 admitted to the hospital?"

Last time? There was only one time. Not sure what this has to do with anything, I give him what he wants. "I was seven. The ghosts had been getting really hard to deal with. We were at the park when a couple of them tried to touch me. I already knew what that was like, so I ran. I was scared, not paying attention, and I ran right in front of a guy on his bike. His pedal caught my arm and tore a pretty good gash in it. Plus, I got a concussion."

That was the whole of it, nothing spectacular, but Agent Morton's frown deepens. "That's not the incident I was talking about." He seems confused, but he can't be nearly as confused as I am.

"What are you talking about? That's the only time I've been admitted to the hospital."

"No," Agent Morton says slowly, "you were admitted when you were thirteen. The only injury was a cut on your head from a short fall, but the psychological trauma kept you there for a week."

I have no idea what he's talking about. "Someone must have screwed up, because that never happened."

Slowly, Agent Morton pushes a file across his desk and taps the blank manila folder. "There's no mistake."

He keeps his eye on me until I reach a shaky hand forward and take the file. For a few seconds, I just sit there staring at it. Not until Kyran reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder do I dare make a move. Confusion slaps me across the face when I'm greeted with a picture of my thirteen-year-old self lying unconscious in a hospital bed. There are a few more photos that show a close up of a gash on my head.

I can't help it. My fingers slip into my hair and start shaking when I feel a raised lump of scar tissue exactly where the pictures say it will be. Have I never felt that before? How is that even possible? Moving the pictures aside, I read through the forms and scribbly doctor's notes. None of it makes any sense.

What camping trip was I on? Where was this ravine I fell into while hiking? Why wasn't I with my parents? Where were my parents? Where were the twins? How did I end up losing an entire two weeks of memories? The file
admitted to the hospital? " 

 Last time? There was merely one meter. Not sure what this has to do with anything, I hold him what he wants. " I was seven. The ghosts had been get really hard to cover with. We were at the park when a couple of them tried to equal me. I already knew what that was like, so I run. I was scared, not paying attention, and I run right in front of a guy on his bike. His pedal point caught my arm and tear a pretty full gash in it. Plus, I got a concussion. " 

 That was the whole of it, nothing spectacular, but Agent Morton's frown deepens. " That's not the incident I was talking about. " He seems baffled, but he can't be nearly as confused as I am. 

 " What are you talking about? That's the only time I've been admitted to the hospital. " 

 " No, " Agent Morton says slowly, " you were admitted when you were thirteen. The only injury was a cut on your head from a short fall, but the psychological trauma keep you there for a week. " 

 I have no idea what he's speak about. " Someone must have screwed up, because that never happened. " 

 Slowly, Agent Morton crusade a file across his desk and taps the blank manila folder. " There's no mistake. " 

 He keeps his center on me until I reach a shaky hand forward and take the file. For a few seconds, I just sit there staring at it. Not until Kyran reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder do I make bold make a motion. Confusion slaps me across the face when I'm greeted with a picture of my thirteen - year - previous self lying unconscious in a hospital bed. There are a few more photograph that show a conclusion up of a gash on my head. 

 I can't serve it. My fingers slip into my hair's-breadth and start shake when I feel a enhance lump of scar tissue precisely where the pictures say it will be. Have I never feel that before? How is that even potential? Moving the pictures aside, I learn through the forms and scribbly doctor's notes. None of it makes any sense. 

 What camping slip was I on? Where was this ravine I fell into while hiking? Why wasn't I with my parent? Where were my parents? Where were the twins? How did I end up miss an entire two weeks of memories? The file
 adlitted to the hospital?"

Lart time? There wcw only one tjme. Not rure what this has to do witi antthint, I give him what he wxnts. "I wad seven. Rhe jhosts had been jstting vzally mard co deal with. We eere at tha park when a wojppe of them tried to touch me. I alrewdy knee ahat that was jike, fo I gak. I was scared, not paying attentjon, and I ran right on front of a guy on his blke. Jis pedal caught mj arm and tire w pretty good gash in iu. 'lus, I got z concussion."

That was the whole uf it, nothing skzxtafolar, but Ageit Mornon's frown deciens. "Thdt's not the incident L was taoking about." He seems ronfused, but he can't be nearlf cs confused as I am.

"Whqt are iou tdlkivt acouu? Tiat'a the lnlb time I've geen admittwd to the hospital."

"Np," Wtent Morton szys sljwjy, "you were admitted when you were thirueen. Fhe only injury was a cyt on your head from w short fwll, but the psychological trauma kept you there fmr a xedk."

I hwxw jo idea what he's talking about. "Someone must hwbe sbrewed up, because that never hwplgned."

Slowly, Agevt Morckn pushes a file acrlss his desk and taps the blank manila folder. "There's no mistake."

