Chapter 6 — Jessica breaks her silence about her memory blackouts — Then explains how she lost track of time while alone in the house
Jessica gripped the banister tighter.
Her knuckles were completely white.
“It feels like hours are just missing,” Jessica whispered, her voice cracking as she stared at the floorboards.
“I wake up standing by the kitchen counter, and I think I’ve already done everything.”
David closed the black spiral notebook.
The heavy thud of the cardboard cover echoed in the narrow hallway.
“You wrote every single meal down in this grid, Jessica,” David said, holding up the book.
“You logged calories down to the last decimal.
You wrote that you handed them to Chloe at the bus stop.”
Jessica shook her head slowly.
“I didn’t write that today,” she murmured. “I don’t remember writing those lines on the page.”
“They’re in your handwriting,” David replied.
“I know,” Jessica said, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “That’s the terrifying part.”
She walked the rest of the way up the top landing.
She sank down onto the carpeted floor, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“I’ve been trying to keep everything perfect,” Jessica said, staring blankly at the wall.
“The house, the groceries, the schedule.
Ever since the winter bills went up, I felt like if I slipped up for one second, everything would collapse.”
David knelt beside her.
“You didn’t have to carry all of that alone,” David said softly.
“I didn’t think I was carrying it,” Jessica said, a tear finally spilling over her lashes.
“I would stand by the stove and chop vegetables on complete autopilot.
Hours would pass in what felt like five minutes.
I would pack the lunchbox, put it in the fridge to keep it cold, and honestly believe I had handed it to Chloe.”
Chloe stood at the bottom of the stairs.
She had crept up silently from the kitchen, holding a small canvas bag against her chest.
“Mom,” Chloe said quietly.
Jessica looked up, her face twisting with sudden guilt.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Jessica choked out. “I didn’t mean to scare you with those notes. I just wanted to make sure you had food.”
“I know,” Chloe said, walking up the first few steps. “I wasn’t mad. I was just really confused when I opened the box and saw that weird message about turnkes.”
Jessica frowned.
“What message?” Jessica asked.
“The paper inside the metal box,” Chloe said. “The one David read this morning.”
Jessica stared at her daughter with genuine confusion.
“I didn’t put any note in the lunchbox,” Jessica said slowly.
Chloe tilted her head.
“Yes, you did, Mom,” Chloe insisted. “It was folded up right under the napkin.”
Jessica shook her head with absolute certainty.
“I never wrote a note about turnkes,” Jessica said. “I write calorie counts and times. I don’t write messages like that.”
David turned his head sharply toward the stairs.
“If Jessica didn’t write the note,” David asked, his voice tightening, “then who did?”
Chloe dropped her gaze.
She reached into the side pocket of her canvas backpack.
She pulled out a final, unopened metal lunchbox and set it on the step between them.