Rowan's POV:

Light.

It was the last thing I'd seen before my world became shadowed in darkness.

It hadn't taken long to find out that the torturous fog left in its wake, an obstacle to my clarity, would forever torment me despite my desperation for it to disappear. A truth that had been especially hard to swallow since my life hadn't always been this way.

...since I once believed I'd get better.

Only now, it seemed as if an eternity had passed since the times when I didn't have to spend exhausting nights racking my brain for every intricate detail of the day. Those days were long gone. Replaced by hours spent of obsessing over the "little things" more than the next person ever would.

To this day, my biggest fear was that this reality would forever hold me captive to a torment I just wanted to be free of.

"Rowan, are you awake?"

A dozen strands of coiled hair blurred my vision as I lifted my chin, my hand stilling as the melodic voice drifted from down the hall. Tucking a curl behind my ear, I glanced toward my bedroom door, listening for the pitter-patter of nearing footsteps before casting a longing glance toward the object of my previous intent.

Guess my plans were going to have to wait.

"Yeah. I'm awake," I called, wincing at the gravel-like tone of my voice, and clearing my throat to expel the grogginess from it.

Mornings would never be my thing. I was jealous of anyone who could wake up early and still have an appreciation for the world. To me, mornings and a good mood went together just like pineapple and pizza did. Or mustard on anything.

Exactly.

They didn't go together at all.

I waited for a moment more, reasoning that my reply had been silently acknowledged before reaching toward my nightstand. I bit my lip as I balanced on the edge of my bed, smiling in triumph when my fingers grasped the edge of my conquest. I placed my acquired treasure in my lap, running a hand over the faded leather cover staring up at me and tracing its worn edges in preparation for opening the bundle of secrets.

The little book was a part of me.

The only thing that allowed me to live a semi-normal life. If I ever forgot to write down something that had happened on a particular day, then there was a chance I would never remember the moment.

But even so, I still considered myself lucky. Some had it worse.

Some were forced to remember everything.

At times that could be just as bad as being burdened to forget.

My eager fingers had just slipped within the pages of my journal, gluttonous to crack open the book's contents when a knock on my door caused me to pause. It opened a second later, revealing a figure that crowded the doorway. She stopped amidst the rays of light that shone through my window, the whisper of the sun brightening her eyes to a honeyed hue and painting her skin golden.

Perhaps if I hadn't known her so well, I wouldn't have detected the sliver of exhaustion that ran across her face before succumbing to a feigned clarity. But I did, just like I noticed the way my mom smiled way too quickly after eyeing my journal. It was an expression I was all too familiar with. The one she wore whenever she had something to say but thought better of it.

"I'm going to head over to the store to pick up a few things. Do you need anything?" She asked after a moment, her eyes meeting mine warmly.

My eyebrows lowered as I dissected her words. She'd worked the night shift yesterday. When she did, I usually would be the one to pick up the slack around the house. It didn't take long for me to put two and two together quickly, my chest tightening as my brain worked.

Crap.

There was yet another thing I had forgotten.

I pinched the bridge of my nose casting her an apologetic frown as self-disappointment seeped in. "I was supposed to go get something from the store for you, wasn't I?"

Despite the truth I knew was in my words, she just shrugged, waving me off with a smile. It wasn't that easy for me to brush off though.

"Yes, but that's okay."

Guilt stored within my stomach, as I sighed in admonishment. "I'm sorry. I don't even remember what it was I was supposed to get." I glanced across my room, my eyes lingering on a yellow sticky note taped to my vanity mirror. I read the list of food items written in sharpie, a frown playing on my lips.

Crap.

So I had written a reminder.

Despite my disappointment, my mom's smile only grew as she took a step forward, tucking a loose curl away and allowing me to get a better look at her. The thick hair that usually haloed around her hair in a mess of wild but beautiful curls, was pulled into a low bun, and although her eyes were tired they were mesmerizing nonetheless. While she had technically aged out of her youth, it was clear that time had taken no toll.

"That's okay. I don't mind going, they are just some items for dinner. It will be good for me to go get them since I need a bit of fresh air anyway."

I searched her eyes, looking for a sign that she was making an excuse for my sake.

"Are you sure? I know that you have to get to work." I offered. "I don't mind going."

I was slightly curious as to why she hadn't left already since she usually was gone by now.

"I requested the night shift again today, so it's no problem for me. But that does means that I will be home late today."

I made a mental reminder to remember that.

I nodded once before speaking. "Okay, I'm just going to read through this, and then get ready for my classes," I told her, pointing to the frayed journal.

"I will leave you to it then." She pushed off of the door frame, walking away with one last wave. "Don't wait up, tonight." I had just picked up my notebook again when she reappeared at my door, her eyebrows raised in remembrance. "I almost forgot to ask, but is there anything you want to talk about?"

