair right and we cross in front of three hallway openings. “We have a few people here with rooted power. Ben, himself, had a rooted power. What makes you so incredibly special is that you have two rooted powers. They’re both amazing. You can heal yourself as well as others. In fact your healing abilities are quite incredible, you can–“ Cameron yanks the wheelchair back and I almost fall out of the chair. A man running with a little girl, on his back, darts out of the third hallway. They are both in swimwear. Both the man and Cameron apologize for our almost-collision.
Cameron continues as he turns the wheelchair down a hallway that descends deeper into the ground. The bricked walls continue here. “Anyway, you can heal a minor cut in seconds without doing anything. And the last one, this is the greatest thing, ever. It’s the coolest power I’ve ever seen to be honest. You have an extra life.”
“An extra life?” I repeat wildly. “What does that even mean?”
“It means what it sounds like,” Cameron exclaims, almost excited, “you have an extra life. You can die once and get up and die all over again! I mean your not immortal or anything, you can still be murdered, it’s just that the killer would have to wait for you to get back up and kill you again.”
I get a little giddy. Is that true? Do I have an extra life? What would that be like? To die? And then get up and walk away? Would I be like a zombie, like a ghost, or just completely normal? Now, I begin to feel a bit powerful. Then the thought strikes me.
“Wait, how do we know that I didn’t use this extra life when I was attacked? I mean, I might’ve been killed and then used it or something? Maybe that’s why my memory is gone, because this is my second life.”
“No,” Cameron says simply. He wheels me down a more narrow set of hallways now, these are more windy and curved, but they are still completely bricked. “That couldn’t of happened because your extra life was locked, you haven’t actually unlocked it yet, plus we think all of your other unlocked powers relocked themselves. That’s why you are healing as quick.”
“My powers have locked themselves?” I repeat, curious as to what that means.
“Yep, you see you can’t just use a power willy-nilly. You have to unlock it first. Some are super easy to unlock, like to unlock the basics you just have to calm your body down. It commonly happens when people are asleep, actually. However, rooted powers and more rare powers tend to be trickier to unlock. We know that Ben’s power was unlocked when his father was killed in a car accident with him when he was like seven,” Cameron says.
“Oh,” I say quietly. I have so many questions. This is very interesting to me. I can’t believe this is true. A part of me wants to try and unlock all of these powers right now and start playing with them. That healing power might be nice right now because my head still hurts. The other part of me just wants to sit Cameron down and ask him every question that comes to mind. I wonder what it will be like to unlock my powers. Will it hurt? What will I have to do?
Cameron halts me in front of a wooden door identical to all of the rest I have seen so far. “We’re here.” He says. He pulls out a small set of keys and finds a small one. He fiddles with the two locks on the door, turning the key the left way first and then the right way and then trying the other lock. I can see this may take some time so I ask him another question.
“Hey, if my memory is gone then how do I know how everything works? Like I know how to talk and I know that those keys open that door and I know that I’m sitting in a wheelchair,” I ask.
“Well, y’see Charlie.” He grunts trying to push open the still locked door. “Well, that’s all knowledge. You store that in a different part of your brain, so most of that is unharmed, however, so of it may be gone because that knowledge is attached to memories. That’s why you aren’t more psyched to be gifted, because you’ve been told all of that stuff before and your brain is accustomed to it. Ah there we go.”
I hear a click and Cameron pushes open the door. Cameron spins me and pushes me into the room. It’s a bedroom. The room is rectangular and the walls are made up of bricks painted lime green. The floors are no longer bricks but old, dull hardwood. There is a small twin-sized bed in the corner shoved into a little den in the wall, perfect for the size of the bed. I can see a signature near the bed that says in big, loopy, cursive handwriting, “Fiona Mulloy.” There is a small living room setting in the opposite corner of the room. It has a brown couch, a small TV, and a coffee table covered in water rings. Next to the couch there is an orange chair in the shape of a bird’s nest. It looks very comfortable. To our right there is also a desk that is piled on with books and has absolutely no system of organization.
On the side of the room opposite to Cameron and I, there are two doors, one that is narrow and lockless and another that is identical to the door we just entered in through, except I can see the internal side of the locks. The lockless door has a full-length mirror hanging on it. To our left there is a brown dresser, and a pile of fresh laundry on top, waiting to be put into the drawers.
I can see that Cameron is staring at me. As I look up at him he looks at me with that hopeful look on his face. Oh no. This is my room. Yep, that look on his face tells me he is definitely expecting me to have some reaction. I take another look around the room. Nothing. I don’t think I have the heart to tell him that I feel no connection to this room. I mean, it’s nice and all, but I don’t remember it.
“This is my room?” I ask him quietly.
“Yep,” he says, his voice a little giddy.
“I don’t feel anything here.”
He sighs, a little dramatically if you ask me. “I thought this would do it. One second, I’ve got another idea.”