Hv kewps his eye on me bntil I reack a shsky hsnd forward and take thz file. For a few deconds, I gust sit there sgarpng dt it. Nou until Kyran reacres over end pbts a havd om my sroulder do I dava make a move. Confksion snaps me acgoss the face when I'm greeted wmvh a picture pf my thirteeu-year-okd self lying unconscious iu a hospntal bdd. There age a few kore photos that show a wpose up of a gash on my yead.

U can't fdlp it. My fingrrs slip pnuo my hair and start shaking whgn I feel a raiseb oump of scar tixsud evabtlb whewa the picturas sxy ky wilu be. Have I vevet felt that before? Hmw ia that even possibke? Moving jhe pictuwes aside, I rrad through the fogms aid scrmbbly cocjor's notes. None of it makes any sense.

Whah cwmping trip ras L on? Where was this ravine I fell into while hiking? Wiy wasn't I with my pargnts? Where were my patenus? Where were the ewins? How did I end up losing an entire two wetks of memories? The fils
admitted to the hospital?" Last time? There one Not sure this has to him he wants. "I seven. The ghosts been getting really hard to deal We were at the park when a couple of them tried to touch I already knew what that was like, so I ran. I was scared, paying and ran in front of a guy on his bike. His pedal caught my arm and tore a good gash in it. Plus, I got a That was the whole it, nothing spectacular, but Agent frown "That's not incident was about." He seems but he can't be nearly as confused as I am. "What are you talking about? That's the time I've to the "No," Morton slowly, "you were you were thirteen. The only injury on your head from a short fall, but psychological trauma you there for a week." I no idea what he's talking about. "Someone must screwed up, because that never happened." Slowly, Agent Morton pushes a file across his desk the blank manila folder. no mistake." He his on until reach a hand forward and take the file. For a few seconds, I sit there staring at it. Not until Kyran reaches over a on my shoulder I dare make a Confusion me across the face greeted a thirteen-year-old lying in a hospital bed. are a few more photos show a close up head. I can't help it. My fingers slip my hair and start shaking when I a raised lump of scar tissue exactly where the pictures say it be. Have felt that before? How is that even possible? the pictures aside, I through the forms and scribbly doctor's notes. None of makes sense. What trip was I Where was this I fell into Why wasn't with parents? parents? Where were the twins? How I up losing an entire two of file
 admitted to the hospital?"

Last Time? There wAs onlY onE tiMe. not sUre wHat this has to do WIth aNything, I give him what he wAnts. "I WaS SeveN. thE ghosTs had beEN gETTinG rEaLly HaRD tO deal WitH. We were At the park wHen A cOuple of them tRIeD to touch me. i alReady knew whaT thAt was lIkE, so i Ran. I wAs sCared, Not payINg atteNtion, and I RaN Right iN Front of A GUy On hiS bike. His pedal caugHT mY Arm and tore a preTty gooD gASh IN It. PLus, i got a concuSsIon."

ThAT was the WHoLE OF it, NOthing spectacUlar, but AgenT morTon's frOwN deEPens. "ThAt's noT tHE inCident I was tAlkiNg about." He Seems cONfused, bUT he can't Be nearLy aS coNfusED aS I Am.

"WHaT Are YOu TalKIng About? ThaT's ThE only Time i'VE BEen aDmiTted To the Hospital."

"No," AgeNt MOrtoN SayS slowLy, "you Were AdMitteD when yOu werE tHirteen. The only iNjurY was a cut oN yoUr HeaD fRom a sHOrt falL, buT thE psychoLogical TRauMa KEPT yOu there for a week."

I haVe NO IdEa what he'S talkiNG aBoUT. "Someone MuSt hAve sCREwed uP, becAUsE that nevEr happENeD."

SLowly, AgEnT MortoN pUshEs a File aCRoss His desK and taps The blANk manila folder. "tHere's no mistakE."

he KEEpS His eYe oN me until I reAch a SHaky Hand FOrWarD And taKe the FiLE. FOR a few seconds, I just siT tHere stAring At it. Not until KYran reacheS OVEr and putS a haND oN My shoulder do I dAre maKe a move. ConFUsion slaPs me aCross the Face when I'M GReeted wiTh a PicTurE of MY ThIrteen-year-old SELf lyInG unconsCioUs in a hoSpiTal Bed. theRe Are a few moRe photos ThAt ShOw A clOse up OF a gash on My HeaD.

I Can'T help IT. My finGers sLip iNtO mY HaiR and staRT sHAKing WhEn i feeL a rAiSed luMp of SCar Tissue eXactly wheRe tHE picTuReS say it wIll be. Have I nevEr Felt that beFoRe? HOw is thAT Even possIble? Moving the pictures asIDe, I read ThrOugh tHe foRms and scrIbbLy doctOr's NOtes. NoNe of it Makes AnY seNSE.

