Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded
BLINK
Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded Edition
Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Royer
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Blink,
3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546
ePub Edition © February 2016: ISBN 978-0-310-75183-0
Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book
are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement
by the publisher, nor does the publisher vouch for the content of these sites and
numbers for the life of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents
are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy,
recording, or any otherâexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the
prior permission of the publisher.
BLINK⢠is a registered trademark of the Zondervan Corporation.
Cover design: Cindy Davis
Cover photography: Shutterstock
Interior design: Kait Lamphere
16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 /DCI/ 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5
4 3 2 1
Contents
I'd like to thank everyone who has been with me through the writing of this book.
Without your support, comments, and messages, I would not have made it this far.
I love you all.
W
hen I was younger, I loved when it rained. I liked running outside and jumping
in the puddles and splashing through the streets. If there was thunder and lightning,
I would perch my five-year-old self onto the windowsill, face pressed against the
glass, to look outside. I'd count the seconds between each boom and flash to see
how far away the storm was.
Every other little kid at school would scribble smiling suns or clear blue skies,
but when I drew pictures, I would always draw rain.
My mum questioned me every time I brought home drawings. I'd happily show her my
art, proud of what I'd done. I didn't get why she constantly told me to draw sunshine.
I liked the rain. I thought everybody liked the rain. I continued to draw storms,
as backgrounds for smiling people holding balloons or maybe a picture of a dog.
I wanted them to be happy like me, and rain made me happy.
I never really understood why I was so fascinated by it, I just
was
. My favorite
part was looking for a rainbow afterward. I always wanted to find the end, but I
obviously never did. But to young Levi, the end of the rainbow seemed close, like
I could run out and catch it, like it was part of some scavenger hunt. The older
I got, the sooner I'd end my search. Until one day, I just gave up and stopped trying,
knowing I would never find the end.
That's the situation I'm in right now. I'm seventeen years old, no longer a young
kid dreaming about where a rainbow could lead. I watch the rain from inside, but
that's about it.
Most guys my age are out with girls or playing sports or doing who knows what. Not
me. For the past few months, I've been trapped inside my body and mind, stuck in
an inescapable void I created myself. I have no hopes of leaving, though attempts
are always made. With each step away from the emptiness inside me, I'm pulled two
steps back. There's no escape from myself or my thoughts.
I haven't seen the rainbow at the end of the storm in a long time. I'm beginning
to wonder if there ever really was one.
L
evi, come out! We have to talk about this!” my mum says from outside my room. I'm
sitting on the cold wood floor, my knees hugged to my chest as I lean on the door.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, the harsh pain sinking in quickly. I bite deeper
until the only thing I feel is the slight vibrations beneath my teeth.
“Please, just let me in,” she begs. “This hurts me as much as it hurts you.”
I take a deep breath and slowly stand, my hand wavering above the knob for a few
seconds before I twist the lock. I walk over to my bed and wait for my mum to walk
in, and when she does, she looks tired and upset. Her eyes appear heavy and her lips
are turned into a frown. All of this seems to have aged her twenty years. She looks
at me, and I look at her, neither of us saying anything. But she expects that from
me.
“I don't want to do this to you, Levi. But it's the only choice we have left,” she
says, sitting down beside me. I don't look at her. I nervously crack my knuckles.
She sighs. “Your flight leaves in two days. I wish I could come, but I can't.” I
stare blankly ahead. “This is what's best for us, for you. Your father and I”âshe
pauses, her voice crackingâ“we just want you to be happy again.”
And with that, I leave my room and run down the stairs and out the front door. I
slam it behind me, and the cold rain instantly
pelts my skin once I'm outside, but
I don't care. I continue walking down the dark street. The street lights are the
only source of any brightness. I kick a pebble that's in front of me and hear it
splash into a puddle.
I hate this.
How could my parents do this to me? They want me to move from Australia to go live
with my dad in Maine. Moving all the way to America to live with Dad doesn't seem
like the solution to my many problems. I barely know him, and I'm entirely sure he
doesn't know anything about me. I haven't seen him for three years. All I've gotten
are some cards and presents on holidays.
He moved when I was fourteen years old. At the time, everything was perfect. Perfect
family, perfect friends, perfect life. All I did was go to school, eat, sleep, and
play video games. What could have been better? I wish I could go back to when everything
was simple.
Nothing has been simple for a while.
My mum told me I'm leaving for many reasons. One being that I need a break from all
the things I'm too familiar with. She also thinks I need new experiences. It all
comes down to the fact I can't be around things that make me remember Delia. Mum
wants me to forget, everyone wants me to forget. But how can I forget everything
about the one person I really cared for? It's not like I can just remove her from
my brain and everything will magically be okay.
I'll have to meet new people who know nothing about me. That could be a good thing,
but it could also be a bad thing. Not to mention the new therapists and doctors who
will have to learn everything about me. I don't want to go through that process
again. All of the questions and answers, forms and testsâI hate it. I was finally
comfortable with all of my doctors, and now I'll have to start all over.
I pull my hood over my head and stuff my hands far into my pockets as I continue
to think. I sigh heavily, wishing that things were different. Somehow, someway, I
want things back to how they once were. How did life get to be this terrible?
“Splendiferous,” I say, the word rolling off my tongue. “Today is going to be splendiferous.”
“You're splendiferous,” Delia says, smiling. I look over at her and see her dimpled
cheeks as she smiles. She bites her tongue a little; she always does when she smiles
widely.
I blink quickly and rub my eyes furiously, trying to make the flashback stop. It's
all so vivid in my mind, like it happened yesterday.
But it didn't. It happened six months ago. One hundred eighty-two days, to be exact.
It was the last time I saw her smile like that.
Every single day, I wish I didn't wake up. I wish things were different. I wish she
was here with me, but she's not.
I sit on the curb, suddenly overcome with dizziness. This always happens when I think
too much, usually about the incident. And I think about it a lot. The quietest people
have the loudest minds, and mine is screaming for help, but my lips don't move.
I shake my head and place it in my hands, feeling the rain pound down on me. I stick
my hand out and catch some falling water, watching it trickle through the small cracks
between my fingers. I open up my cupped hand and watch the water drop to the ground,
splashing once it hits the pavement. It's like feeling on top of the world, where
nothing can touch you, but suddenly the world opens up beneath you and you fall quickly.
Everything changes. You're suddenly at the bottom, watching everyone live life above
you while you're stuck in a puddle.
That's what I feel like.
I wonder what it's like to not feel the rain on your skin or to not hear the sound
of it falling. I wonder what it's like to take your final breath. I wonder about
a lot of things.
Most of my time is spent wondering.
A car drives by, slowing to a stop in front of me. The lights blind me for a second,
but I quickly adjust to the brightness and figure out who it is. The familiar chipped
navy paint and the dent that looks like a ghost make the vehicle immediately recognizable.
“Get in the car,” Caleb says once he rolls down the window. He always seems to know
whenever I run out of the house or get into any sort of trouble. And he's always
the one to come get me.
I roll my eyes and get inside, turning off the radio. As usual, Caleb has his music
playing loudly. It annoys me how he can enjoy something so much.
I don't really like Caleb most of the time because he reminds me of things I don't
want to remember, but he tolerates me, so I tolerate him. He seems to be the only
one who can.
He looks over at me and sighs. “Had a fight with your mum again?”
I nod, not looking up at him.
“Did she tell you about moving?” he asks. I look up at him, confused. How did he
find out before me? “She wanted to know what I thought about it all,” he says. He
always knows what I'm thinking, and I don't really understand how he does.