Where to Start?

There is never a simple story.  What one thing led to another that caused X to happen? ... No, I take that back. There are simple stories -- they just aren't worth repeating.  Maybe I can put down enough of all the fragments of memories swimming around in my head so the reader might have an idea of what happened.  Or maybe so I can, after all this time, have a better understanding of what happened.  Ultimately, this project isn't for the outside reader, but for Heather and me. Why make it public, then?  It already is public.  The world thinks they know what happened.  But I remember reading complete lies in the newspaper.  Things made up by the reporters, mostly based around sex. Why not just tell the story straight?  First, memory doesn't work that way.  I've spent a lot of time trying not to think of these things that have haunted me. It will be hard to bring them back up -- not just hard to remember but hard, emotionally.  Second, some of the small stories might have just a little bit of Heather or me in them, so you learn who we are.  So we remember who we are. Why not jog my memory by reading the true crime books and watching the TV specials, or going over court transcripts?  I'm scared.  I'm really really scared of my past.  I don't want to confront it or even do this blog.  Maybe after working on this blog for a while I will go back and look up times and dates and names.  Until then here is a jumble of my foggy memory.  It won't come out pretty but it will come out.