Wednesdays are such boring days, despite the exciting name it receives. It's just smack dab in the middle of the week. It's not as painful as Monday and Tuesday, with the notion that you have barely started the week, and it's not the mild anticipation of Friday you find on Thursdays, and it's not Friday itself where the weekend is imminent and you're let out of school early, nor is it the blessed and forgiving weekend. All you get is the knowledge that you're halfway through the school week.

Usually, Nat would make it more exciting by talking to me or taking me somewhere fun, sometimes making me wonder why I ever go along with him in the process, but he's working on an essay worth a large portion of his grade, so I don't dare disturb him. I want the best for his future, even if my own is doomed.

There's nothing on my "movies to watch" list that fits my mood exactly, and according to my parents I haven't been big on reading since middle school, so my recreational options are limited. It's not like I'm going to go outside at ten o'clock at night and play sports, either, but that may be partially because I hate sports -- I've figured that much out. I also have no academic work to complete, and my teachers don't schedule tasks in advance for us to do before they're actually assigned. Due to all of these things, I'm just scrolling through random applications on my laptop. As bored as I am, I do not discriminate. Every app is welcome in my perusing adventure, even navigators and calculators, which I explore thoroughly just like the others. By the time I exit the application, every tab will have been clicked, every pixel seen, every operation figured out. Maybe this will come in handy one day, but for tonight all I need it to do is occupy me until I get tired enough to go to bed.

Most of the apps on my computer are utilities pre-programmed into it and unable to be deleted, so I start with those first, as I have a tendency to save the best things for last. My documents are pages upon pages of random tidbits of writing that I could've just written on a sticky note, as well as school assignments. They're the first somewhat entertaining things I've found tonight. My download and picture folders serve as the second. As expected, a fraction of the items in there are for school, but I find many hilarious pictures among them. I may have lost my memories in the crash, but I sure as hell didn't lose my type of humor. While I'm there, I go ahead and delete the photos I don't need, then move on to another application.

In the bottom right corner of my desktop, where I would have reached it last even if I were going in order of the apps' arrangement on my computer, I double click on the icon for a messaging app I have been neglecting for a few months. I doubt I was very popular before the crash or that I am after the crash, but there are nevertheless probably some unread messages on here. I anticipate pity messages that people didn't have the guts to verbally present to me.

My messages load, and boy am I correct. My inbox is flooding with messages from when I was first checked into the hospital and the word was spread throughout my school. All of them wish me a speedy recovery, along with the generic consoling phrases you would encounter in every tragic experience. Some of my newer messages are from people wondering how I'm holding up, how things are going with Nat, criticism of my relationship with Nat, and the rest are about normal school things that I missed, which explains a lot about how I'm never the one to know about events my classmates will be attending. People have also shared some links to anonymous confession pages or other forms of self-promotion. I respond to each message with a copy and pasted lie about how I'm sorry for not responding as the first line, in addition to whatever I need to say to each particular one. A few of the people I'm talking to are online at the moment, but I ignore any messages they send me after I've replied to their first.

Next, I move on to the messages from before the crash. Who knows what I might discover here? As much as I'm curious to see what lies within these chats, I'm also equal parts nervous. What if I find something I'll regret seeing? I promised myself I would only focus on my new identity, but now that I am presented with the first shred of information into my past life, I cannot stop myself. When I made that promise to myself, I wasn't being bombarded by people opening up suspicious conversations then never finishing them. I owe it to myself to find closure and to not destroy myself by devoting my brain power to my investigation.

Most of the pre-crash messages are the same as the post-crash messages, excluding the "get well soon" wishes. I scroll all the way up in order to unearth as much as I can and find many discussions with boring girls and witty comments from me.

I spot the profile pictures of three out of five of Nat's gang – or former gang – and decide to see what stupid shit they have to say to me. It's the square head guy, the tallest one, and the guy who called me a faggot. They seem to be the three who do the most bullying, while the other two stand in the background and snicker. If they were all part of the verbal team, the world would most likely implode due to a deadly surplus of idiocy.

I shut my eyes and swiftly scroll all the way up so I don't spoil the fun, and then I slowly scroll back down as I read the messages and cackle at their stupidity. Our conversations were very one-sided, as my pre-crash tactic for dealing with bullies was to just leave them on read, which was almost as aggravating as they thought I was.