He pulls out the same phone I saw before, but this time he pushes a few more buttons and puts the phone to his ear. He holds it there for a few seconds, looking around the room, trying to find a place on the wall to rest his eyes. I think his eyes settle on the bed. Then the person on the other end of the line picks up and I hear Cameron’s half of the conversation. “Yeah, it’s Cameron.” “He’s alright, he’s awake, but they were right, his memory is gone.” “Yeah.” “Hey could you come down here? Maybe one of you can trigger something.” “Yeah, bring them all.” “Yeah, fine.” “No, we’re in his room, this memory hold seems to be pretty strong.” “Yeah, just hurry.”
He hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket. Then looks at me and says, “while your friends are on their way, let’s see if we can get you into your bed. Maybe we can trigger something by putting you where you dream.”
He wheels me towards the bed and runs in front of me to pull the light blue covers away. I feel anxious. I have to meet new people and I’m just automatically supposed to be friends with them. I don’t even know who to expect should be coming.
As we reach the bed, Cameron helps me up and then turns me around slowly. I plop myself down on the bed and lift my own feet in. He pulls the covers over me and steps away. I shuffle around a little and then find a spot that matches the form of my body perfectly. I can feel my butt slip into a small indentation in the bed. It’s comfortable. I fumble with the blanket and discover there are actually two. One that is thin and white, it looks like it was knitted together with a nice, simple, square pattern on it. One on top is a thicker and seems like it is used for warmth. The blanket is a baby blue on top and the inside is also light green. I stare up at the lower ceiling over the bed as I enjoy the coolness under the sheets. This doesn’t bring up any memories either.
However, it does help me step in the direction of trusting Cameron more, since I do believe that this is my actual bed. I look over at him and say, “nothing.”
He pulls one side of his lip back in a half-frown. He sits me up on the edge of the bed and I place both of my hands on either side of me for balance. Then I hear a knock. I look up and see a small, thick girl with an acne-ridden face knocking on the doorframe since Cameron left the door open. Next to her is a thin black guy, probably the same age as me. His hair is cut almost flat on the top of his head. I can also see one girl peeking her head in between the two of them and a few other head bobbing up and down behind them. All of them staring at me. “Hey,” Cameron says, “c’mon in.”
The pimply girl in front comes in staring directly at me as she enters. She is wearing a light yellow summer dress. “Hey,” she says softly. Then she looks to Cameron and says, “What should we do?” I watch as others follow her in. The black boy, then a short girl with her light hair cropped short, she is very short and chubby, for lack of a better word. Then a drop-dead gorgeous girl follows her. Her hair is dark and put up in a high ponytail. She is in a tank top and short jeans. Behind her is a blonde girl who is in a outfit similar to the pretty girl, but obviously just not quite as pretty.
“You should just…” Cameron thinks for a moment, “uh, maybe just introduce yourself and then your relationship to him and then I don’t know, maybe a memory that the two of you shared that you know he might remember. But nothing too heavy for him, we’re trying to ease this thing, not break it, remember.” Cameron adds in quickly.
The girl smiles at him and then looks back at me. She comes closer and gets on the same level as me while grabbing one of my hands in her own. Her hair is nice, pretty. She has it down except for two locks on either side that come around and meets on the backside of her head.
“Well, Charlie, my name is Robin Sornoa.” She puts special emphasis on the “a.” “You and I are really good friends. And, uh, hmm, a memory, um, oh, you actually taught me how to play Marco Polo.” The girl named Robin says with a smile on her face. I hear a snicker from behind her, the pretty girl has her hand over her mouth. Robin ignores it and stares into my eyes. “Anything?”
“No.” I say.
She sighs a bit and then gets up and says, “Joe you want to try?” She gestures to the guy behind her.
The man named Joe takes her place as she steps back towards Cameron. He begins speaking a bit nervously, “Hey uh, Charlie. Uhm well my name is Joe, obviously, uh, Joe Bennett, to be more specific. Me and you are ten times better friends than you and Robin will ever be.” He begins to smile and chuckles a bit as some of the other people begin to laugh and Robin nudges Joe from behind. I let out a little laugh. “And, for a memory, uh, I can’t think of anything right now, uhm I don’t know, I’ll think of something.”
He steps back and the pretty girl moves in. I get nervous as she comes in closer to me. “Sup Charlie, well my name is Fiona Mulloy, I wrote it over there so you don’t forget.” She says pointing to the signature I had noticed on the wall before. “And our relationship, hmm,” she says while stroking an invisible beard on her hairless chin. “Well, you’re basically my bitch.” The people burst out into laughter. I do too. It was so unexpected, it was funny though and it relieves some of the tension I can feel in the room. The laughter dies out when Cameron gives a little, “Robin,” with the tone of a light warning in his voice.
“Alright, alright, I was just joking,” she says through some dying chuckles. “I guess we’re friends and–“
“Oh! I got my memory!” Joe interrupts her. “Like two week ago, I crashed in here on your couch and you fell asleep in the nest chair and the next morning I pour water on you and you got me back by egging me on the lawn.” He smiles at me.
I feel normal. That’s the only thing that that memory does for me, but it’s so much. For the first time since I woke up I feel normal. Thanks to Joe. I must make a mental note to get back to that area with him, that sounds like a fun friendship.