I shook my head slowly, trying to remember if there had been something I needed to tell her. Nothing came to mind...except...no. It probably wasn't that. I mean I'd been very discreet about all the apartment hunting I had been doing lately.

And besides, I wasn't ready to talk to her about it just yet.

I blinked. "I don't think so. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

Despite my reply, she watched me for a second longer, her eyes giving me a chance to refute my claim. When I didn't she just nodded.

"No, but okay, then. I've got to run."

After lingering a moment more she was gone, her shoes clapping gently on the floor as she rushed down the hallway. I continued to watch the empty doorway even when she was long gone, feeling slightly guilty for the partial lie I'd just told.

I knew I needed to talk to her soon.

But how did you tell the person that has taken care of you throughout years of treatment and tests that you wanted to move out?

Even though I was sure she would understand since she did her best to give me plenty of freedom, deep down I knew it would cause her to worry more. After all, it wasn't every day that your child was diagnosed with irreversible amnesia, leaving them vulnerable to well...practically everything.

After the calamity, the doctors had initially believed my inability to remember the crash to be the worst of my injuries, linking it to the trauma I'd endured. I wasn't able to recall the fatal night for the next three weeks that followed and during those twenty-one days of uncertainty, I had no other symptoms.

It wasn't long before we all found out that this was just a hidden misfortune. What the doctors had hastily brushed off as a short-term affliction would become so much bigger than that. A truth I'd faced on the morning of my ninth birthday. A day where I woke up with absolutely nothing, not terrified of my memories, but my lack thereof.

A problem that has remained unfixed up to now.

It just so happened that if there was a possibility for something to be forgotten, then I would forget it. The joyful moments. The new beginnings. Even the 'unforgettable' benchmarks of life.

A breathing and walking paradox.

No words could describe me better.

The things they couldn't forget plagued most people; the things I couldn't remember plagued me. A torment caused by the countless precious moments that were stolen from me, with no explanation.

Each morning upon awakening, I was condemned with the heaviness of my unknowing...a weight that left me desperate. And desolate...as if someone had leafed through my book of memories, ripping out pages sporadically and leaving the plotlines of my days filled with endless holes.

And did I get any say in the matter?

No.

I couldn't just pick and choose. That luxury hadn't been bestowed upon me.

This is what sourced my anguish.

My grief came in knowing there were times when I didn't wake up smiling from the previous day's events because I wasn't even sure what had happened. My agony came in knowing that there were mornings when I was supposed to jump out of bed in anticipation of pre-made plans, yet couldn't remember them.

But I suppose like all ill-fated tales, there was a silver lining.

Despite what the doctors hadn't foretold there were some things I was able to remember, as time passed. Such as certain people that were continuous fixtures in my life, like my mom and my closest friends. But the faces of new people, along with the little spontaneous moments of my day, were lost to me each time sleep seduced me in its arms.

I knew it would have been a lie to say that it wasn't just as hard for my mom to accept this as it had been for me.

I sighed, picking at the hem of my shorts. It was not going to be an easy conversation but I needed to have it soon. Yawning, I glanced at the time with an internal groan before prying open the grey leather bound in my hands. If I didn't hurry I was going to be late.

I took a breath, sparing a glance at the journal I had yet to read.

Here went nothing.

I held my breaths my eyes swept the pages, my body tingling with the slight thrill I always got during moments like these.

Moments of anticipation.

Moments of fear.

Five minutes passed, and then ten, as my heartbeat ramped its course and my eyes flew. With each sentence, I was held more and more captive by the nerves that seized my air. There was no telling what I would discover. Not even the routine of it all could prepare me for the surprises that lurked at the turn of each page.

I'd been so focused that I nearly leaped out of my asking when the jarring tone of my cell phone blared from an unknown location in my room. Startled, I jerked upright, listening for a moment before ruffling through the sheets of my bedspread, finding the culprit a second later. I answered the call in a rush forgetting to glance at the caller ID, as I wondered how my phone had gotten over there.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Chica!"

A wide smile broke across my face at the sound of the cheery voice blaring through the speaker and I laughed.

"Hey, Sky. What's up?"

"Well, I am. No pun intended," she sang.

I shook my head with a grin. Even though she wasn't currently there with me, I could practically see the expressive smile she always harbored, eyes alight, and her cheeks dimpled with tiny crescents.

"But on a more serious note, I just wanted to let you know that I won't need a ride today. Hayden said that he would give me one again."

My eyebrows rose on hearing that, and I couldn't contain my grin.

Again?

While she probably thought they were careless gestures by the love-stricken man, I knew the opposite was true. She was just too oblivious to see it.

"That probably works better anyway. I kind of slept in and am just now getting up," I said, putting the phone on speaker and setting it down. Another yawn arose through me, as I rubbed my eyes. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

Big surprise there.

"You and me both. My sleep schedule has been off the wall since the semester started." She paused. "But okay. Do you want us to drop by your place and pick you up too?"

