Forgotten Memories

• Monique Beauchamp, Grade 8, St Patrick's College
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

My sister stares at me with blank, expressionless eyes. “Taylor Jensen," I repeat, “Your name is Taylor Jensen." Still no response. She just has to remember, she has to.
The doctors say she has retrograde amnesia. A loss of memory access to events that have already occurred. So the last 15 years of her life, the last 13 years we spent together, she doesn't remember. My big sister. The one who would help me with my school work and give me advice, now doesn't even remember her own name. The doctor assures me that her memory will come back in time, bit by bit, piece by piece. I don't believe them.
She lies there in the hospital bed, hopeless. It doesn't even look like she is trying to unlock her memories. “Taylor. Please. You have to remember me. I'm Daisy. Daisy Jensen. Your little sister. We used to do everything together." I feel the tears streaming down my face. “Remember when we were little how we would always make castles together? You would always be the queen and I would be the princess. Remember how on your first day of school I cried because I didn't want to leave you? You gave me a big hug and told me you would see me that afternoon. Remember my first day of high school? I was so nervous before you took me under your wing. You were always so generous and warm-hearted." I smile sadly over our lost memories. “Please. You have to remember something. Anything." My sister still just sits there, emotionless and not moved by any of the heartfelt moments of our childhood. “Say something." I'm now on the verge at screaming. “Taylor."
“l... I'm" She stutters. “l'm sorry but I don't remember anything." No. She has to remember me. She could never forget something that important. Not me. “Taylor. Stop it right now. You know who I am. I'm Daisy Jenson and you’re Taylor Jensen. Finish this act. You know who I am."
She still just stares at me. I'm not her sister I'm a stranger. “l'm sorry, I've tried. I just can't recall you but if you are my sister, then surely you understand that this is hard for me too. Just hope that one day I will remember."
Hope. That light at the end of the tunnel. That star you could always make a wish on. That feeling that maybe one day, things could be better.
My hope for my sister has disappeared. That light has turned off. That wishing star has died. All I can do is turn my head and walk out of the hospital ward, feeling one last tear fall gently off my face and onto the floor. Taking all of my hope with it.