“Great memory you idiot, now if you wouldn’t mind shutting up for a few seconds. Thanks.” Fiona snaps at him. I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. I think she is because she’s smiling and chuckling lightly when she turns back to me. “Uh, for a memory between the two of us. I actually stood on your chest when I was signing my name on the wall. That was about a year ago I’d say.” She says it lightly though, like she actually cherishes that memory. Her face is soft and caring now. It’s amazing how much of a 180 she just made.
She stands up and joins Robin, and Joe. I need to remember these names. Robin, Joe, Fiona, Robin, Joe, Fiona, Robin, Joe, Fiona. And Cameron.
There’s an awkward moment as the two remaining girls look at each other and decide who should go next. Eventually, the blonde girl comes towards me, smiling about their awkwardness. I can see that she is wearing dark eye makeup. It brings out the green in her eyes.
“Charlie, I’m Claire Kollman. I’m your friend. And last December, we were supposed to meet these guys in the Tree house, but it was so cold in there, so you and I lit a fire and ended up coughing in the thick smoke while trying to put out the fire, because we’re idiots.” I’m pretty sure she says it all in one breath. She spoke so quickly that I’m not sure if I actually heard that right, but I guess we have a tree house at our disposal. I have to admit that sounds really cool.
Then Claire leans in and gives me an unexpected hug. I put one of my hands on her back in an effort to give her something to show my appreciation. She breaks the hug, grabs me by the shoulders and says, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Then she gets up and takes her old place since everyone is crowded on the other side of Cameron.
Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire, Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire, Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire. And Cameron.
The short, chubby girl takes her time walking over to me. She seems nervous as well. “Hi, Charlie.” She says with a small wave of her hand, even though I am just feet away from her. She stares at me for a few moments. “Hi,” I say. She stares at me like an abandoned child. She makes me feel helpless. I don’t like that.
She stares at me until Cameron says, “Tessa, time is kinda of the essence here.”
She shakes her head a bit. “Right, sorry. Okay. Name: Tessa Terns-Garden. Relationship: good friends. And memory: Uh, one time you and I were on the same team during the water gun fight at The Crash, and we worked together and shot down,” she chuckles a little to herself, “we took down Fiona and she got mad at us cause we ruined her hair.” She laughs. Joe starts to laugh. I look at Fiona, she is rolling her eyes a bit, but wears a smirk. I chuckle a bit.
Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire, Tessa, Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire, Tessa, Robin, Joe, Fiona, Claire, Tessa. And Cameron.
Cameron moves in front of Tessa and says, “anything?”
“Uh,” I look around at all of them, they are staring at me. I don’t like them staring at me. I want to remember them because some of these memories sound so fun, but I just don’t. I’m starting to feel pressure to feel these memories, especially from Cameron.
I want to say more than just “no” again, but before I can think of the words Fiona interrupts me. “Nothing. He doesn’t remember any of that. I can see it in his eyes.” They all turn from me to Fiona. I’m glad to have their eyes off of me. However, Fiona’s eyes are still trained on me, and she makes me just as nervous as I would be if they were all still staring at me. She’s too pretty. Her eyes are squinted and they intimidate me, but then they soften and she says, “it’s fine Charlie. We’ll just have to make new memories and make sure they’re even better.”
“Fiona.” Cameron uses the same type of warning as before. Fiona won’t hear it though, she looks at Cameron and says, “Look, Cam, I know you’re disappointed, but I don’t think you want to force it anymore, we should just try to bring him back to reality as much as possible now.”
Cameron looks back at me, he seems disappointed and tired.
Robin moves in and puts a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. He doesn’t look at her but keeps his eyes on me. “Cam,” she says softly, “Listen, you heard the healers from the Providence. They said that after twenty-four hours are up these things are nearly impossible to fix without doing something catastrophic, and I know you don’t want that.”
“I think we still have time.” Cameron says simply.
“It’s been twenty-nine hours” Fiona says, her arms folded.
Cameron’s eyes close. I guess we didn’t actually have two hours left. My mind is stuck like this. Forever. I’ll never remember any of those memories, not without something bad happening first.
“Twenty-nine hours?” I say.
“Cameron has been trying all night to get you to respond.” Fiona says, “Your mind was still all crazy at the time so you won’t remember those. You kept falling asleep and forgetting everything all over again, so Cameron was unsuccessful at getting you to remember anything, and now the time is up.”
“Fiona!” Tessa exclaims wildly.
“No she’s right.” Cameron says softly. His head is down now. “I guess the memory hold is just too strong.”
Cameron stands up. He looks over at all of them. He takes about four or five steps toward the door and then halts and spins around to look back at me. “Wait!” He yells out. “I have an idea. What if we unlock one of the powers?”
        They all look at him wildly.
“How?” Joe asks.
“With Robin!” Cameron says. He turns around to Robin and says, using his hands for emphasis, “Robin! You can use your gifts to calm Charlie down and slow his heart rate until we unlock the basics.”
They all look at him for a second.
“Oh c’mon, I know it’s a little unorthodox, but we could definitely do it. And the minor shock to his body and mind might be just enough to shake the memory hold loose a bit!” Cameron says using his hands for emphasis.
