The Eraser In My Brain Moved And My Sister Disappeared Chapter 08

The Eraser In My Brain Moved And My Sister Disappeared Chapter 08

Mom’s expression froze instantly. 

Her mouth hung open, but no sound came out. 

She only stared at Dad blankly, as if she had not understood what he had said. 

“Did you forget about her illness?” 

Dad’s voice was very quiet, but every word hit like a hammer. 

“She remembered the comedy sketch from the New Year’s Eve countdown special. Maybe she remembered what she had for lunch yesterday. But could there have been a moment when she 

suddenly forgot where home was?” 

“Could she have forgotten how to stand up from that hollow and walk back along the road she had 

known her whole life?” 

Dad’s gaze moved past Mom and toward the 

figure lying in the bedroom, the one who would ( 

never answer again. 

“It wasn’t that she wouldn’t come home. Maybe 

she couldn’t.” 

Dad’s eyes reddened. 

I raised my hand, wanting to wipe away the tears 

at the corners of his eyes, but I could not do 

anything. 

In all my life, I had only seen Dad cry twice. 

Once was when I was diagnosed with my memory 

disorder. 

The other was when Sunny was born. 

“She was alone in the dark, snowy field. She had 

forgotten everything and didn’t know where to go.” 

“She was cold, so cold that she started 

hallucinating, and then she took off her clothes. 

How scared must she have been at the end?” 

Dad choked on the words and could not go on. He 

covered his face with his hand. 

Mom looked as if all the bones had been pulled 

out of her body. She slid down along the 

doorframe and collapsed onto the floor. 

She stopped screaming. 

She stopped arguing. 

“That’s right. She forgot. So that was it. She had 

forgotten.” 

“I knew my baby girl wouldn’t fail to find her way 

home. She had only forgotten.” 

The older officer and the younger officer exchanged a look and sighed softly. 

“Based on the evidence and our current analysis, accidental death from hypothermia is the most likely conclusion. Of course, if you still have 

concerns, you can request a further autopsy.” 

No one answered. 

The younger officer seemed to want to say something else, but the older officer stopped him 

with a look. 

In the end, he only said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Then he quietly explained a few follow–up 

procedures, and the two officers left in silence. 

The house fell back into dead silence. 

At some point, Sunny had woken up. She stood in the bedroom doorway, holding the broken doll in 

her arms. 

She slowly walked over and gently set the rag doll she could not fix beside Mom’s leg. 

Then she reached out with her small hand and 

touched the tears on Mom’s face with her cold 

fingers. 

Mom’s whole body shuddered. 

Then she lowered her head to look at the doll 

beside her leg, then looked at Sunny’s little face. 

She reached out as if she wanted to touch Sunny’s 

head, but her arm seemed too heavy to lift. 

In the end, that hand fell weakly and landed on the 

broken doll. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl.”