Bad Memories

Have you ever experienced something you wish you could forget?  

I feel that at some point we all wish we could make the rough patches of life fade away.  I wrote this after considering this idea, "what if we could make ourselves forget?"  Timothy had a rough day and these events lead him to accept the almost too good to be true offer that would allow him to use these bad memories to catch those responsible for causing them and as payment, allow the memories to be suppressed.  Unfortunately (and of course) there would be repercussions to recalling and eventually suppressing them, especially when we accept that even the bad things that happen make up the tapestry of our lives.

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                  Timothy Jackman had a rough day, but at least it was over.  He could feel the stress leaving his body as the shower’s warm deluge beat on the back of his head; the water continuing to flow down the length of his tall and wiry body.  Timothy (or Tim as he preferred to be called) did his best not to think about the day’s events and to just enjoy his well-deserved silence.   Timothy knew he wouldn’t be interrupted because he lived alone with no pets or roommates and had made sure to turn off his cell before entering the bathroom. 

He thought about what he would do for the rest of the evening.  I don’t want to go out Timothy thought.  Maybe I will order a pizza and watch a movie.

A lackluster smile creeped onto Timothy’s face.  His constant companions, his collection of western movies and stacks of fiction novels, worried what few friends he had.  They feared that he was shutting the real world away and living though his “stories.”  They just didn’t get how no matter what stories would be forever.   No one can steal them from me.  They won’t leave me like my ex-wife.  They won’t die like my parents.  They won’t hurt me like old friends have.  They will be with me until I die.

What today proved is that friends can be taken away so easily.

“No, I won’t think about this.  Get it together Tim.  There was nothing I could do.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and placed his forehead against the shower glass.  He focused on his breathing, willing his breaths to come evenly and steadily.  Eventually his heart stopped racing and he stood there listening to the shower and his breathing.

                  After a brief time, even the sound of the running water faded into the back of Timothy’s mind so that there was only silence.  The silence was glorious… for about twenty seconds. 

Maybe it was the warmth of the water or the steam rising around him but the image of Jenny dying from the bullet wound to her chest flashed through his head. 

He could once again feel her warm blood on his hands, soaking into his skin, and pooling around his feet as he held her close. 

The next moment he was back in the shower; the glass and tile spinning as he fell to his knees.   Timothy’s body convulsed and he was barely able to get himself curled into a fetal position. 

The images began to flash though his mind, quicker and quicker.

The gun.  A handgun.  It barked when it fired like Mrs. Fields dog Dickens.  It was black like Dickens too.

The smell of urine from somewhere smacking Timothy in the face as the men entered the bank, screaming.

The noise!  Screaming and crying.  The mother that was in front of Tim in line curling her body over her infant as the baby wailed at the sudden noises.

Penny’s taser.  The one that saved her from that mugging last year.  She just wasn’t quick enough.

The smiles of the intruders.  The absolute glee they showed in their beaming smiles as they shot the two guards at the bank’s entrance.  The giddy grin of the man that shot Penny.

The boot.  I only caught a glimpse at it from the corner of my eye as it traveled into my head.

Timothy was crying on the floor of his shower.  The memories flooding over him like the water from his shower head.  His mind was shutting itself down, trying in vain to put a stop to the flood.   Finally, darkness crept into his vision and as the sweat release of unconsciousness closed around him he cried out, “God please take these memories away!”  Then there was blackness… and peace.