“I don’t know Cameron,” Robin says quietly, “I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable doing that.”
“Oh c’mon, this might be our last shot. Charlie’s a tough kid, we’ve done stuff like this before!” Cameron exclaims, getting visibly excited about his idea.
I’m thinking about it. A part of me has no idea what they are talking about, but I can’t help but feel very interested in this idea that they have. Plus, I’d really like to see what these “gifts” that I have are.
“I’ll do it.” I say loudly. I want this to happen. Not for the possibility of getting my memory back, but because I think I should try. For all I know, one day I may really want my memory back and to know that I didn’t do all that I could, might stick with me. Also, I really want to see what being gifted is like.
They look at me. Some, like Tessa and Claire, have pity on their faces. Robin just looks scared. I’m not sure if she’s confident in herself, but I’d like to try. What’s the worst that could happen?
Robin looks at all of them. I think we all know that she is the only one who is still against this plan. “Fine.” She says quietly, looking at the floor. “Uh, not here though, let’s get some space.”
“The Lounge?” Joe asks.
“Yeah, that should do. Put him in one of the chairs.” Robin responds.
Before I can even react Cameron and Joe move in on me. They take either side of me, each putting one hand under a knee and the other behind my back and they hoist me into the air.
Tessa is at the back door of the room and undoes the locks on the door. She swings it open and they carry me through. We come out into a narrow hallway in between two walls. It is just wide enough for Cameron and Joe to squeeze through with myself in between them. I feel like a child. I don’t like them carrying me.
This is another oddly shaped room. I can’t decide if it’s a hexagon or an octagon because I can’t count how many sides but there are walls that form a shape surrounding the open room. Each wall has a door with it. I assume they are other bedrooms since they look similar to mine.
The room is open and seems to be exactly what Joe called it, a lounge. It’s painted brick, like my room except, the paint is a pale brown color. It’s like one awesome living room. I can see there is a set of blue couches and chairs that match in the center, all of them facing a nicely sized flat screen television near one of the walls. There a few small tables strewn among the living room set.
In another section of the room I see a kitchen area. There is a corner with a laundry machine and a dryer. I can also make out a large table set that looks quiet messy. They carry me over to the living room section. Then they set me down gently in one of the blue chairs. Everyone assembles around me. Fiona and Claire sit down with their legs folded underneath them on the couch across from me, ready for a show. Cameron lifts up another one of the blue seats identical to mine and plops it down right in front of me. Robin moves in to take that seat.
“Now,” she says. I feel a chill run through me, this is happening quite fast, but I guess it has to. “All you have to do is look me in the eyes and focus on my pupils. I will invade you mind and slow your heart rate. After a few seconds you basics should unlock. You will feel a sort of shudder through your body, hopefully that will loosen the memory hold. Tell me immediately if your body begins to feel too cold.”
I nod. I didn’t expect to be this nervous. I think it’s because of all of the eyes on me and I’m now expected to do something amazing.
I look around at all of them and then at Robin who is already intensely focused on me. I realize that I need to be staring into her eyes. I look into them, they are almost full of life. They are a muddy brown, but something about them conveys a strong passion for love. I look for the details in the brownness of her eyes, but there isn’t any. I can feel the warmth and invitation in her eyes. After a few seconds I can feel myself beginning to get sleepy. She must be “invading my body” as she put it. That must be why I saw no life in her eyes.
I feel like I’m swaying. I watch as her pupils grow and shrink, over and over again. I try to listen for my heart beat. I can feel it in my chest. It beats at the same time as her eyes are dilating. It is slow. I feel uncomfortable but I try to control my breathing. I don’t think I can. I think she has control of me. I don’t like that. I feel uneasy. I feel cold. I need to tell her. She told me to tell her if I feel cold. I can feel the cold creeping up my extremities and toward the center of my body. Then, all at once the spreading stops and begins to recede. I can feel the warmth pushing the cold out of my body. It’s sweet relief. Warmth has never felt so good. I like it. I think if I was looking at my limbs I may actually see a blueness of cold fading away in them, because that’s what it feels like. The fading is slower now. It’s slowing down and I can feel the cold lying dormant in my fingertips and toes. Robin’s pupils are small now. Nearly invisible, leaving just that ugly brown color behind. I watch them for a second, they stay like that. I’m not sure if my heart is beating at all. Then, all at once, her pupils rapidly widen, almost completely diminishing the brown and the cold erupts from the tips of my toes and fingers and shudders throughout my body. It fights its way through my arms and legs and envelops my torso and then my heart in its icy grip. Freezing me to my core.
I slump in my chair.
“Are you okay?” Cameron shouts out a bit. “How do you feel?” He asks as he helps me sit up and lean back in my chair. “Anything?” He asks for what feels like the thousandth time today.
I think for a second. I know that was it. I just unlock my basic gifts. I felt that “shudder” that Robin was talking about. I wonder if it felt familiar to me. I think about what happened before I woke up. I try to remember Fiona writing her name on my wall while standing on my chest. I try to remember egging Joe. I try to remember almost burning down a tree house with Claire. I try to remember shooting water guns with Tessa. I try to remember teaching Robin how to play Marco Polo. I try to remember being attacked.
