He just wouldn't quit with his irritating persistence. Well, at least he was showing some restraint, refraining from any physical outbursts. Come on, could he please just leave already? I was pointedly ignoring him at this point.
Suddenly, he got up and stormed out of the room, leaving space for my mother and brother to enter.
My mother's face was etched with intense stress as she locked eyes with me, her concern palpable.
She asked, "What did he want from you? He didn't say anything or do something bad to you, did he?"
I couldn't help but feel a tinge of satisfaction. He may be a persistent detective, but I knew he was powerless here; he needed me.
With a casual tone, I replied, "Nothing happened, Mom. He just kept asking about what happened at that dorm. I told him I've got no memories to answer him."
My brother chimed in with a smirk, "Get ready, he's going to annoy the hell out of you in the coming days."
My mother shot a stern look at my brother before turning to me with a gentle expression. She spoke softly, "I'm sure you've heard from the doctor. You can go home now. Your brother and I will pack your things and head home around noon, alright dear? Here are some new clothes for you to wear."
It was a relief that they didn't waste any time. They began packing my clothes and medication. I struggled to stand, my legs weakened from a month of inactivity.
My brother came to my aid, helping me put on my clothes. There wasn't much, considering it was autumn. I couldn't help but feel a growing dislike for this season.
We left the hospital, a bustling place despite its size. Our destination was a nearby park, and my brother guided me toward an aging white truck.
This truck had seats only in the front, with an open bed at the back for carrying luggage and assorted items, like boxes. The truck had clearly seen its fair share of days.
He confidently took the driver's seat, with my mother beside him and me in the middle.
A sense of surprise overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but ask, "You're going to drive?"
He cast an annoyed glance my way and retorted, "Well, who else is going to drive? You? Mom doesn't drive, and I've gotten used to it."
I couldn't resist a teasing tone, "Even so, you're underage, right? You don't even have a license!"
He waved my concerns away, saying, "Ah, come on, cut me some slack."
As the engine roared to life, he guided the truck onto the road, and our journey began.
The landscape outside transformed gradually, revealing stark differences between the areas we traversed.
We transitioned from pristine streets lined with well-kept houses to worn-down roads, marked by deep potholes and the remnants of a recent downpour.
The shift in scenery mirrored the changes in my life, from the unfamiliar surroundings of the hospital to the mysterious reality awaiting me at home.
As we continued down the road, a sense of isolation crept in. Amidst the sea of trees, an isolated house emerged, encircled by a sturdy iron fence, resembling more of a farmhouse than a typical residence.
I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Is that where we live now?" My voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of uncertainty.
My mother's voice carried a tinge of sadness as she replied, "Yes, that's our home, our farm. You can't remember any of it? The countless hours we spent nurturing it together?"
I felt a pang of guilt and said, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll try my hardest to bring those memories back."
As we pulled up and stepped out of the truck, I couldn't help but notice the house. It wasn't much, just two stories tall, and it showed its age, every crease and crack on full display.
Yet, the farm surrounding it was a different story; it pulsed with vibrant life, a lush tapestry of plants and trees that seemed to thrive despite the house's weathered appearance.
They beckoned me to come inside, and as I entered the house, a wave of déjà vu washed over me. It was as if I'd been here before, the scenes feeling strangely familiar.
We made our way to a spacious room adorned with three elegant sofas and an old but charming table. We settled in, taking our seats.
Their expectant gazes were almost demanding something of me. It was clear that they wanted me to remember, but I felt like I was grasping at straws.
My brother, trying to ease the tension, spoke up, "Don't stress yourself too much. It's alright if you can't remember. By the way, I understand you might not even recall my name. It's Benjamin, so just call me Ben."
Before I could respond, there was an abrupt, heavy knocking on the door. My mother hurried to see who it was, and then, without warning, the figure burst into the room where I sat.
A young woman with a mix of brown and yellow braided hair, her eyes shining like emeralds, and a distinctive smile etched onto her face, burst into the room.
She exclaimed, "Oh, thank goodness you're awake now!"
My brother retorted, his eyes locked onto her. "Don't play around like that, you mischievous girl. Just so you know, he's got a blank slate up there, not even a trace of you left."
Her expression shifted from excitement to disappointment, and she asked, "Seriously? You don't remember me, not even a bit?"
She let out a sigh, frustration evident in her voice as she added, "I'm Teresa, remember? We used to play together as kids, went to school together, and I've been your annoying neighbor forever. Not even a faint memory of all that?"
With a hint of frustration in my voice, I replied, "I'm truly sorry, but I can't recall any of that. But give it some time, and who knows, maybe those memories will come flooding back."
With her sparkling eyes and an amused smile, she remarked, "Whoa! You don't have to… just don't stress yourself out over it. You're the one going through the tough time here. And I'm just going to keep annoying you until those memories start rushing back!"
A smile spread across my face. It was comforting to know that someone had a positive outlook.
Suddenly, my mother and brother stepped out of the room. I quickly asked, "Where are you going?"
My brother chimed in, pointing his finger at Teresa. He said, "If she starts talking, she won't stop, believe me. So, have a good chat with her!"
I didn't know how to respond to that. She looked at me with excitement and said, "You know, I've always wanted to go to university, just like you, and live in a dorm too!"
I replied, puzzled, "Then why didn't you?"
With a sad smile, she explained, "I'm an only child, and I can't leave my old, sick parents alone like that. Someone has to take care of them."
With a melancholic expression, Teresa continued, "You see, it's not always about what we want. Responsibility often takes precedence over personal dreams. So, I chose to stay behind and support my parents through their difficulties, even if it meant giving up my dreams of going to university and experiencing dorm life."
The mood grew somber, and suddenly, Teresa spoke with an unusual tone. "I heard about that dorm and what happened to you. Do you have any idea what's become of it? Or what they've uncovered?"