Who Did It?

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Where I was. I wasn’t a stranger to feeling alienated from reality, like watching a movie where I was a character. The only thing that I was sure of at the moment, was that the basement, me, Henry, the gun he was holding: it was all very real.

“I need you to trust me.” Henry said as he handed me the gun, making sure to hold it with his jacket to not directly touch it.

I let my eyes examine the object. So small but so dangerous. So deadly. I kept staring at it, trying to avoid letting my eyes gaze at the body in the corner, dripping blood from their wounded chest, staining the white floor.

The lights kept flickering, just adding more to the already eerie atmosphere, as Henry kept looking at me, expecting me to hold the gun. He seemed completely unfazed, like he was unaware of what had just happened. I was told to stay away from him, that he was dangerous. I wasn’t naive. I heard the rumors. I just never believed them to be true. He seemed harmless, always kind to me. But I still always felt on edge when he was around.

And now, I see I had a good reason to.

“Just please take the gun. Get rid of it!” I still didn’t take it. I couldn’t understand how calm he was. There was a dead body in the basement. “Please, just trust me on this.”

I finally looked away from the gun and met his eyes. His empty blue eyes. Just as soulless as the dead man near us.

What happened? Who did it? Why can’t I remember it?

“This is all your fault! You provoked him.” I snapped at him, ignoring the fact that he was holding a loaded gun. Two bullets. He could easily use them. I didn’t care.

He chuckled, a dry laugh. “Sweetheart, you did this! It was you holding the gun. You pulled the trigger.” He forced me to take the gun. “You were protecting me.”

I felt dizzy, like my soul was leaving my body as well. He wasn’t wrong.

I was walking home by myself.

The man tried to rob me.

He held a gun to my head.

He dragged me to this house.

Henry was the man’s neighbor.

He saw something weird happening.

He broke into the house as the man dragged me into his basement.

Henry smashed the window.

They fought.

The kidnapper dropped the gun.

I aimed it at him.

I looked to the ground and spotted a wallet. I held it and saw two ids inside. One was Henry 's. The other belonged to the dead man.

Colin. That was his name. It didn’t ring any bells but it was one critical piece of information. That and the fact both Henry and Colin shared the same last name.

There was a picture inside. Colin and a girl. Heart shaped face, freckles dusting her cheeks and button nose. She had these full lips and chestnut brown hair caught in a ponytail. She looked too young to be his girlfriend but too old to be his daughter.

Could that be me? Did I want that to be me?

I needed a mirror or something I could see my reflection on. Unfortunately, the only thing in that basement was an old washing machine and a freezer.

“Honey, please, just do what I say.” Henry softened his voice. “I was trying to protect us both. He deserved what he got.”

Or maybe it was Henry’s house. The man was his dad. He was abusive so Henry defended himself. Why was I there? How did we end up there?

Henry cupped my cheek, wiping blood out of it.I couldn’t tell if his touch was comforting or threatening.

I couldn’t remember a damn thing!

Also, how did that blood get on my cheek?

Maybe Henry and Colin were related somehow.

I was dating Henry.

Colin and I got into a disagreement.

He tried to attack me.

He got violent and punched me, explaining the blood.

Henry took matters in his own hands. Or maybe I did it.

But how did we end up in the basement?

We heard the sound of the doorbell. I froze. We couldn’t open the door. I wasn’t sure if I lived there. What if this was Colin’s house? Whoever was on the other side might want to see him.

Henry pressed his index finger against his lips, telling me to stay where I was. He dropped the gun on the ground and walked towards the stairs, out of the small basement.

I grabbed the gun and aimed it to the door. I didn’t know what I was doing. If I was ready to shoot Henry or whoever walked in there. My fingers were trembling and my heart was racing. I couldn’t do it. Not again.

I could remember Henry’s smile as he found me lying down on the ground. I was holding tight to an object.

The gun.

The door opened and all I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It was Henry again. There was no one with him. He dropped a bag he was now carrying on the ground as I aimed the gun at him. He didn’t seem to mind that I was holding a gun on him. He didn’t seem to care about anything at all. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

I walked toward him, my hands still shaking as I pressed the gun against his chest. I looked at him again, noticing something I didn’t notice before. He had a purple bruise under his eye. “How do you know? You said it yourself, I caused this!”

I tried to keep my hands stable and noticed that my knuckles were sore and red, like someone had stepped on it. Did I punch him? Did we fight? Just me and him? Colin had to be involved somehow. It was me and Henry against him.

I was trying to hold back my tears as my finger caressed the trigger. “What happened? What’s in the bag?”

Henry slowly took the gun out of my hand and tossed it aside. “Just trust me, please. Can you please trust me?”

How could I? I didn’t even remember what I looked like.

I didn’t even remember my name.