I shake my head.
I don’t remember anything. I won’t ever get my memory back.
1 note · View note
queerherowriter-blog · 7 years ago
Text
1.02 - What? (RETIRED)
(last edited March 31, 2014)
My eyes open. I blink as my pupils painfully adjust to the stale white light that shines above and blinds my vision. My lungs feel empty. I open my mouth to inhale deeply. I feel my jaw crack into place, painfully. I’m not sure what’s wrong. I’m not sure what I can do? Can I breathe? Yes. Can I hear? I don’t know maybe, but I don’t hear anything right now. Can I see? No, not yet, my eyes are taking their time adjusting to the light. Can I feel? I don’t know. I only feel my head lying on a pillow. I try to move. I feel my hands grasp into sheets. I’m in a bed. I can feel the blanket draping over my body. My body is tight, tense.
My eyes adjust. I see my feet propped up through the blanket. Except for the black pant legs that are crossed on the edge of my bed. I turn my head. It’s stiff. My neck cracks as it’s put into use. Now I see him. A man is asleep in a chair next to me, with his feet propped up on my bed.
Who is he? Why is he here?
Why am I here?
I tell my body to move, but it is very slow to respond. My legs have only just started listening to my brain and are shuffling. I need this blanket off of me. It is hot. I feel uncomfortable.
My body shuffles more, doing anything it can to remove this blanket. My hand gathers enough strength to escape the heat of the blanket. It slowly pushes the blanket down. Then a hand grabs me. The man is awake.
“Hey, relax.” He says softly.
I want to tell him to shut up, because he clearly doesn’t understand the inferno of heat that my body is experiencing as of this moment.
“Are you hot?” He continues in the same soft voice he uses as before. “Do you want me to help you with the blanket?”
I say nothing. Not on purpose, I mean to tell him, “yes please.” But nothing comes out. He takes my silence as a “yes,” thankfully, and pulls the blanket down below my feet. I can see that I am in a hospital gown and short white socks, my shins are exposed. I think my brain is fuzzy. I feel like it’s taking me too long to process everything. My brain feels like Jell-O.
I smile. I think. I mean to smile because my body gets a rush of cool air. I think I manage to smile, because he smiles at me. Then he sits back down in his chair, and scoots it in towards me.
He stares for a second, smiling awkwardly. “How are you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know how I am? How am I?
There’s an awkward silence. The man looks concerned. He takes a deep breath and then says, like it’s hard for him to say, “do you know your name?”
Whoa. No. Why don’t I know my name? What the hell? I feel my body begins to panic. Heat flushes through me again even though I’m not under the blankets anymore.
“Hey, hey, relax.” The man starts quickly, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He leans out of his chair a bit to put a hand on my shoulder. He does relax me a little bit though. As he sits back in his chair he says, “so, I take it that means that you don’t know who I am either?”
I don’t answer.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Well, let’s get started then.” He pauses, and thinks for a moment. “Your name is Charlie.”
He says that like he just made everything better. He didn’t. Why does he have to tell me that? Is that even my real name? Yes, I think so. It feels right. It feels good for someone to say my name. My name. That’s my name. Charlie.
“Charlie,” I say, my voice is raspy. It feels good to say. That is my name.
He’s happy to hear me speak, because a smile spreads across his face from ear to ear. I think when he stands he would be tall. He has shaggy brown hair that hangs carelessly on his head. I don’t think he cares what his hair looks like.
“My name is Cameron.” He smiles again.
I think for a second. That name means nothing to me.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice trembles. I don’t know why it trembles. I think he thinks I’m nervous or scared, but I’m not for some reason. I should be more concerned right? I’m having trouble remembering things, but for some reason it’s not really much of a burden right now. I’m just curious as to why I can’t remember anything.
“You were attacked.” He says, his voice takes on a serious tone. “You’ve just confirmed what we were hoping wasn’t true. Your memory has been wiped clean. You were also with a friend, but…” His voice peters off. “He is nowhere to be found.”
I know I should be concerned about this “friend” of mine, but I’m not. The thing that he said that sticks with me is that he just said that my “memory has been wiped clean.”
Before I can ask him what all of that means he says, “I’m sure this is all very confusing for you, so I’ll try and help you through this and explain it as best as I can.”
He pauses for a second. I nod slightly for him to continue.
“Memory wipes are weird. They are not super common. The Providence dealt with other cases similar to these but they aren’t very easy to break.”
The Providence?
He continues, “The one thing that we do know is that we have to tread lightly. These have been successfully treated before by slowly exposing the person back to their old memories and old life again. So that’s why only I’m in here right now. You have a few friends who would really like to see you, but they know it’s important that we take one step at a time. Otherwise, we could break the memory wipe completely and all of your seventeen years worth of memories would come crashing back through your mind as if your reliving them all again and you might never recover from that.” He takes a breath and his lips curl upward after he delivers the news. “So, we’ve been trying to take small steps to break the grip the memory wipe has on your brain just a little bit and then hopefully everything will flow smoothly and your memories can come back to you at your will as simple… recollections.”
