Owen drives me over to his apartment room up at his university. We're mostly quiet, besides the quiet music playing in the background. I'm thinking about how I'm going to bring up the topic of us dating before the accident and why he won't bring it up to me. I'm not really sure what he's thinking, but he isn't really talking either.

As soon as we enter his room, Joey stands to greet us. I can hear Owen's groan as Joey pulls me into a bear hug. I stay pretty stiff, not quite comfortable in his grasp.

"Let the girl go," Owen says, taking off his jacket and folding it over the chair.

"I'm just greeting her, man," Joey smiles down at me as he releases his grip.

"She's not used to mountain man hugs as a normal greeting," Owen explains, sitting down on his couch.

"Yes she is- Wait, right, I almost forgot," he corrects himself. Then he takes a small step away from me. I give him a half hearted smile. "Sorry, Brinley. I just... My mistake."

"It's okay," I say with a sigh.

"I feel pretty crappy now."

"You should," Owen says.

"Thanks," Joey looks over at him.

"Hey, you brought it up. I only acknowledged it."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You mind getting some sandwiches from the little shop downstairs, Joe?" Owen calls over to him, turning on the TV.

"What? No, Brinley knows where they are, she can-" he stops. Closes his mouth. Frowns. "Crap. Did it again. Sure, I'll grab some sandwiches."

"Thanks," Owen replies.

Joey leaves the room, looking frustrated with himself.

Owen waves me over. I sit on the couch beside him, putting my hands under my legs to keep them warm. My toes, well there's not much I can do about those so I may as well say goodbye now because they'll have to be amputated by morning.

"You cold?" Owen asks me, watching me with an amused expression.

"Um... Just a little." Yes, I'm turning into an ice sculpture on your couch.

Owen moves closer and holds out an arm as if he's inviting me to come snuggle up right next to him. But then his eyes get wide and his arm retracts, and he brushes his fingers nervously through his hair. He stands up, looking frustrated, and walks across the room, takes a blanket from a basket at the door and throws it across the room at me before sitting down with a deep breath.

"Whoa there," I say, pulling the blanket around me.

He turns to me slowly, confused at first. Then he shakes his head. "Oh... I... I'm sorry. Yeah, the blanket... Um... Yeah."

"It's alright. Hard day?" I ask him.

"Well it wasn't," he mutters under his breath.

"What do you mean?" I ask. Did I interrupt something? Am I not wanted here or something?

He looks at me again. "Sorry," he shakes his head. "It's nothing personal... You know what, why don't we start the movie?"

"Sure," I nod my head.

He takes the remote and is about to turn on the TV, but I realize I can't procrastinate this anymore. If I don't say it now, I never will.

"Wait-" I say, holding out a hand to touch his shoulder gently.

I can see his breathing physically stop. His focus turns slowly to my hand on his shoulder. His eyes look deeper when he turns back to me than I've seen them before. Then he blinks a few times, looking away.

"What is it?" He asks quietly.

"Why won't you tell me about it?" I ask.

"Tell you about what?" He asks, clenching his hands together.

"We were dating," I say quietly. And I don't know why my cheeks tint pink but they do. "I was your girlfriend."

His eyes flicker to me quickly. He looks shocked to hear me say those words. I hold his gaze for a long time. My words float between us, unanswered. He looks at me in a way I haven't ever seen him before.

"Why didn't you ever bring it up with me?" I ask him. "There must be some reason. I mean, there have been opportunities to say that to me, plenty in fact. But you didn't. I mean, it's been about three weeks now."

"How long have you known?" He asks quietly.

"I don't know," I shrug. "A while."

He looks back down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

"Are you ever going to answer my question?" I ask him.

"I can't. Not now, at least," he says, shaking his head.

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?" I ask him, frustrated. "You're hiding things from me?"

"No," he says. "Well, yes. For now."

"For now? What does that even mean?" I'm getting frustrated now.

"I can't tell you now! I can't bring up the fact we were dating at this moment. There were some things that happened before the accident that you clearly don't remember and I just... It doesn't feel right to overlook them," he says.

"Then tell me!" I shout. "I can handle it!"

"No, you can't! It isn't right."

"Whoa, bad timing," Joey stares at us, eyes wide, holding out two plates with turkey sandwiches on them.

"Thank you, Joey," Owen says with a sigh. Joey places the plates on a table, spares a glance at both of us, and evidently decides it's best to just leave us be.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to calm my nerves. I control my rage, my breath. I need to keep my anger under control.

"Look, it isn't right of me to tell you the things that happened," Owen says.

"Why not? I am perfectly able to listen," I shake my head.

"No, Brinley, you don't understand," Owen runs a hand through his hair.

"What don't I understand? What can't I understand?" I ask, voice raising.

"I just need her back! I need you to remember every freaking thing that happened or when you do remember you'll never forgive me," he yells, standing up. "You'll think I took advantage of your forgotten knowledge."

I don't know why his words hurt me like they do. Maybe it's because I've never heard him yell before. Maybe it's because I don't remember us fighting or anything. Maybe it's because I actually realize now how much people see me as disabled. As a child they have to tiptoe around.

And I break.

Because what I don't end up remembering?

People will treat me like this forever. I'll forever be known as the disabled one who can't understand. Can't remember. Doesn't realize what happened. Someone who isn't capable of hearing the truth. Someone who doesn't even know who she is.

I look at my hands.

Nobody really knows what it feels like. To have this sort of blockade in your mind, preventing you from knowing things. It's like a horrible, horrible trick. My past is dangling there for me to grab but I can't quite reach it. And I have to deal with that.

But no, I can't possibly understand who I used to be. I can't possibly be trusted with that information. Because I'm not the same. And they're right. I may not be the same person, but this is who I am now and I should at least be given the truth.

"Look, Brinley," Owen says, voice softer now, as if seeing how it's affected me. "It isn't your-"

"No," I say, closing my eyes, trying to prevent tears.

"You have to listen to me," he says, touching my shoulder gently.

"I don't want to hear it," I say. "I'm obviously not worth the truth. And I don't want to hear lies."

"It's not like that-"

"But it is," I say, smiling sadly as a tear streaks down my cheek. My eyes stay squeezed shut as I speak. "I get it. You want the old Brinley back. There's nothing I can do about that. And I'm sorry, for taking her away from you."

I don't want to see his face. His disappointed eyes. His disappointed face. All he wants is his old girlfriend. And I can't give that to him. I may never be able to. I feel bad for him.

I stand up, vision blurred by tears. I start walking towards the door, or at least what seems to be the door. I can't really tell at this point. I just need to get out. I need to get out now.

This door isn't enough. Not only do I want to get out of this room. Away from disappointed Owen. I want to leave reality. I want to leave my disappointed mom. My disappointed sister. My disappointed friend. I know they want her back. The old me. But I can't give it to them. I don't want to see those looks anymore.

Someone grabs my wrist. I turn around, facing who I know is Owen. I try to pull out of his grasp, but he tries to bring me back into the room.

I think he's saying things to me, but I'm not listening. I don't want to hear it. Those disappointed words. I think I might be screaming. Trying to leave. Trying to escape.

I thrash myself around and rush out of his grip. I run down the hallway, and I hear his footsteps and voice calling me. I don't stop. I can't stop. He might not say it, but I know he doesn't want me to stop. Not until I'm his real Brinley again.

I can only hear his voice faintly now, but seven words stick in my head and replay over and over and over. This is what he said. Those are the words he whispered to himself when I escaped his grasp.

"How could I let this happen again?"