Lies of the Forgotten

By Ciera Nichele

Looking back into the past can be deadly. Sometimes what looks good is actually poison and not every lie is intended to be bad. London Jackson has to find out who she really is before she loses her life. Fooled by the people closest to her, she must find out the lies and truths of her past. Between a husband, lover, and child that she never knew about she has to get answers fast before she loses her mind. Secrets unfold and lives are lost as she journeys down this rabbit hole to reclaim her life. Will she survive her past in order to gain a real future? Or will she stick with the existence that has come so easily to her? London has some big decisions to make, for not only her well being, but for her loved ones as well. For every choice she makes another life has to be lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781304940216

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Lies of the Forgotten

Copyright © 2014 by Ciera Nichele

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author and publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-312-20754-7

www.Lulu.com

Prologue

We only get one life to live, but we spend the first half of it trying to figure out who we are. Most people go through that journey alone; some drown before they reach their full potential. My name is London Jackson and I can’t really remember who I was for the past few years. My life's journey has been filled with gaps, but I know that I am missing something important.

Sometimes I feel like I am drowning with a life boat. Everyone is telling me that my life seems perfect, but perfect people don't know about the nightmares and the reoccurring dreams. Perfect people don’t miss children they don’t have. I long for something that I was told I never encountered. Yes, I think I’m crazy too at times.

Lies seem to be present in everyone’s mouth, and yet they all have the same story. Is it really the truth, and I’m fighting it? Should I just go with the flow of my perfect life? Maybe I’m just making myself nuts just to escape a mold that wasn’t broken to begin with. I will sort it all out one day. Until then: breath, take it one step at a time, and go to therapy.

Chapter 1: Dream Come True

I was sitting in the quack’s room (as some people might refer to a psychiatrist’s office), staring at Dr. Blake.  She was a beautiful African American woman, with short dark hair, hazel eyes, and a lean body.  I lay on the comfy couch as she calls it. Personally, I think of it as a sunken couch, weighed down by people needing exercise as well as therapy. For the last seven months, she has been doing what she was hired to do: sift through my brain for memories stolen in a car accident eight months ago.

From time to time, I have this recurring dream…. Once again, I began spilling my soul to this over-educated black woman with no life.

Um hum, do go on, the great doctor speaks as she starts the tape.

A little girl, about 5 or so, was crying in a young man's arms. Both are very familiar to me. When I see the little girl, it’s like I’m looking in the mirror.

Elaborate for me, if you may, Dr. Blake asks softly.  

Grey eyes, long bushy curly black hair, and caramel colored skin. However, her skin was a tad lighter than mine. I recall.

What about the young man? How would you describe him?

He's about 6'1, onyx-colored skin, timbre black eyes, medium build, urban style with neatly done dreadlocks. I swooned.

I jabbered on for about an hour, talking about what I thought of the young man and the little girl, my suspicions of my parents, and my unsavory boyfriend. Then, the timer sounded. London, if you are up to it, I can arrange for more time, She offers as she finishes up her notes. I declined, thanked her for the session, scheduled an appointment for the same time next week, and headed out the door.

When I reached my Lexus truck, my phone rang. Yeah, I said, annoyed. An uppity professional voice met mine. It was my mother. London, baby, how was your therapy session, sweetie? This question came out as if she was motherly. Bull-crap, I thought. You are up there at that esteemed pediatrics office, where you’re a partner, trying to act concerned. When we both know that you’re just being nosy. Confidential, I bit out with a little frost to it. She acted as though she was taken aback by the single word lock out, and express that with a gasp.

London Amarie Jackson, I will not have such ill-mannered behavior out of you. You will respect me as your mother! a tone of rage shot through a soft, uppity, proper woman voice (even though she is a black woman straight out of Compton). The fact that my entire name was used let me know that she wasn’t playing, but then again neither was I. As your daughter, I am telling you that I am a young woman. You let me show you and daddy that I am capable of handling my own. This accident-, that woman cut me off in the middle of my award winning speech just to annoy me with an ill-mannered question.

Are you on your way home? Christopher is coming over for dinner. You know he’s the right guy for you honey, smart, rich, charming-, I cut her off in the mist of her never ending Christopher praising. This type of praising would go on and on if you let her.

Dr. Christopher Logan Larkin, young black, Stanford graduate, and platinum spooned kid (parents loaded with an over flow of cash which means he’s spoiled). From what I’ve been told, Christopher and I have been dating and in love for over a decade. Christopher and I are total a blur. He’s not… I don’t know, hiding something. So I place him in the same category as my mother and father: liars. He is placed behind that invisible wall I have built up until he decides to tell me what’s really going on.

I am going for some fresh air; a park maybe. That’s all you need to know. I will call you if plans change. Goodbye mother. I hang my rudeness up into the phone, got in my Lexus, and drove to the closes park in Stone Mountain. Going back to Buckhead was not on my immediate To-do list. On the drive over, I thought over the conversation that I had with my mother. I felt bad about my words and tones. However, she’s the one who’s acting all weird. I tucked away my emotions when it came to her because the only emotions I received from her were masked with pretend concerns.