I try to process everything he has just told me. I feel like a ticking time bomb, waiting to blow at any moment.
“So, Charlie.” He says slowly, finding a new pace. “Let’s get started.“
“Now?” I interrupt him. I’m tired I don’t want to do this.
“Well, yeah sorry, that’s another thing. We’re gonna have to do this soon because with memory holds your brain is adjusting to a new way of thinking. We need to try and break this while your brain is still…” He thinks of the right word. “pliable.”
I consider this for a moment. That sounded like it made sense. I nod.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to tell you a little bit about yourself. We’ll take it one thing at a time and see if we can make any progress. If you feel like you know anything or you can remember anything let me know. Maybe if you want to try and repeat some of the stuff as well that might help too.” He smiles.
I’m nervous. I’m not sure about this. I’m only sure of a few things right now. My name is Charlie. I am lying in a bed. I don’t seem to have any memories from before like ten minutes ago. And for some strange reason, I trust the man sitting in the chair next to me.
I decide to push myself into a more upright position. Physically preparing myself. My body is still tight and tense. I feel like my joints are creaking back to life and I think my brain bounces around inside my skull a bit and that makes me dizzy
“Okay, so. If you would please repeat after me. Feel free to take your time.” Cameron begins as he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out an index card. He looks down to see what must be notes written on it.
“You wrote notes?” I say. This feels like a serious time, after all I’m in what I’m assuming is the hospital and I can’t remember anything, but the note card is just so funny. I laugh. He joins in with me.
“Yes, I wrote notes!” He says a little defensively through chuckles. “That’s something you’ll learn about me. I’m a bit of a nerd sometimes.”
I chuckle again.
“Okay let’s get started.” He says again. Cameron looks down at the index card. “Now, just relax and take your time and repeat after me. My name is Charlie.”
I repeat after him, slowly. It feels odd saying my name out loud and not actually knowing if that’s what my name really is. I pause for a second. Thinking I may feel something when a thought occurs to me and I realize that I’ve been so stupid. How do I know he didn’t do this to me? Maybe he is manipulating my mind into trusting him. Maybe my memory isn’t even gone? No. It’s definitely gone, I can’t bring up any memories, my mind feels empty. He’s looking at me. Waiting, maybe hoping that it triggered something.
“How do I know you didn’t do this to me?” I blurt out. He looks taken aback, like he’s never heard something so absurd. “I mean, you could’ve wiped my memory and now you’re filling it with lies.” I can feel my voice getting a little panicky. Am I in danger?
Cameron chuckles. “Okay relax, I was gonna save this for later, but knowing you we won’t get anywhere until you see it.” He leans over onto his right side and feels into his back pocket. He pulls out a black leather wallet and opens it. He stares at it for a second and then at me, then back at the wallet. He fumbles around with it and slips something out of one of the pockets. He peeks back up at me and I watch as he folds back one end of the card that I can now see is a photo and conceals it from my view. Then with his hand carefully gripping and holding the folded part back he holds the picture up for me to see. It’s a picture of him and someone else. Two men. Cameron is younger in the photo, but not by much, maybe a few years or so. His hair is shorter, but it is still shaggy. Cameron and the man younger than him are smiling, each has an arm draped over the shoulder of the other. Cameron is smiling with his lips closed, but the young man next to him is smiling wide, he looks like he’s mid-laugh, he face expresses pure joy. I can see that Cameron is in the middle because he has his arm draped over someone else next to him, but that part is concealed by the fold in the picture. I am immediately curious about who Cameron is preventing me from seeing.
But this makes no sense, maybe it’s because my head is still fuzzy and I just can’t put these two parts together but why does this exonerate him? How should this make me feel any less vulnerable with Cameron.
“Who’s behind the fold of that picture?” I say quietly.
“Oh, that’s all in due time my friend, we need to only expose you to one person at a time right now.” He says simply.
“Why are you showing me this?”
Cameron looks at me clueless for a second. He looks like it’s so obvious and I’m just not seeing it. Maybe I’m not. Then shock comes across his face and he says, “Oh, uh… wait here one second. Don’t move.”
Cameron jumps up and runs out of the room. I wait there stupidly. Looking around the room. Everything is white. There is not much to the room. There is a door, which Cameron just ran out of. There are a few generic pictures of painted flowers framed and hung up around the room. Each of the pictures used light, pastel colors. This room makes me feel uncomfortable. It feels empty, almost blank, like my mind. There’s nothing there to give it color.
Maybe I should leave? I still don’t believe Cameron entirely. I feel like he is trustworthy, but should I take that risk? I should at least try and find out where I am. I shuffle my legs a bit. I move them to the side away from Cameron’s empty chair and put them on the ground. My feet are shocked to life as they touch the cold, tiled ground. I push myself up from the bed and immediately feel my knees begin to wobble. I start to spin a bit. Or maybe I’m just dizzy. The ground seems unsteady beneath me. I need to move quickly. I force myself to move. I make it around the end of the bed by leaning on the footboard. My legs feel weak and I’m dizzy. I take a breath before I push off of the footboard and onto my own two feet. Then Cameron comes back, looking rushed. He looks at me and his face goes limp then takes on a serious look.