I shook my head. While a ride would have been great, I wasn't sure that I'd be ready by the time they got here.

"No, you guys go ahead. If I don't make it in time for my first class, I don't want to cause you guys to be late too. Besides, I have to catch up on everything." I ran my hand over the book in my lap that was waiting so patiently to be opened.

Skylar said nothing at first, but when she hummed I knew she had picked up on what I was referring to.

"I get it. There is no rush. Same place same time?"

I laughed lightly. Each day she reminded me to meet up with her and Hayden after our first classes at the center of the university plaza as if we didn't meet up there every day. I guess old habits were hard to break, considering there was a point in time when she had to remind me.

"You know it. Say hi to Hayden for me."

I lifted my arms, my shirt riding up slightly as I stretched, my muscles expelling the tension that last night's sleep had woven into them. After tugging the old t-shirt down, I paused noticing that there was now only one sock on my feet when there had previously been two. I looked around finding its mate on the floor near the foot of my bed.

"I will! See you later," she chirped, as I raised to my knees, grabbing the displaced sock.

"See you." I hung up and picked up my journal, reading from where I left off.

And remember to tell Skylar no, the next time she wants to go to a party...

I propped my chin on my hand, cringing as I relived the embarrassing night I was thankful that I didn't remember. Parties would never be my thing, and apparently never would tequila either.

I needed to stop letting Skylar talk me into going to them.

After reading and not finding anything particularly noteworthy, I stood, heading toward my bathroom. Any hopes of a successful morning were squashed, however, when my toe collided with the corner of my dresser. I grimaced, curling my toes, as the pain radiated up my foot, holding back the string of choice words that threatened to pour out of my mouth.

What a great morning it was turning out to be. Thank goodness it was Friday.

When the throbbing had died down into a dull ache, I made it the rest of the way to my bathroom only limping slightly. A laugh escaped my lips when the pain had died down to nothingness and I turned on the light, glancing in the mirror. The dark hair that spilled out of my ponytail, was frizzy and unruly, while my grey eyes were dull and tired like usual.

Goodness, gracious. I was a sight.

"You look, beautiful, honey."

My words landed aimlessly, dissipating in the air as my reflection remained unchanged. While I loved my mass of curls, it was in moments like these that I wondered what it would be like to have effortlessly manageable. The kind that only needed a brush and a few haphazard flips over the shoulder to look styled.

For me, a transformation that quick would be nothing short of a miracle. Moving with haste, I got ready as quickly as I could, fixing my curls around my head into a mass that managed to look at least semi-presentable, before throwing on a pair of jeans, a black sweatshirt, and the white sneakers that somehow remained untouched by dirt.

After grabbing my keys and my phone, I exited my room, purposefully diverting my gaze from the pictures that were strewn across the walls. All were just reminders of what I'd lost.

In a weird way, I think I would have preferred if each morning my memory was completely wiped clean. The way I saw it, being left with only part of the whole, was infinitely worse than being left with nothing.

It was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle, only to realize that the last piece was missing. Or like living life out on a ventilator, only for someone to keep shutting it off without warning.

Leaving me struggling for air

...struggling to regain the part of me that had been wiped from existence.

After reaching the kitchen and settling for a quick breakfast of toast and honey, I sat in front of my open computer, which I had clumsily left on the counter the night before. I shifted through the multiple tabs of affordable apartments, before shutting the lid.

I probably shouldn't have left my computer open, let alone in the kitchen knowing that I hadn't been preparing to tell my mom about my search anytime soon. Since there were times that she used it considering that her computer was slower than a sloth, I had a feeling that she now knew.

Thinking of ways to approach the subject with her, I shouldered my bag heading toward the door in hopes of staying on time. A cool breeze wrapped around me when I stepped onto my porch, leaving goosebumps on my arms and teasing my hair as I walked. I inhaled as the wind rippled through my clothes, kissing my skin in wake of the sun's warmth and wishing away my worry about future discussions.

Oregon weather might have been a contradiction of its own, but I loved it nonetheless.

I got on the road quickly, not having made it ten minutes down the street when unease curled in my stomach. Without taking my eyes off the cars in front of me, I held my breath, mumbling in irritation as I rummaged through my bag. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, my body relaxing when my fingers brushed against sturdy material a second later, the rough texture putting me back at ease.

I shook my head, clenching my fingers before returning my hand to the steering wheel, and my heartbeat returned to its regular rhythm. That could have been a disaster. Just like the last time I had made the thirty-minute trek to campus only to realize that I had forgotten to bring my journal with me.

That had been a day.

I'd spent the day anxiously hoping that I would remember everything without writing in it. Of course, my hopes had been in vain, the following day in tatters and holes encompassing the space where memories should have been.

To this day, no matter how strong the nagging persistence of my forgetfulness was, I still didn't remember what they were.

Anyone who would call that a blessing was ignorant of my pain.