Reaching the park, I found a parking space next to a black 1967 Chevy Impala. Whoever the owner was, kept it in excellent condition: silver lining, crisp white interior, brand new sound system, and chrome 24 inch rims.  But what set off this amazing wonder was the powdery pink car seat in the back. Not wanting to stare, I blinked out of trance. With my sketch book in hand, I exited my vehicle, locked and secured it, and preceded to the fresh air I came for.

A beautiful Oak tree graced me with cooling shade. There, I begin to sketch two overly excited girls on the swing set. They were only about five yards in front of me, so I had an excellent view. The girls were so full of life; I wish I could seize my childhood back or at least remember it. They are so free to be themselves. It doesn’t matter that they were different. I mean anyone with eyes can see one of the girl’s families has more money than the other, but it doesn’t matter to them. All that mattered was that they were happy.

Finishing up the sketch, I directed my attention to the spiral slide. A little girl that resembled the one from my dream was at the peak of the slide. In a flash, I took out my digital camera and took a quick snap shot as she was sliding down, to capture my dream even if it’s not a reality. When she reached the bottom, the young man from my dreams help her down. And just then the little girl escaped his grasp and made a track star’s sprint in my direction. It was as if time had seized and only she was there. It was as if she emerged from my dreams full blast. It was her in the flesh. I snapped out of my daze as the little girl tackled me to the ground.

The young man stood in a trance as if he had seen a ghost; the horror on his face took my breath away. When he realized that I had a stranger persona he sprinted over to us; all I could do was stare at him. Falling to his knees in front of me, tears rolled down his face. His hand touched my face, I pulled away at first. My fear of him subsided when he spoke my name.

London, I can’t believe it is you… My dream transformed into my reality; time stopped; only silence existed. I stared off without acknowledging their presence. Ironically, I was pulled back from a drift away daydream to my dreamed reality. The young man shook me until I snapped out of my bewilderment. Baby it’s me, Kaylon, your husband. He cried with despair. However, it was to no avail. I still couldn’t remember them. But my soul cried out to them as if I knew them personally.

The way he said my name, he knew me far better than I knew myself at the point in time. Kaylon pried the little girl off me and she realized that I didn’t remember them. Mommy, you don’t know me, Konlee, mommy, me I’m Konlee! she screamed heartfelt. The male pulled her up into his arms as if to protect her. My heart cinched toward her hurt, the way a mother would in reference to her child.

You know me, obviously, but I’m terribly sorry I don’t know the both of you. With my words, I tried to be as comforting and compassionate as possible. I started to gather my things and he grabbed my hand; I pulled away. Subconsciously, I knew that he wasn’t lying to me. Fear was present, the fear of knowing the truth.

If you’re who you say you are, my husband, where have you been for seven months? I asked in a monotone. I stared at him with a stone face. I was not prepared for the answer. But then again, what was I expecting from a man who was claiming to be my husband? They told me you were dead, your parents, the doctors and the nurses! My heart fell in my shoes. I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him.

It can’t be true. Why would they say those things? At this point I was shouting. You’re lying, you don’t even know me! And you have this kid calling me mommy. Is this some kind of scam? Who the hell are you!?! My eyes were frantic, the little girl was crying and he was surprisingly nonresponsive at first. Kaylon pulled out his wallet. In the wallet were a few pictures of us. I looked so happy. The little girl and I (more recent), me pregnant, him and I (older picture); we both wore rings, so we were married. I calmed down and was utterly speechless. He let it all sink in.

So, you are telling me that you’re my husband, she is my daughter, and I was pregnant? My hand went to my stomach as I gasped for air. Panic filled my eyes; I was having a panic attack. He started counting backwards from ten, I followed him. Kaylon knew me better than I knew myself; it was scary. Once we reached one, my breathing became closer to normal. I relaxed against the tree, taking in my lost past.  

I love you, Barbie. Kaylon said as she touched my face. His hands were so soft, smooth, and full of life; like they could tell his whole life story. I touched his face to regain some sort of lost memory of him, but it was to no avail. Tears began to stream down my face as a failure to produce lost reminiscences. Kaylon wiped my tears away, and looked away to regroup. I redirected my eyes back to Konlee. Do you want to hold her? Kaylon questioned me as he returned to me. I looked at him and said, emotion filled and voice cracking slightly, Please! Konlee leaped into my arms and exclaimed, Mommy, where were you? I missed you so much mommy. Please don’t ever leave! I whispered in her ear, Mommy wasn’t herself, but I will be here as long as you need me, a promise that I intended to keep.

She kept her Hercules grip around my neck until she finally passed out from exhaustion two hours later. Her heartbeat paced itself, and synchronized with my own symphony. It’s her, the missing piece, my child, my extra heartbeat.

We all sat out to the park and talked under the big oak tree until the sunset.

We need to get her off to bed, I say as I look down at my beautiful sleeping daughter. Kaylon stood up and grabbed her from my arms so I could get up from the bench. We began walking back to the parking lot when I realized that the car that I was eyeing earlier was indeed his classic eye candy. Since there were only two cars in the empty lot, he knew the luxury truck was mine.

"Follow me, I am going to show you the real you…"

Okay, we got in our separate vehicles, and I trailed him to my past.

We arrived in front