“Stop.” He moves toward me calmly. He tosses something he has in his hand on to his nearby chair and grabs my arm with one hand and spins me around. My body is not ready for the quick change in movement and my legs collapse under me in a twist. Luckily, Cameron apparently also has good reflexes because he catches me by forcing his other hand underneath my armpit. I had not realized just how oddly weak my body was until now. Cameron helps me over to the bed and I sits me down on the edge.
“Do me a favor and don’t get up. God, I shouldn’t be surprised, you would do something like this. Try to escape. God.” Cameron mutters, clearly annoyed at me. He forces me back into a sitting position on the bed with my legs propped up and then grabs the item he threw on the chair just a few seconds ago. He thrusts it into my hands and says, “look.”
I look at it and see that it’s a tiny mirror with a blue rim. I look into it and even though it’s dirty and a bit smudged I can see the man from the picture. I am the guy in the picture standing next to Cameron, smiling wide with my arm thrown over him. Except, I look older in the mirror, and paler. I have a white bandage around my head. I must’ve not even felt it, but it wraps around my head diagonally and covers a portion of my forehead, that has a dark purple and yellow bruise protruding from underneath the bandage. This is me. This is who I am. I have brown hair, brown eyes. Is my skin always this pasty and colorless though? Or is that just the effects of this “attack” I was involved in. My head feels lighter than ever. I put the mirror down and lean back, putting my head against the headboard of the bed.
“Are you alright?” Cameron whispers, “Can you feel a recollection of your memory? Do you recognize yourself?”
I look at him. He looks hopeful. “No.” I say.
Any hope he held in his expressions drains from his face. “Nothing?”
“No,” I say a little more sensitively, he seems upset, more upset about this than anything that has happened so far. “Should I feel something?”
Cameron breaks his stare at me and looks down at his lap. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s just that. I asked for some help on this and…” His words are delivered almost one at a time. “I asked from the best and they say that the last, uh, sign is, uh, ‘self-recognition.’” He looks up at me as he says the last words.
I’m confused. What does he mean by “last sign?”
“Self recognition, being, you know, recognizing yourself in a mirror or a picture. And. You. Didn’t. Recognize yourself.” He talks nervously. He straightens up, and begins talking quicker now. “But, that doesn’t mean anything, c’mon let’s try the other steps. Okay, so, your name is Charlie. You are seventeen years old. You live in New York City, in the Underground Community, under the rule of the Providence. You love milk chocolate and white chocolate but not dark chocolate. The last time you and I talked you were upset with me because I asked you to leave the Underground because I thought that you would interfere with the Hunt. When you were attacked, you were walking with a friend named Benjamin Holt. You two were alone and your body was recovered just off the corner of 87th Street and York Avenue.” He looks up at me, a nervous expecting smile on his face. I’m baffled by the income of new information. I try to process it all. I know he wants me to have known some of that or to jump up exclaiming “Oh yeah, now I remember!” But I don’t. This is the first time I’m hearing all of this. I didn’t know any of that. I wonder if those memories ever actually existed. “Anything?” Cameron asks me.
“No.” I say. Is this it? It’s over? It seems like it’s over because Cameron’s face is no longer smiling.
“Okay,” Cameron says, pausing for a moment. “Well I’ll have to find some other ideas then.” Cameron begins to get up and takes a few steps away.
“Wait!” I call after him. “What does that mean? Are those the only ways of doing it? Am I gonna get my memory back or…?”
“Don’t worry about that now. Get some rest,” Cameron says.
“No, tell me.” I say. I don’t want him to go. I’m confused and he seems to be the only thing that is right in this world right now. “What’s wrong?”
Cameron looks at me for a minute and then sighs. “I asked around and… Those are the only steps they take in memory cases. They usually are supposed to do the trick. I even did them really quick and nothing happened, not even anything bad. It seems like it’s a really strong memory hold.”
“Okay.” I say not really sure what else I could possibly say to that.
“The healers in the Providence told me that there are only so many things you can do to relieve a memory hold without completely breaking it. They said that the farthest that they’ve ever gone was the self-recognition. That is the limit and even that can sometimes break memory holds.”
“So…” I say, not really knowing what he means.
“So, it looks like this might be permanent.” He delivers the news like it’s a death sentence. But it’s not. I’m not happy about it, but I wouldn’t say I’m upset about it either. Because I have no connection to those memories, and I know that I should want to regain that connection, but I just don’t really mind. What if I had a terrible life before this? It might even be a blessing to forget everything. This is all I know. So far the world just seems like someone treating me like a victim when I don’t really feel like one.
“Oh,” is the only thing I manage to get out.
Cameron moves toward me quickly. “But I promise Charlie,” he gets down to eye level with me. “I will try to find a way to help you.”
