Chapter Eight - Let's go hunting

Mason Hart

I’d been cooped up in my room for days. I’d only left my bed to use the bathroom, then headed straight back and hid under the covers. The guy that called himself Evan kept trying to get me to remember things. He told me stories of his childhood, jam-packed full of details about this Mason guy. It didn’t mean anything to me. Sure, he was probably telling the truth but what did that matter? I couldn’t connect with any of it. In some ways, I wished I wasn’t Mason, because at least then I wouldn’t feel like I’d lost everything.

I was so lost. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember a damn thing. It made no sense to me, I knew what objects were called and what they were for, but I couldn’t remember my name, what my favorite color was, food or drink. Hell, I didn’t even know what hobbies I liked, or what I did for work. Evan had been helpful, but