Liam Carter's POV
Watching my father pace in front of me made me feel lightheaded. Sitting here and mulling things over wouldn't bring any clarity. Doctor Solomon's words still swirled in my mind, leaving us unsettled and unsure of what to believe.
"No, I won't allow them to experiment with his mind," Dad exclaimed, coming to a halt. I bit my lip, my thoughts in disarray.
Lucas, he has no idea how much he means to me, even before all these terrible things happened to him. How was he before all of this? Did he change? Not really. And I wouldn't want him to, honestly.
"Dad, do you think it's better this way?" I inquired. Finally, Dad gathered the courage to sit down.
"I don't know."
"We still have a choice, Dad," I asserted, looking into his weary eyes. "We have to trust Doctor Solomon and-"
"NO!" he interrupted, rising to his feet once more. "It's not safe! He may not recover there, or worse, never recover at all!"
"What other choice do we have, Dad? He's experiencing hallucinations, and we want him to get better."
"IT'S TOO RISKY!"
"Then we have to take that risk!" I snapped. I couldn't help it.
In this situation, there is no perfect answer. But we're left with no choice but to place our trust in my brother and hold onto the hope that he will overcome everything.
I averted my gaze as his phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket and retrieved it.
"Hello," he answered the call, trying to sound composed. I leaned against the backrest of the couch I was sitting on. "Okay, okay." Then he ended the call.
"Who was that?" I asked, trying to calm myself. For a brief moment, I shifted my thoughts away from the current situation.
He let out a sigh, a sense of solemnity visible in his skeptical gaze.
"The police want to discuss the case with us tomorrow."
We don't live in a time of hopelessness, or so I want to believe. We exist in an era of choices, where our actions carry consequences, which can be a burden for us. The road ahead may not be easy, but we're not too far from our destination. All I know is that nothing is worse than leading a life consumed by despair.
Lucas is like a candle that, after illuminating the darkness, begins to melt. Each sky was gradually losing its vibrant blue hue.
...
Lucas Carter's POV
"Brother, brother?"
Every day seems to blend together. Sometimes I wish I could hit the pause button and take a break. The more I try to function, the more I feel like I'm squeezing blood from a stone.
I often wonder if there's really something wrong or if everything is wrong and I just have to accept it. When a device's storage is full, you might contemplate deleting everything, starting fresh, and organizing your data more efficiently than before.
But this is the part where I must face the truth: you can't escape your past. Yet, every day I find myself running away from it, over and over again.
"What are you doing here?" I mumbled, removing the blanket and running my fingers through my unkempt hair. The chirping of birds outside filled the air, and the curtains swayed gently in the breeze that seeped through the window.
"You were having a nightmare again, so I thought I should wake you up," my brother said. I turned my gaze towards him, trying to focus my thoughts.
"Nightmare?" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows. He nodded, his expression composed.
"I think so. You were murmuring things in your sleep." I let out a half-hearted laugh, shaking my head as I shifted my gaze away from him. "Brother, are you still angry with us?" he asked, almost unconsciously.
My lips parted, and I released a heavy sigh. I couldn't help but think about what had transpired. I felt guilty for losing my temper. Raising my voice at them was never my intention, but everything had become so tangled.
"I was just upset. I can never be truly angry with you," I admitted. "I know you have doubts about my condition, but no matter what happens, never doubt that I love you," I added, causing a wide grin to spread across his face. I'm not sure if those words were spoken from the heart, but I sense a connection between us that surpasses both blood and memory.
"Same here. Thank you," he responded, his eyes filled with genuine happiness. "By the way, we're going out." I narrowed my eyes.
"Where are we going?"
"We're going to the police."
A pang of fear surged through me, though I couldn't pinpoint its source.
I didn't ask any further questions; I simply followed along. The atmosphere between me and Dad was tense, the words we exchanged still lingering.
As we arrived at the police station, an unexplained unease settled within me. I wasn't sure exactly what I was afraid of, but it was there, lingering in the background.
Was the suspect about to be revealed? I still despised Eliza. She hadn't earned my forgiveness, and I couldn't see how she ever would, as the pain she inflicted upon me lingers throughout my life.
"Please have a seat," the police officer directed us.
We all settled into the monoblock chairs across from him. I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling a tremor of nerves.
"I'll be honest with you, working on this case and gathering evidence hasn't been easy," the officer began. I watched as my brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed.
"Are you even making any progress? It's been a month, what kind of investigation are you conducting?" he scoffed.
I lowered my head, realizing that this was exactly why I wanted to regain my memories. I alone could provide answers to what happened that day. Unfortunately, my mind refused to cooperate.
"We assure you, we won't give up. But for now, the best course of action is to be patient and wait for Lucas to-"
"Be patient?!" my brother interjected, glancing away in frustration. "The way you act as if you're relying on my brother, the victim, rather than the police, shows how ignorant and careless you all are."
I swallowed hard. I understood his anger and frustration. I knew how badly he wanted to bring justice for her mother. It pained me to witness his suffering, and what hurt even more was my inability to do anything about it...
Or is there more to it?
I know the pain of losing a mother. Eliza may not have been directly responsible for my mother's death, but she played a significant role. Eliza's suspected killer still roams free, living his life as if he never took a life, no bars to confine him, no chains to restrain him.
I closed my eyes as a sudden tightness gripped my head.
"You are stupid!"
"P-Please, I-I didn't mean to... I-"
"You are dead..."
"N-No, please... n-no!"
"Lucas, Lucas, are you alright?"
I lifted my head slightly, met by the concerned gazes of Dad, my brother, and the police officer.
...