A/N
Hey friends!
Right. Apology time. I haven't updated in a week. I am so sorry! And I'm also very sorry that it's kinda short. Now I've got the ending sorted out, I can write more.
Also, this is not the end!
Anyway, massive shoutout to Charlie (cookie_dough_cupcake ) for
a) nagging me to update and
b) helping me combine my ideas and come up with the ending.
Check out her stories, they're amazing!
Sorry I've rambled on here. Enjoy!
Kori.
Milla turns the key in the lock, and the door opens. An empty creak fills the silence as it swings on its hinges.
Astrid steps through the door.
No. Stop. I don't want to see.
She takes another step.
Stop, please.
The house is a mess. Sofa cushions, pulled from the couch lie all over the floor. Windows are broken, letting in the cold. Potted plants are upturned, soil all over the carpet, and the leaves are wilted. Cupboards are open, their contents smashed and shards of glass and porcelain plates are everywhere. Splintered wood from furniture covers the floor. When Astrid and her parents were arrested and taken away, the police trashed their house, taking valuable things and breaking everything else. Reliving it is painful in a way Astrid can't understand.
But there's one thing untouched on the mantelpiece. A wooden picture frame.
It's a photograph of Astrid's mother, father, and her brother, Bloom. Looking at the camera, smiling. Happy. Together. Alive.
A pain begins to consume me. Astrid seems fine, thinking it's just a photograph, but I know about the photograph. I remember what happened that day.
I expected what I would see to break me. And I'm beginning to think that I was right.
She walks to the fireplace and picks up the photograph.
No, don't touch it. It makes it worse.
She gently traces the outline of the familiar faces with her finger.
I don't know how much more I can take.
The photograph was taken on the day Bloom died. His parents smiled, unexpecting. They didn't know what would happen later that day. They knew how sick he was; they saw it coming. But not so soon.
The innocent faces hurt me in an unimaginable way. But Astrid just gazes at the photograph oblivious to the memories attached to it, that are destroying me because I am the only one who remembers.
I think this is the end for me. I can't carry on. The things I remember are making me weak, and my weaknesses are making it too difficult.
Astrid doesn't remember a lot of things. She only remembers a few basic things about her family, but not the soul destroying, crushing memories.
She can carry on. But I can't. I am only the small, unimportant voice in her head but I can think and feel separately to her.
And while this is all too much for me, it's fine for Astrid. She can keep on living. She can't be haunted by memories she doesn't have.
What you don't know can't hurt you. And sometimes it's just better not to know.
YOU ARE READING
This Reality
Misterio / SuspensoA psychological story told by the voice in the head of the main character. In a world where fictional works are forbidden, they wake up in the room. They don't know where, or who, or what they are. They meet some people. Some mysterious people. As t...
