The Eraser In My Brain Moved And My Sister Disappeared Chapter 08
Mom’s expression froze instantly.
Her mouth hung open, but no sound came out.
She only stared at Dad blankly, as if she had not understood what he had said.
“Did you forget about her illness?”
Dad’s voice was very quiet, but every word hit like a hammer.
“She remembered the comedy sketch from the New Year’s Eve countdown special. Maybe she remembered what she had for lunch yesterday. But could there have been a moment when she suddenly forgot where home was?”
“Could she have forgotten how to stand up from that hollow and walk back along the road she had known her whole life?”
Dad’s gaze moved past Mom and toward the figure lying in the bedroom, the one who would never answer again.
“It wasn’t that she wouldn’t come home. Maybe she couldn’t.”
Dad’s eyes reddened.
I raised my hand, wanting to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes, but I could not do anything.
In all my life, I had only seen Dad cry twice.
Once was when I was diagnosed with my memory disorder.
The other was when Sunny was born.
“She was alone in the dark, snowy field. She had forgotten everything and didn’t know where to go.”
“She was cold, so cold that she started hallucinating, and then she took off her clothes. How scared must she have been at the end?”
Dad choked on the words and could not go on. He covered his face with his hand.
Mom looked as if all the bones had been pulled out of her body. She slid down
along the doorframe and collapsed onto the floor.
She stopped screaming.
She stopped arguing.
“That’s right. She forgot. So that was it. She had forgotten.”
“I knew my baby girl wouldn’t fail to find her way home. She had only
forgotten.”
The older officer and the younger officer exchanged a look and sighed softly.
“Based on the evidence and our current analysis, accidental death from
hypothermia is the most likely conclusion. Of course, if you still have concerns,
you can request a further autopsy.”
No one answered.
The younger officer seemed to want to say something else, but the older officer
stopped him with a look.
In the end, he only said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Then he quietly explained a few follow-up procedures, and the two officers left
in silence.
The house fell back into dead silence.
At some point, Sunny had woken up. She stood in the bedroom doorway,
holding the broken doll in her arms.
She slowly walked over and gently set the rag doll she could not fix beside
Mom’s leg.
Then she reached out with her small hand and touched the tears on Mom’s face
with her cold fingers.
Mom’s whole body shuddered.
Then she lowered her head to look at the doll beside her leg, then looked at
Sunny’s little face.
She reached out as if she wanted to touch Sunny’s head, but her arm seemed too heavy to lift.
In the end, that hand fell weakly and landed on the broken doll.
“I’m sorry, baby girl.”