0 notes
queerherowriter-blog · 7 years ago
Text
1.01 - Before (RETIRED)
(last edited March 31, 2014)
“Well, maybe that’s just the way she is,” I say as we turn the corner. We continue down 87th street, walking towards Carl Schurz Park. We walk there because they don’t want us nearby, they think we’ll try to join in. Carl Schurz Park is the destination for the night, since we don’t have much of anything in mind. If anything we can just talk and sit on the swing set hoping for a cool breeze to come by and cool us down. Of course, we could always just use the swings for what they were meant for and hope that the constant movement and cutting through the air will keep us from sweating. But on a night like tonight, where the air is stagnant and hot, we would probably work up a heavy sweat before we actually succeeded in cooling ourselves down. Hopefully when the sun fully sets the city will cool down.
I look at Ben, waiting for a response. He’s complaining, as usual.
“I think it’s just weird. Like, just act normal.” Ben says in that tone he reserves for complaints. “She really pisses me off sometimes.”
I don’t say anything. It’s best not to fuel the fire that is Benjamin Holt’s hatred for life. I really hate the way he looks at the world sometimes. He can always find something to complain about. I’m not sure if it’s a burden or a talent, because he can almost always get me to hate the subject of his complaints as well.
We walk in silence, a comfortable silence. Maybe that’s why we hang out so much, because we are comfortable with each other. Because we get each other. We make each other laugh. I remember when he wasn’t funny. When he was just a somewhat chubby 12-year old, who was unsettlingly quiet. Then one day he cracked a joke. Of course his jokes are almost always about making fun of someone else, but they are funny.
I remember that day. The day Ben became funny. We were on the corner 86th Street and 1st Avenue. We were with the older kids and our own Childish Crew. I forget what he said or what it was about but I remember that we were waiting for the light to change on our way back home and he made a joke that was funny. I was shocked. I remember turning around and looking at him thinking, “you’re funny now?!”
The silence is becoming uncomfortable as we come to the end of the block and I can see York Avenue not so far off. I want to say something, but I don’t want to hear him complain anymore. What can I think of to change the subject? What? Sports? No, I hate them and he can’t play them. The Hunt? No, I think that’s what stemmed his complaints to begin with. Before I can think of a new subject of conversation he interrupts me.
“Do you think they would ever choose me for the Hunt?”
No. “Uh,” I think, what can I say without lying to him. We walk out onto the avenue and across the quiet street.
Ben speaks again, “I mean, I know I’m not the most athletic kid, but I think I’ve got some fight in me. I think I could make it.”
“Yeah.” I say confidently, “Maybe you do have some fight in you.”
We make it across the street and begin down another block.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” I say confused, I thought I had already presented my false opinion.
“Do you think you could make it through the Hunt?”
“Hmm,” I say quietly, buying some time to give a good answer. It’s a good question. I’ve never really thought about it before. That’s a lie. I have thought about it before. They are all pretty sure I’m gonna be picked because of my “potential,” and my “gifts.” I’ll give him the same answer he gave me. “Well, I think I ha–“
I hear a high-pitched noise whirring inside of me.
I’m sweating.
The ground is rough but cold. It feels good on my exposed skin.
There is someone standing on my head.
No. There is a car parked on my head.
A weight.
A heavy weight is sitting on my head and crushing my skull. I can feel it.
It hurts.
It’s pitch black.
No. My eyes are closed.
Tightly closed.
I reach up to push the weight off of my head, but I feel only my hair.
It’s wet.
I open my eyes.
My vision is blurry.
I see movement.
The whirring in my head quiets and is replaced by new sounds.
Screams.
Ben’s screams.
I want them to stop.
They make my body heat up uncomfortably.
They invade my mind.
My vision begins to clear.
I see a figure.
Two figures.
One standing over one on the floor.
The one on the floor is not moving.
It’s Ben.
The screaming has stopped.
I want to go to him.
I want him to be okay.
But my body lays there, motionless.
The standing figure is large.
It straightens up. It is tall and thin.
It looks around furiously.
I see hair whipping back and forth as the figure moves.
A woman.
I need to get up.
Ben is hurt.
She bends over him again.
I feel my head hang limp. I have moved my body and I am getting up.
The figure turns to me.
I cannot see her face. She is a blur of a silhouette.
She puts her hands on my face.
Her cold hands.
I see a flash of white that explodes into a mist of gold.
And I am gone.
0 notes
queerherowriter-blog · 7 years ago
Text
Queer Hero - Charlie
Hello any and all that may be reading this.
Welcome to Charlie. Charlie is an ~untitled project~ that has been rolling around in my brain for about 8 years.
This story is the result of an overactive imagination that was very often bored and lonely in the days of his high school career. Charlie’s story is one that has evolved many times over and over again.
It was a pretty classic hero journey that was inspired heavily by Harry Potter and the Hunger Games. Years later, the story has become something explicitly and unapologetically queer.
While I’m not exactly near publication, I figured I could start posting work here for the general public to check out and follow my progress and the story’s progress.
I will post old (and probably very bad) writing. But most importantly I will post NEW writing. This blog is for me to kick this into gear. I need to start writing shit down with a forum of people to read and critique. I want to know what the people think!
Follow me and Charlie’s story to publication.
0 notes