Meschiya had opened the door of Tabitha's house with her key, she'd close it behind her, took a look around as she listened to the sounds of the place, it seemed no one was home. Meschiya walked towards the kitchen, placed her bag on the table, removed her jacket and hanged it over the chair, she walked towards the fridge, opened it to see if there was anything in there that she liked - her eyes stayed crossed an open wine bottle, a pretty good bottle from french, white and sweet, just the way Mesch liked it. She placed it outside the fridge, grabbed a glass from one of the cabins poored herself a good glass of wine before she'd walk back towards the table with her wine in her hand. she moved the chair, sat down and placed her glass of french wine on the table, before she stared at her bag, she went trough it to tugg out a black leather notebook and a pen.
Slowly she opened it, took a sip of wine before she wrote down her name in a sloppy handwriting with big lushes on the M the H and the L of lane. She skipped a page, took another sip, maybe a date? So, she wrote down in the same curly sloppy handwriting "March 2014" before she really started

"Its weird to remember something and know you remember it. Altho - What you remember doesn't really make any sense.
I remember this street, in the neighborhood of the lower 9 ward in Orleans. I remember my bicyle, i must've been about seventeen years old. My first tattoo's covering my arms, as i was wearing a black T-shirt of the Ramones and ripped jeans with Mary Jane's. My first Mary Jane's. I was planning to go down To royal street, before visiting friends in Treme, since they had been telling me i could've get a second job. I drove down Jourdan Ave, before crossing Marais street, whisteling some Led zeppeling tunes as sun shined on my face. I was fifteen when Katrina hit, and it wasn't really weird for me anymore to drive down these streets, because the damage that once was done in 2005 was still visible in the neighberhood, but you get used to it. People say. Once i drove in the treme area, i somehow felt better, Treme always felt like people were actually trying to rebuild it, slowly but surely, New orleans would become the city it once had been. I arrived at Ursulines Avenue as i ringed my bell when i noticed people i knew, or familiar knew, before i even realized it, i was crossing the road and a car hit me. Everything felt like it just went in slow motion i flew off the seat of my bycicle, fell right over the steer, before my face would hit the ground. I ended up with bruises and a broken nose. My face full of blood from hitting the street, my knees shaky, and everything painful. I don't remember much of that instant moment, but i remember a guy stepping out of the car, people surrounding me more, as i've heard someone calling out if someone could call 911. I shouted out a "no, and i am fine". As the guy that hit me, started talking about inscurences, asking questions if i knew my name and age and where i was, i answered them, slowly, and painful, and asked if they could call my mom. She arrived ten minutes later with one of my smaller foster brothers and before i knew it, i ended up being in the hospital, my nose eventually fixed, some stitches close to my eyebrow, and everything was fine. My bike wasn't, but i didn't really care. My mom had told me, that if i was lucky i could've easily get enough money for the mini van i was saving up for, the reason why i wanted a second job at the first place."

Mesch placed her pen down, sipping more from her wine as she looked over the words, she didn't know why she even remembered this all, but she knew she was remembering, she knew it had been true, because somewhere, it felt more realistic, and familiar than a dream, or something vague in the back of her mind.
It meant, if this was actually a memory, her brain was progressing and more was to come, and that meant, slowly everything would make sense, and she could remember. Remember what happened, remember who she had been, where it had been going wrong and everything in between.

She finished her wine in a few sips, before she'd tugg her black leather book, of memories away in her bag, she would leave it for now, maybe go out to town, her weird memory of getting hit by a car and earning insurence money was something she had to put away from now. She had more of memories, of her family in new orleans, of hathian, of voltiel and tabitha, Jayda even, the girl that had set something up with the blond girl that burried her alive.
Why wouldn't she just remember the whole story why she got shot in the first place, instead a vague bicycle ride.
She put her jacket back on, grabbed her bag and left Tabitha's house, back in town, getting a bottle of gin was something she felt like more than sitting at Tabitha's place overthinking her thoughts.