Don't worry if you didn't understand the last little chapter, the explanation is coming :)

Amnesia (from Greek Ἀμνησία) is a condition in which one's memory is either wholly or partially lost due to the extent of damage that was caused. Any condition that interferes with the function of this system can cause amnesia.

• Anterograde amnesia, is the loss of long-term memory, the loss or impairment of the ability to form new memories.

• Retrograde amnesia, the loss of pre-existing memories to conscious recollection, beyond an ordinary degree of forgetfulness. The amount of memories lost depends on the severity of the case. The person is unable to recall some or all of their life or identity prior to the onset.

Both categories of amnesia can occur together in the same patient.

(Wikipedia)

The first time they let me see him, the tears fell from my eyes uncontrollably. I had thought that I couldn't cry anymore. But I was proven wrong.

When I saw him, laying in that bed, bruises and cuts all over his face, the tears just came. I watched his perfect face, scarred and marred, distorted into something not even close to his natural beauty.

I traced my fingertips over the little untouched skin on his forehead. He was motionless. No moving, no reaction, nothing. If I couldn't hear the beeping of the machine, that was attached to his body, I would've thought he was actually dead. But the reality wasn't much better anyway.

***

I thought that it was a miracle when he woke up from the coma. The immense happiness I felt when they told me his eyes are open again, this hopeful joy overshadowed everything for a moment. But soon enough I was forced to confront the horrible defects.

He wasn't my Kibummie anymore.

The moment when I stepped into his room, my smile as wide as it could be, only to find confused eyes looking back at me. Reaching for his hand, only for it to be pulled away.

It killed me.

It took no more than a moment to realize that he just wasn't my Kibummie anymore.

***

They said he had amnesia. They said it was common. They said it would go away soon.

I waited.

***

It didn't go away. I waited and waited, wishing that there would come a moment when he would actually remember where or who he was. Who I was. But he couldn't remember anything.

On the first days I stayed with him, fighting the tears every couple of minutes. Because it was exactly couple of minutes that he could remember anything. But soon, after the first day, I couldn't even cry anymore.

I told him he had an accident and was now in a hospital. I told him his name and he even asked mine. We would exchange some sentences and everything would seem to be alright. But then there would be a pause, when he would sit perfectly still. And he would be asking all the same things again. Over and over again, it was a vicious circle.

With all the times I had to do it, I had already given up on telling him that I was his boyfriend, choosing to say that I was just a friend. His reaction wasn't exactly the best, to say it lightly.

I knew I couldn't blame him for it. But it still hurt. It still hurt so much.

***

I hated this man. I couldn't help but hate him with every fiber in my body. It was horrible, absolutely unthinkable, that a man could do it to his own son. His own son, god damn it.

I know that there are homophobes, and I know that some people are really violent. But it was no excuse to do something like this to your own son.

I felt so powerless when watching Kibummie live his days like that. Watch him repeating the same from waking up to falling asleep, all his days exactly the same. It was horrible. And I couldn't do anything.

He was broken, but I couldn't fix him this time.

I hope it cleared things up, if not then don't be afraid to ask :)

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