The Fourth Memory

After the revelation that I'd been a patient for months, I give up. The pain and guilt- not for myself, but for what I'd put my dear grandfather through- is just too much for my young heart. The next time the doctor comes into the room, he tries to get me to eat, but I refuse. I insist I'm just not hungry, that I feel too sick to eat. I can see it in his eyes... he knows the truth. Fortunately, at that point, he chooses not to push me.

I wonder what shape the computers are in, but no one will tell me. That, by itself, tells me something. They aren't in good shape. If they were just fine, no one would hesitate to tell me they were just fine. Eventually, they try to tell me that anyway, but I don't believe a word of it.

I spend the entire week refusing food. The doctor tells me sternly that I need to eat, that starving myself won't do me any