oh and

my house burned down the day of the car crash.
left the oven on, that's what they think.
it's just an empty skeleton now, no memories, just ash on the inside and burnt wood on the outside.
sort of like me
they've given me a bin today of everything recovered in the fire,
burnt pictures. clothing.
a nice green t-shirt. a white mask i don't remember having, but it was probably for a halloween thing or something.
and one picture, of my and my family in the woods.
strange, i don't remember a tall man standing behind us that day...
but then again, i don't remember most stuff these days
his face
where is his face
Upon my inquiry, they told me that his face was simply blurred out for police reasons
But as I sit here across from it as a type this, it still chills me to the bone.
I'm going to find out what's going on here.
Even if it kills me.

introduction

Hello.
I'm Jeremy Grimmings, or at least that's what they told me my name is.
Ever since the car crash that killed my family, I can't remember anything.
They've payed for my apartment, the shabby room on the bottom floor. Bronxfield Institute, a place for the mentally shaken.
They say this anxiety is normal for victims of amnesia. They say keeping a journal about my life would help me get it back in order.
But for some reason I can't shake the feeling they're hiding something from me.