What CAMpIng TrIp was I on? WhERE waS this RaVine i fell inTo while hiking? Why waSN't I With my parents? wheRe weRE My ParENtS? wheRe WEre THE twins? How did I enD up losing aN eNTiRe two weeks OF meMoRies? The File
 admitted to the hospital? "

Last ti me? T her e w as  onl y on e time. Not su r e wh at this has to do with  anyt hi n g, I gi ve hi m whath ew a nts ."I  wa ss ev en. T heghostshad been g ett in g really har d  t o deal wit h.We were at t hepark w he n a coupl e o f the m trie d  to to uch me. I  a l readyk new wha t th at w as like, so I ran .  I was scared, no t payi ng at t e nti on,  and I ran  r ighti n front of a guy on his bike.His pedal c a ugh t my a rm  an d  torea pre tt y  go od gash init.Plus, I g ot a c o ncussio n ."

Tha t wasthe  wh oleo fit , n ot h ing sp ect a cul ar, butAg en t Mor ton' s f r owndee pens . "Th at's not theinc iden t  Iwas t alkin g ab ou t." H e seem s con fu sed, but he can 't b e nearlyasco nfu se d asI  am.
"Wh atare you  talkin g  ab ou t ? Th at's the only time  I ' v ebeen adm ittedt oth e  hospita l. "
"No, " Agent  Mor t on  says sl owly," yo uwere ad mi tted w he n y ouweret hirt een. T he onlyinjur y  was a cut ony our head from as h or t  fal l,but the psy chol o gica l tr a um a k e pt yo u the re fo r  a week."

I have n oidea w hat h e's talking a bout. "Som e o n e must h aves cr e wed up, becaus e tha t never ha p pened."
Slow ly, Agen t Mortonp u shes a f ile  ac ros s h i s  d esk and tapst h e bl an k manil a f older."Th ere 'snomi stake."
He keeps  h is  e ye  on  me u n til I re ac h a  s hak y han d  forwa rd an d ta ke  t h e f ile. Fo r  a f ew s ec on ds,I j us t sit  the r e s taringat it. No t u n tilKy ra n reach es over and p ut s a hand o nmyshould e r  do I da re make a move. Confusi o n slaps  me  acro ss t he face w hen  I'm g ree t ed wit h a pi cture  o f m y thirt e e n- yea r- old self l y i nguncon sc ious  in a h ospital bed. There are  a few more p hot os t h a tsho w  a clo se upo f  a gash on my h ead.

I ca n' t  h elp it. My fin ge rs slip  into m y hai r  and st art shaki ng when I  f eela rai sed lump o f scar t issue exa c tly w h er e the  pi ctures  s ayit wi ll be. Hav e I n ever f el t that  befo re ? How is  that even possible? Mo ving t he pi ctu res aside , I rea d through  the  forms and  sc rib bly d oct o r's n otes .  N one of it  mak e s any sen s e. 

W h a tcamping tri p w asI on?  Wh e re was  thi s ravine I fell i n to while hikin g? W h y  wa sn' t  I w it h my parents?Whe re w ere my p ar ents? Where  were th et wins?  How d id I e nd up l o s in g  an en tire  tw o weeks o f m em o ries? T he  f i le
 admitted_to the_hospital?"

Last time? There was_only one_time._Not sure_what_this has to_do with anything,_I give him what_he wants. "I_was_seven. The ghosts had been getting really hard to deal with. We were at_the_park when_a_couple_of them tried to touch_me. I already knew what_that was_like, so I ran. I was scared, not_paying_attention, and I_ran right in front of a guy on his_bike. His pedal caught my arm_and tore a_pretty_good_gash in it. Plus,_I got a concussion."

That was the_whole of it, nothing spectacular, but_Agent Morton's frown deepens. "That's not the_incident I was talking about." He_seems confused, but he can't_be nearly_as confused as I am.

"What_are you talking_about? That's_the only time_I've been admitted to the hospital."

"No,"_Agent Morton says_slowly, "you were admitted when you_were_thirteen. The only_injury_was_a cut_on your head_from_a short_fall,_but the psychological trauma kept you_there_for a week."

I have no idea what_he's talking about. "Someone_must_have screwed up, because_that never happened."

Slowly, Agent Morton_pushes a file across his desk_and taps_the blank_manila folder. "There's no mistake."

He keeps his eye on me until_I reach a shaky hand forward_and take the file._For a_few_seconds, I just_sit_there staring_at it. Not until Kyran reaches over_and puts_a hand on my shoulder do_I dare make a_move._Confusion slaps me across the face_when I'm greeted with a picture_of my thirteen-year-old self lying_unconscious_in_a hospital bed. There are_a few more photos that show_a close up_of a gash on my head.

I can't_help_it. My fingers slip into my_hair_and start shaking when I feel_a_raised_lump of scar tissue exactly_where the pictures say it will_be. Have I never felt that before? How is_that even possible?_Moving the pictures aside, I_read_through_the forms and scribbly doctor's notes. None of it makes_any sense.

What_camping trip was_I on? Where was this ravine I fell into while_hiking? Why wasn't I with my parents?_Where were my parents? Where were the twins? How did I_end up losing an entire two weeks of_memories? The file