Sixth Sense

Fully recovered from the dumpster incident, I walked back out into the street. The theater. That's what my mind kept telling me. Then I realized I had no idea where the city's theater was located. I walked across the street and down the next, there seemed to be a lot of stores, so maybe I could find someone to direct me. I walked down the street and came to a stop by a bowling alley. It definitely wasn't anything special, seemed downright sad in truth, yet it seemed to be well populated. Someone had to be nice enough to show me the theater. There was even someone standing right outside in front of the alleyway. But then I recognized him. From the flashback. The man standing there, I saw in my memory in a coffin. How could my dad be standing right here, when from what I knew he was dead.
I walked closer to him, and he turned and went further into the alley way.
"Wait, dad! Where are you going?"
I ran around the corner. He stopped and turned. I stopped dead. His eyes were blank, just solid white. I don't know how long I stood staring at... my father... when I heard a grunt from the garbage. I looked down and there was a man passed out among the plastic bags. I rushed over to his side and checked his pulse and breathing (not sure how I knew what to do, but I did). He seemed okay besides the fact he was unconscious.
"What a day for people passing out beside dumpsters eh?"
I took his arms and dragged him out of the alley. At the mouth of the alley, I remembered my father. I glanced back and he was gone without a trace. Whatever just happened didn't make much sense, but I had to help this man at my feet. I ran inside the bowling alley and borrowed their phone to call 911. After my last experience at the hospital I decided it would be best for me to disappear so I told the alley's manager to stay with the man. I asked him where I could find the theater and headed back out across the street, just as the ambulance drove up.

I have this condition.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

My black dress was itchy. I think it was one of my older cousins or something. I hated hand-me-downs, they never fit like they were supposed to. I looked up at all the adults around me. A few had tears, but most just looked solemn with their fancy black dresses and suits. I don't know why, but the tears just wouldn't come. It couldn't be really happening. The hero always comes back. Any second now he would just pop out from behind a grave stone, ready to save my day once again. He would take my hand and walk me to the movie theater again like we did every week. He'd pick something hollywood style, where every one lives happily ever after to pick up our spirits.

Yet here I was, watching the coffin into the ground. The tears started flowing. The hero wasn't coming back. My grandmother grabbed my hand and squeezed it. It was done. Everyone started going back to the reception. I couldn't, wouldn't leave. My grandmother had to pick me up and carry me inside.

I didn't want to talk to anyone so I hid in the corner away from the noise. They were playing soundtracks to his favorite movies and that killed me. It made it worse. Then I saw her. Sadness turned to anger in a second. She saw me and started walking over as I continued to glare.

"Honey, don't give me that stare. I miss him too. I know its hard for you to understand, but you have to listen to me," that woman said.
"No, you left. Daddy told me to forget about it and forgive you, but he was the good guy. You are the bad guy. And now he's gone and the bad guy won." I said.
"You make it sound like I wanted him to die. This isn't one of your stupid movies."
"Movies aren't stupid. Daddy liked movies. I'm not stupid, you are."
"How dare you call your own mother stupid! That is complete disrespect. If today wasn't what it was, you'd be going into time out."
"You aren't my mom! I hate you! You can't make me do anything. All I want is daddy."
"Daddy isn't coming back, you know that. If you would just listen, we can leave and I'll explain everything to you. Why I left too. I didn't want to leave."
"I'm not listening to you! I'm not leaving with you! Leave me alone. Forever! I'm going with granny."

I ran off without another word. She yelled something as I left; it sounded something like, I loathe you or I love you. I didn't know what loathe meant and there was no way she would say love. I jumped in my grandmothers arms for comfort.
  --------------------
I slowly opened my eyes. The smell hit me first; it was awful. I looked up and there was the dumpster. In the distance I saw someone running away and I remembered the mugging. Some help I was, I thought. Although I must have smelled awful, luckily I landed in the pile of garbage to catch my fall. I ached my way to standing and started walking, unsure of where to go.

As I walked away I realized the dream I was having was actually a memory. My father was dead, and the woman in the hospital was my mom, but she left.. or something. For some reason I didn't like her, so I couldn't go back to her. Yet in the memory she said she loved me... Why did she leave?

I decided to put those thoughts away for now and figure out where exactly I could shower and sleep. The memory told me to start in the movie theater.

No plan. No backup. No choice. Expect the Incredible.

My mom? I think I would recognize my own mother, and I had no recollection of this women sitting in front of my hospital bed. Yet then again, now that I thought about it, I couldn't put a face to what my mom would look like... I didn't know what kind of plot these people were planning, but my throbbing head wasn't making it any easier to think out a plan. I tried sitting up only to realize I was strapped down.

"We had to strap you down in case you woke up with any memory problems. We don't want our patients running out of the hospital in a panic. We recently had another patient run out of the hospital yelling something about the sins of the hospital... we can't have that happen again."

Yeah right. Who straps a patient down to the bed? Last time I was strapped to a hospital bed it was with handcuffs, and that was because I was wrongly accused of blowing up the Kremlin. These people obviously didn't know who they were dealing with. I ripped open the straps and jumped out of the bed.

"Honey, what are you doing?!" said the woman, aka 'mom.'
"Now Heather, please calm down. Just lay back in bed and everything will be okay.." said the 'doctor.'
"My name is Ethan Hunt... wait... isn't Ethan a guy.."

A throbbing pain shot through my head and my vision went to black.

"Are you okay?" said the doctor, "You just collapsed all of a sudden, after you had a few... mismemories."
"Yeah, I'll be fine as soon as you let me go," I said.
"We can let you go, but you have to remain under the care of your mother, in case another incident where you black out occurs."
"Right. No."

I don't know why, but something told me whatever I did, I shouldn't go home with this woman, mom or no mom. This time I just sprinted right out, no commentary needed.

 I ran as fast as I could down the street, without stopping. I stopped by a place called "Isabella's Cafe," (the decor told me it was a strip club) as I was certain no one was following me. What the hell was going on? How come I couldn't remember most of my past? That's when I noticed a group of people in the back alleyway behind the strip club. It seemed a little odd when I saw someone sneak out and hit another  guys head. My gut feeling told me that my super strength would stop the evil-doer in no time. It was unfortunate that I didn't have my sleek black mask and my red, yellow, and black super suit.

I made it to the dumpster when all went black again.