Shattered (Completed)

Chapter 6 - A Discussion

**(Just FYI, this chapter goes back and forth between Ken(drick) Florence and Alex(andria) Griffon. Ken's gonna be in italics and bold, while Alex will be in normal letters. (Also, thank you so much for reading this!! Whoever you are. It truly means a lot to me.))**

There's a knock on the door. She's back again, and I get to explain why she's in this building and why people should be scared of her. I get to explain everything. And I get to test her. See if what we believe about her is true.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up, plaster a smile across my face, and open the door for her.

I walk in slowly. The man from before was the one to open the door. It makes me relax a little bit, knowing someone I kinda know is here. Knowing I'll be talking to him only.

Inside the room is a square table with two chairs around it. There's a gigantic window, square, going to my knees and up to the ceiling. It makes me realize that we stand high above a city. Which makes me dizzy. I groan and sit in one of the chairs.

She collapses into a chair. It doesn't surprise me that she's dizzy or weak - or both, for all I know - being that she's been asleep for six years. Aria takes a glance at me. Her bright blue eyes study me silently. This silence brings me peace and uncertainty. Of course Aria doesn't remember me, the poor girl. But I remember her.

I suppose I'll remember for the both of us.

Realizing I'm sorta just staring at her, I sit down in the chair across from her. Now she stares at me with a calm yet intimidating gaze. One of the silent-intense ones that she always used to cast me before.

"Hello, Alex," I say quietly, smiling softly.

He seems happy to see me. It also seems as if he hardly notices that I'm dizzy - well, that, or he doesn't care. And maybe I'd just like to think he doesn't notice. I clear my throat. "I'm alive still. After I nearly died again." Should I tell him about the encounter with Evan? Just about the mirror, maybe, or about everything? I don't really want Evan to get in trouble.

A breath escapes me. Whether it's of relief or pain I don't know, but it escapes me. I suppose it's of relief - she's still got that flat humor. And she's still alive.

"You know," she says, looking at me oddly. "You're a confusing man. I can't tell what it is, but there's something about you." The way she looks at me. Hope pounds against my heart. She remembers something, it says. She knows you. Just a little.

He chuckles when I say this. And I guess it is funny, if you're told you're confusing, when really the confusing part is that they don't know how. It would be a lie to say I'm not confused right now. My brain is swirling from the lingering dizziness, and I don't know anything of what's happening. So now I just stare at him, waiting for him to say something to break the silence.

"Alex, you know what we're here to talk about," The smile faintly lingers on my face. "Let's just take it easy, okay? It'll be like old friends talking. Do you want something to drink?" I stand, walk over to the wall. Even if she isn't thirsty, I want coffee.

"Do you have, um, milk and honey?" She says it uncertainly. Poor, poor girl. Yet a fire lights within me. A fire of glee and respect. She remembers what we used to drink on cold winter nights.

She would curl up on my lap. Her black hair was loose. It swung in front of her face, covering her electric blue eyes. She would tell me she was thirsty. It was winter, so we had hot chocolate. But I knew exactly what to get her. She was five at the time, two years before she went into the Cylinder. She had no clue what she would be or what she would do. Neither of us did.

When I brought her the warm milk and honey, she stared down at the creamy liquid. It must have astounded her. Her bright blue eyes looked up at me. "What's this?" she asked. I didn't respond, just smiled and nodded for her to try it. And so she did. With her little five-year-old hands, she pressed the cup to her lips and tilted it back. As she brought it down, she smiled widely. After that she was addicted.

And she remembers faintly. I almost feel like crying.

"Of course," he responds. He presses a hidden button on the wall, says, "Warm milk and honey," to nothing, and then the wall literally opens up. Out comes a glass of steaming milk, hardly tinted yellow. A soft smile is on his face now, as if he's got an inside joke that I don't know. Of course I don't, though, right? I don't remember anything.

Then it hits me. Yes, I do remember something. I remember what milk is. And chocolate. And honey. Other things. All the things I've mentioned, I remember. It astounds me.

Slowly, I hand her the glass of warm and honey. She takes it and hungrily drinks it. When she sets the glass down, having devoured about a third of it, a line of milk skims her top lip. Aria runs her tongue along it, cleaning herself. I get myself coffee, then sit back down.

"So what do you remember? List everything." I sip my coffee and listen as she lists small things we hardly notice are real in our casual life's. Fences. Chocolate. Small things. When she finishes, she shrugs.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Then I ask, "Why am I remembering things? How?" I look up at Mister Florence. Is my gaze too scared? Do I give away the fact that I'm horrified? 

He stares back at me softly. His eyes show pity and sympathy. That isn't what I'm looking for. But it's what he gives. I need to deal with it. "You remember the Downing, right, Alex?" After I nod, he begins his explanation: "The Downing was also something that wiped your memory. With the amounts you were getting, we thought you'd loose your memory for good. But we got your out in time. Now that you're not having any Downing intake, you're remembering things slowly. It'll all come back in due time." Mister Florence adds in a reassuring smile.

She looks so scared.  But I can't really blame her - she's been asleep for six years, she can't remember anything, and she thinks she knows me. I can feel it. She just can't put her finger on it.

There's this vague memory that I know him as I drink the milk. But it's kind of. . . because of the milk. Is it drugged? Nah. But I do know him. I just can't put my finger on it. 

"I want to tell you about your life, Alex," he tells me. Mister Florence sits up in his chair after taking a long sip of his drink. "You need to know this to know what you can do as a Moonhit. You really just need to know why you were in the Cylinder, the events leading up to it. Are you ready?"

"Yes," she replies quickly. "I'm ready."