He grabbed my hand and wove his fingers between mine, closing his eyes briefly. I let out a breathy gasp as images flooded my mind. I saw myself giving Abby a lock of hair in front of the school. I saw a younger Liam watching as a man got run over by a black car. Lastly I saw someone dressed in black in a grungy looking room pouring a vial of blood into a cup, along with hair that looked like mine, and other item I couldn’t identify.

I gaped at Liam and saw he was warily watching me.

“You saw all that?” He asked and I nodded mutely.

“Okay.” I breathed out.

“Okay what?” He asked, his tone hopeful.

“I believe you.” I said, taking the leap.

A grin blossomed across his face, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” I said

“You’re the first person who’s actually done that. My parents always told me I was insane and making it up for attention.” He said and my sympathy for him grew. Growing up like that must have been awful, being told that what you thought and saw was false.

“Mine probably did too, if I could remember.” I said, but whispered the last part.

“Yours too? Why?” He asked.

I toyed with telling him, he did take a huge risk by telling me about him. I probably should just be honest with him, and tell him about my past. Maybe something happens to certain kids when they turn 12. Jealousy rears its ugly head as I wish that I had his future seeing, rather than my lose of memory every 30 days.

“Okay, so from what I can gather, every 30 days I loose my memory. It started happening when I turned 12, and I think I started writing journals of what happened in my life. Someone stole them this month so I haven’t had a chance to read them yet. Which means I have no idea who I really am.” I told him and he nodded thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t sound too bad, every 30 days you could reinvent yourself.” He grinned and I scowled at him.

“Of course it’s bad! You try waking up with no memory of who you are or who anyone is-”

He cut me off by waving his hands and said, “I was joking, sorry. It does sound horrible and really terrifying.”

“Sorry, I just assumed you were more serious than joking.” I said bluntly.

“Well, I am, most of the time.” He smiled at me then changed subjects, “Anyways, please tell me you’re not actually going to hand over a lock of your hair.”

“Actually, I am. If I give Abby a lock of my hair, I will get a journal of mine back.” I informed him.

“You cannot be serious! You have no idea why they want it or what they’ll do with it!” He protested.

“I don’t care, I need to know more about my life and who I am.” I argued.

“Charlotte, please! You saw what will happen, next they’ll be asking for your blood.” He pointed out and I huffed.

“Liam, stop. This is my hair, my blood, and my life. It’s my decision and I’ve made up my mind.” I said, “Besides, once I give over my hair, I’m going to track down whoever is behind all this and get my journals. No blood giving or anything. All in the next 30 days.”

“You sound pretty confident.” He said doubtfully.

“I have to be, I’m on my own in this.” I said and he shook his head at me. I really don’t see how he thinks giving a lock of hair will so disastrous.

“You’re not alone.” He said, “I’m here.”

“Just because we’ve shared some things about ourselves, doesn’t mean we’re, like, working together.” I protested, surprised at his comment. We just met! Other than the fact that I loose my memory every 30 days, he knows nothing about me and I know the same about him.

“Right, well, regardless, I’m here if you need me.” He said and internally I smiled at that, having someone on my side is nice.

“Thanks, I’ll see you later.” I waved at him as we went our separate ways.