Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You

December 3, 2009

Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You
(second WitFit entry)

“Where the hell am I?” I ask myself. Not that I really expect an answer, but I figure it can’t hurt to ask.

Jiminy Crickets. Looking around the room I’m lying in, I can’t help but notice the deep, rich mahogany of the wood furniture, or the majestic four poster bed I just woke up in. Whoa. There are even satin sheets. Not just any satin sheets either, they are definitely ivory satin sheets. Something like a memory twitches inside my mind, but I’m not connecting any dots. Are ivory satin sheets supposed to mean something to me? If they are, they sure don’t mean anything to me now. Heh. That almost sounds like irony to me.

I start to get up, and then immediately crumple back down onto the bed. Ouch. My head feels like someone took a jackhammer to it. Maybe I have a hangover? I don’t remember drinking last night, but then again, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t really remember anything. That’s weird. Who am I? Across the room, there’s a mirror. I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me, or the gorgeous dress she’s wearing. Wait a minute, that’s supposed to be me! Quickly jerking my head around, I look behind me. There’s nobody there. That is definitely me in the mirror. Weird. Do I normally wear white dresses?

This is really starting to bother me. I mean, people don’t just forget who they are, where they are, or what they were doing. “HELP!” I scream, “Someone, please help me!” This isn’t looking so good. I’m not hearing any responses. No footsteps getting closer, no pounding on my door, and no reassuring voices. I think I like reassuring voices, especially over the paranoid ones that are starting to sound off inside my head. I need to get out this room. There have to be clues as to who I am somewhere.

As I reach out to grasp the doorknob, I notice there’s an envelope in my hand. This might be a clue! I excitedly turn it over, only to have my confusion grow even more. Very clearly, in big, black, handwritten letters, the envelope reads, “DO NOT OPEN”. What is this? Am I supposed to open this or not? I’m nervous. I’ve seen enough horror movies to think of a million different reasons why opening the envelope would be a bad idea. On the other hand, what’s the envelope going to do? Paper cut me to death? I could be on camera though. There could be cameras all over the house, like some kind of reality tv set. In which case, opening the envelope could most definitely spell out death for me. Crap. Paranoia wins out, and I decide not to open the envelope. For now.

Opening the door, my heart begins to race. What if there’s a murderer on the other side? He won’t kill me once he sees I’ve obeyed the rules and not opened the envelope, right? Or is opening the door against the rules? I almost slam the door back shut, but now my curiosity is winning. I have a burning need to know who I am, where I am, and why I’m here. Now that I have the door open, I step outside. Glancing around, I see more of the wonderful, rich furnishings like I saw in the room I just walked out of. Someone rich must live here. I see another mirror to my right, and this time I can’t look away. I’m actually rather pretty, and this dress I’m wearing is gorgeous. Do I always dress like this? I had thought it was a white gown, but it’s actually a shade of ivory. Empire waist, with tiny straps that criss-cross all the way down my back. I have champagne colored accents. Maybe I was going to a ball? I still can’t remember where I was, or where I was going. At least I know I looked good. I laugh to myself because I just realized that I remember what these details on my dress are called, but I can’t remember anything about me. I feel like I should be doing something, but I don’t know what.

I decide to head down the stairs. As I do, I see this gorgeous vase in the most incredible shade of blue. Blue. Immediately, I see blue eyes flash in my mind. My eyes aren’t blue though. Who’s eyes are those? I’m struggling to remember, to put a name to those eyes, but then they vanish. I really wish that I had a clue, just one clue that would stick with me. And then I see it. There’s a picture with those same blue eyes on a table in the foyer. They belong to a smiling man who has his arms around a smiling woman’s waist. I recognize that woman. Who is she? It dawns on me that I’m that woman, and that man with the lovely blue eyes has his arms around my waist… He must be important to me. Where is he now? He could tell me who I am! I’m so excited by this that I almost forget that if there’s a picture of me and this man in this house, then this house must belong to someone I know! This is definitely good! I feel so close, I could touch the answers.

I make my way efficiently through the house, looking for someone, anyone. Preferably the man with the blue eyes, but really at this point I’ll take anyone. I’m not having any luck. Where is everyone else? You can’t tell me that no one lives here. I see some mail on the kitchen table and decide to go have a look. I feel awful for looking at someone else’s mail, but I’m hoping to learn the name of whoever lives here. Maybe if I know their name, it will trigger a memory or something. The first piece I pick up is addressed to the resident at 1523 Lover’s Lane. Fantastic. Generic mail. The next piece is the same. I’m really hoping that the third time is the charm, because if I get one more piece of mail addressed to “resident” I think I’m going to scream. I pick it up with my eyes shut, hoping that if I do that and really, really wish that it will have a name, the mail gods will smile favorably on me and there will be a name. Opening my eyes, I almost drop the letter in my excitement as I burst into some kind of happy dance. There’s a name. It’s addressed to a Ms. Lorena Gayle.

Okay, so this house belongs to a single woman. I can live with that. I can definitely appreciate her sense of style. I think if I owned a house, this is what it would look like. Now I have to find her. I start to search the house all over again. Once I’m back upstairs, I open the last door. It’s a study, or an office. There’s a computer on a desk, also made of mahogany. Lorena must really like mahogany. I approve of this message. Still, not a trace of her to be found. Frustrated, I slump down into the large, leather armchair and let out  a deep sigh. This isn’t going well. My attention is caught when I see yet another picture of myself and the blue eyed man on the desk. Lorena must be friends with me, or the man in the picture with me. That’s nice. Hopefully she can arrange for us to meet up again, I feel as though we’re connected somehow. My mind wanders and is brought back to the present when I remember the envelope, still in my hand. Curiosity outweighs any paranoia I used to feel, and I open it.

There’s a letter inside, and it’s addressed to Lorena. Perhaps I was supposed to  deliver it to her. I hope she doesn’t mind that I read it.

My beloved Lorena,

You know that I love you and could never imagine a life without you! You are my light, my joy, my inspiration, my love! If you’re reading this letter, it means something has happened, and I couldn’t be there. I am deeply sorry.
3 years 2 months and 5 days ago we first met. I knew in that instant that I wanted to be with you for always and forever. You, on the other hand, needed a little convincing! You were worth the wait, and worth the time and effort put forward with the intentions of getting you in a relationship with me and keeping you. I will always hold dear the times we spent together and the many memories we’ve made. Do you remember what you wore? I do. It was that red satin dress with black boots. You have no idea how amazing you look in red. I think it’s my favorite color on you!
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you! I don’t think I can say that enough. Especially now. Lorena, I never wanted to hurt you, or to leave you. I need you to know that. Unfortunately, if you’re reading this letter then it means I’m gone. I never told you everything about me, because I was afraid you’d think me a monster and leave me. I am a monster. I’ve killed men before. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to get out of the Family, but once you’re in, you don’t get out unless it’s in a body bag.
I want you to know- no, NEED you to know, that none of this is your fault. Whenever you start to feel lonely, or miss me just take a look at your engagement ring and the inscription there. “Sempre”. Forever baby.
I love you.

Love,
John

I’m crying. I feel like this letter is to me somehow. How can it be? I’m not Lorena, am I? That’s when I notice the ring on my left hand. Remembering that Lorena has an inscription inside her band, I struggle to pull off my ring to see if I too have an inscription. I gasp. There it is. “Sempre”.

I’m Lorena.

-DeAnne Evans

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