The House of Empty Memories

TW: Implied childhood trauma and parental neglect.

Claudia stamped her feet, trying to rid herself from the cold of the frostbitten air. Her hands were shoved deep within the pockets of her coat as she waited for the agent to unlock the front door of the old weatherbeaten house. She wished she'd thought to bring her gloves and scarf.

"Place looks pretty abandoned." The agent tried at small talk while he jiggled the lock.

"Uh-huh." She didn't need to look over the rotting planks of the veranda, the cobwebbed windows to know that the house was in severe disrepair. Her mother had never been very good at keeping house. Even when she was sober.

At last with squealing hinges the door swung open to reveal a dark hallway.

"Here you go." The agent said, gesturing to the house beyond. "Give us a ring when you need it locked up." He gave an awkward half-smile before shuffling off the veranda and returning to the warmth of his BMW. She watches as he pulls out onto the road, driving away to whatever appointments would fill his day.

Claudia took a steadying breath before turning back to the dark interior and stepping inside, shutting the door behind her. It wasn't much warmer inside the house than out.

She flicked on a dingy overhead light and went in search of the thermostat. Locating it in the kitchen she tried fiddling with the ancient dial only to quickly give up after it let out several unhelpful sounds. With a sigh she looked around, a mountain of mouldering dishes stacked in the sink and a pile of unopened bills on the counter. That explained the lack of heat, the gas had been shut off. She goes over and tries the tap. No water either. At least her mother had managed to pay the last electricity bill. Probably so she could keep up with her TV addiction.

It was strange to be back in her childhood home. Claudia hadn't been near the place since she was twelve. She only returned now after a lawyer showed up at her city apartment one morning to inform her that her mother had died. She was officially an orphan after being without her parents for fifteen years.

She had no family left now. It was down to her, and her alone to clean up the shit hole her mother had called home and get it ready to sell. There was no chance in hell Claudia would actually live in the place. Looking around she very much doubted anyone would want to live in it.

She begins to wander through the rooms, starting in the lounge. The whole room smelt of old cigarettes. As her hand brushed over the back of a dusty armchair she had the distinct memory of her mum reclined in the chair, chain-smoking with one hand, holding some sort of liquor bottle in the other, un-noticing of her child trying to figure out how to make food edible in the kitchen.

Claudia shook herself of the memory, continuing to move throughout the house, unfeeling. She held no attachment to this stack of wood and brick with it's water-stained walls and crumbling plaster.

The ancient stair creaked underfoot as she began to climb to the second floor, dust clouds puffing up around her with every step. She made a brief pause, hand on the bannister, as she looked across the landing at the room that had once been hers. Tentatively she takes a few steps forward, stumbling over a patch of uprooted carpet.

Upon entering the tiny bedroom she was surprised to find that it looked exactly the same as she remembered. Pink curtains, Barbie themed bedspread, walls painted with brightly coloured flowers.

A thick layer of dust was present across every surface. It made Claudia wonder if her mother had even been in the room since she'd been taken away.

Claudia picked up a doll that had been left on the floor. Unbidden, a memory came flooding into her mind.

She, no older than five, sitting cross-legged on the floor, happily playing. She remembers the slamming of a door followed by shouts of argument. She doesn't remember the words, only the noise as her parents verbally battled. The door slammed again and then silence.

She lets out a shiver, allowing herself to believe that the cold was responsible rather than the memory. Claudia's gaze traversed the room her eyes landing on her old teddy-bear sat in the centre of her bed. She goes over to it, picking it up, the fur no longer soft but mattered with dust and age. She remembers cuddling in bed with it when her mum had come in to say that her dad wasn't going to come home anymore. She remembers the tears trickling down her mum's cheek, the flash of red and blue lights, a police woman hovering in the doorway.

On her way to school the next day she'd seen her dad's car squashed against a light-post. Crumpled like a soda can.

After that day everything had gone to hell.

Claudia tosses the bear back onto the bed, suddenly angry. She makes her way downstairs and back into the kitchen. She searches through drawers and cupboards until she finds a roll of garbage bags. She tears one off and starts stuffing it full of everything she could find.

Her mum's old collection of antique saucers. Gone. The stack of 80's CD's. Gone. Food, plates, cutlery, utensils. Gone.

Claudia wanted nothing left of the past she had fought so hard to escape left behind. Rage and sadness and grief fuelled her.

She left her bedroom until last. Only hesitating briefly before she began to purge the room of memories. Dolls, bears, books, clothes, all were stuffed into a garbage bag. All the things she hadn't been able to take with her into her new life. A small voice in the back of her mind questioned if she shouldn't keep some of it. That voice was quickly squashed. She didn't have time for nostalgia. Didn't want any evidence of her childhood left.

Eventually she had run out of garbage bags. Piles of crap clumped together in the hall.

She had no energy to continue.

Sending a quick text to the agent she returned to the world outside, climbing into her little second-hand Mazda, she starts the engine, revelling in the growing warmth as she turns up the temperature.

As she drove off down the gravel drive and onto the lonely street she decided never to return. Never to think upon her past. It was as dead to her as her parents.