After I get through Nat's friends, I scroll a bit lower through my contacts and find Nat Kingsley himself. My heart jumps at the sight of someone I know and love. What was my relationship to Nat before the crash? It's time to figure it out now, after months of people dancing around the question and leaving me perplexed and stressed.

https://youtu.be/y4vmHwN5xs8

I click on his contact and scroll to the beginning. Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind before I commence this trip down no memory lane – and instantaneously, I wish I had just stayed away and learned nothing about my past, because now I've learned too much.

Paragraphs of "faggot" and "kill yourself" and every soul crushing phrase under the sun flash before my eyes, but I somehow can't stop myself from scrolling through them, from imbibing every single word, from reading them in a voice that, until now, has always only been a mark of positivity.

My heart crumbles into dust. My eyes knock down their levies. My skin drowns in tears. But my focus remains on the screen.

It all becomes crystal clear by the time I reach the bottom why Nat has been so secretive, why no one thought we were compatible, why people saw my success in friendship and didn't have the heart to tell me the truth. Tessa was right – I am only therapy to him. Why was I so stubborn? Why did I never consider what many other people told me? Why did I let myself get played like this?

The reason for my prior boredom was that I forbade myself from contacting Nat, but I no longer give a shit if I disrupt his studies. I tear my eyes away from the screen in a panicked state. My fingers shake as I unlock my phone and type in Nat's number, and my hand follows the earthquake course as I hold my phone to my ear.

He has become so much more than a bully. He is my boyfriend, my best friend, my entire world. When I was left completely barren from amnesia, he was who I gravitated towards. And to now discover that he tormented me before I forgot everything that ever happened, it makes me wonder if I should try to fight against gravity.

He picks up and immediately starts speaking before I can scold him. "Hey, babe, I just finished my paper, and I was about to call you, but I guess you're here." His voice is jovial. Not for long.

"Was it suicide?" I interrupt him with my epiphany.

I realize that suicide was never mentioned when I was in the hospital, because the doctors didn't want me going on some vengeful or obsessive quest to figure out why, but now it only seems logical. I realize as well that Nat's messages were the only ones I replied to, with feeble attempts to defend myself. I admired him, didn't I? I admired him, and that's why his messages hurt a hell of a lot more than those of his friends'. I sought his approval, and when I came up empty, or with nothing more than mental wounds, I was no longer able to derive hope from my life.

There's silence on the other line, and I can only imagine the confusion creasing Nat's face. "What? Link, are you alright?"

"I obviously didn't crash into a pole for shits and giggles, Nat, so I'll ask you one more time: was it suicide?" My tone is tough and frail at the same time. It's hard but wracked by tears. It represents the combat between despair and anger rumbling within my heart.

"I believe so."

"And it was your fault, was it not?"

I don't know why I'm doing this. I have my answers. I am a drill, and Nat is stone cracking under my pressure, and in a sick, twisted, and sadistic way, I'm enjoying it. The reasonable part of my mind reminds me that this will not leave me emotionally fulfilled, but I shoo that part away.

"Link..." Nat's voice breaks off in an audible snap.

Teeth gritted, I demand again, "Was it not?"

I hear sniffling being transferred from the other line to my own. Nat is breaking down. "Shit, Link, yes. Yes, it was my fault, and I fucking hate myself for it. I hate myself for getting so close to you when all I wanted to do was give you a friend to make up for all the horrific things I did to you. I hate myself for letting you be afraid of your past. I hate myself for allowing you to fall in love with the person who almost killed you." Sobbing chops Nat down until he is only a product of his dejection.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My rage is slightly mitigated now, but it still bangs on the walls of my body, screaming to be uncaged.

He struggles to speak through his tears. "I was a coward--I am a coward, and I know that's no excuse, but this is an inexcusable crime."

I see myself begin to fracture, too, but I fortify myself through my words since I cannot fortify myself inside. As much as I love Nat, I cannot endure more pain.

I bite the part of my tongue that wishes to reconcile with Nat and instead let the other part express itself. "Like Tessa said, you think about your choices all the time, and yet you still decided to lie to me so I wouldn't despise you and you could pretend like you were forgiven. You preyed off my mental vulnerability in order to put me off your trail. You're nothing but selfish and opportunistic."

"Fuck, I just...I'm sorry. I can't even describe how sorry I am. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I..." He can't even finish his sentence.

My jaw clenches, as does my hand around my phone. All of the sudden, I hang up. Immediately after, I slam down my phone and before I can think of a rational thing to do next, I leap from my chair, skip two stairs at a time down to the main level of the house, escape through the door, grab my bike, and flee as fast as I can. I don't know where I'm going, but anywhere is better than here.

~~~~~

A/N: comment if u cried

~Dakotot