The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,11
set the cup on the floor beside her. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what to make of this. While complete memory loss isn’t unheard of, it’s not as common as the movies portray it. Usually, people only lose blocks of memories—a few minutes, a few months, a few decades—but can still recall earlier ones, especially from their childhood. The longer you’ve had a memory, the more solid it is.”
“Ah.” Keira pointed to her head. “And you don’t think this is enough to cause complete memory loss?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “No, I don’t. It’s not an impact wound but a glancing blow—possibly from a knife or glass or similar. It cut the skin but doesn’t look deep enough to cause any more significant damage.”
That was a surprise—Keira had implicitly assumed the injury and the amnesia were linked.
Mason raised his hands in an open shrug. “Lots of things can cause memory loss. Even something like whiplash can be enough to interrupt the flow of memories from short term to long term. But like I said, complete loss isn’t common. To lose everything, I would have expected to see severe cranial injuries.”
Keira picked the mug off the floor to give herself something to do. Mason’s tone hadn’t been accusatory, but it was hard not to feel defensive. “I’m not making it up.”
“Ah, no—that wasn’t…” He looked genuinely embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s not what I was getting at. How our brains store memories is an incredibly complex process, and we still don’t know how it works. Not really. We can guess and come up with theories, but the whole area is dotted with question marks.”
“Can they come back?”
“Often, yes.” Mason picked up his own drink, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the rising steam. “While there are some cases where the memories never return, most times, they do—either partially or completely. The brain is incredibly resilient. You might be able to help it re-form the connections by seeking out sights, sounds, smells, and tastes that might hold significance for your past life. Even just a small association—like your favorite drink—could be enough to bring something back.”
Keira looked at her cup of tea. It was still hot, but she sniffed the liquid, then sipped it. Mason watched with raised eyebrows, and Keira couldn’t stop a snorting laugh as she shook her head. “I think I like tea. But there’s no angel chorus of returning memories.”
His face warmed as he grinned. “Well, keep trying. It might take some time.” The smile dropped, and he shifted forward. “But I should add, I’m not actually a doctor yet. I can give general advice, but I won’t be anywhere near as helpful as a specialist. Some scans and X-rays could give answers, too, especially as your case is so unusual. Blighty doesn’t have a hospital, but I’d be glad to drive you to Cheltenham Medical.”
A quiet, strangling panic moved through Keira. She kept her smile in place but could feel her knuckles turning white on the mug. No hospitals. No doctors. “Honestly, it’s not so bad. I’ll, uh…I’ll see how I go over the next couple of days. It’ll probably fix itself.”
He tilted his head. The sharp green eyes flicked down to where her knuckles strained around the cup, then his smile was back in place. “Of course, it’s completely up to you. Scans could rule out certain causes, but there’s not much a hospital can do for treatment beyond therapy. You don’t need to go if you’d prefer not to.”
He must think I’m frightened of hospitals…which I guess is something close to the truth.
“Get lots of rest,” he continued. “Eat nutritious food, especially good fats and leafy, green vegetables. Try to jog your memory, but don’t push it. There’s a decent chance your mind will re-form the connections over the next day or two.”
“Thanks.”
“The cut on your head is shallow; I don’t think it needs stitches. Just keep it clean.” He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. “You’re not hurt anywhere else?”
The mark on her arm had settled to a low, dull ache. Her first instinct was to tell Mason that she was fine and deal with the injury herself. But, logic argued, Old Keira probably knew what to do to keep infection out. You don’t.
Her hesitation was enough to answer Mason’s question. He placed his mug back on the floor. “What is it?”