The Nemesis Syndrome

25. Eliza

She woke to the smell of pancakes. The sun was shining outside her purple curtains, and she could hear the murmured voices of her parents on the floor below.

This isn't right. The thought nagged at her as she sat up, but she looked around the room to see everything in its place; a book open on the floor, cover up, spine cracked.

She reached for it and glanced at the cover- whatever the title was it slipped past her and the threw the book aside again.

'Liza?' Her father called up the stairs. 'If you don't come down in the next minute, there will be no pancakes left!'

She grinned. They only ever had pancakes on special occasions, and though she couldn't remember what today was, it must have been one.

She bounded down the stairs and slid into the kitchen. Pancakes on the table, her mother and father sat around it, and still her brain was chanting to her

Not right not right not right

Everything looked perfect though, and for a second her eyes slid past her parents to survey the room around her.

Clearly, she was going crazy, and it was only confirmed when she told her mind to be quite.

First sign of madness and all that.

'Sit down.'

She did, and as her mother pushed the food onto her plate, Eliza felt so choked up on emotion she could barely breathe. So much guilt and pain and god how she missed them.

But she couldn't understand why.

'What are we celebrating?' Eliza asked.

Her parents glanced at each other. 'You don't know?'

'Obviously not.'

A half laugh from her mother. 'Then why don't you pick something?'

Not right. Eliza glanced down at her hands; her bands were not there this morning, but the black ink she was used to was still on her wrists, but unreadable, smudged.

She thought she knew the name that was meant to be there, but it was just out of reach. She wanted to say she knew him, but the image escaped when she tried to grab it.

Not right

Eliza brushed it off and fell into silence, not wanting any more reason to let the odd feeling in her head grow.

Then:

'Shouldn't you be at work, dad?' She asked, glancing up at the clock above the oven. Quarter past nine....though she swore it said that when she came in.

'So I should.' He stood, reaching over to kiss her mother then hug her. 'See you both later.'

And then he was gone. Literally. Between one blink and another, he had disappeared. Eliza was pretty sure she didn't hear the door shut.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong.

'I'm... going to go out.' Eliza whispered, feeling cold all over.

'You're not even dressed yet!'

So she wasn't- how did she even forget that? She ran up the stairs and threw on the first thing she could find- an old blue dress that she thought she had thrown out last year.

She called out a farewell to her mother as she opened the front door.

And then she stopped.

The sun was shining outside, or so she thought from her room. But it wasn't the sun, it was....everything. There was nothing beyond the front step, nothing but white mist that looked like a cloud.

'Mum?' It was a whisper, but her mother was suddenly at her side.

And now she knew what her brain had been telling her.

Wrong wrong wrong

When she tried to look at her mother, her eyes slid past. The more she tried to focus, the harder it was, the more faded her mother looked.

Eliza didn't often feel fear. Not the heart stopping, shaking kind. She wasn't scared of spiders, or heights or pain. But her mind was playing tricks on her and it terrified her.

What couldn't she remember- and why? And where was everyone- where was she?

'Where's dad?'

The thing that was not quite her mother frowned; Eliza watched out of the corner of her eye, realising all unseen things happened there. Then the woman frowned, glancing down at her wrists.

One should have been red, the other black. One for nemesis, and one to hold her fathers name.

But both wrists were covered in smudged red ink.

'No.' Eliza whispered, backing away from the open door and her mother. 'No. He was here, he was...'

But this wasn't real.

'A dream.' Eliza whispered. It would explain so much. She ran back up stairs and threw herself onto her bed, closing her eyes.

If she fell asleep in a dream, she would wake up normally. Wherever she was meant to be- even if she was struggling to remember her own name, let alone what was happing outside of her head.

She slept.

She woke to the smell of pancakes. The sun was shining outside her purple curtains, and she could hear the murmured voices of her parents on the floor below.

This isn't right. The thought nagged at her as she sat up, but she looked around the room to see everything in its place; a book open on the floor, cover up, spine cracked.

She reached for it and glanced at the cover- whatever the title was it slipped past her and the threw the book aside again.

You've done this before. Her brain whispered.

'Liza?' Her father called up the stairs. 'If you don't come down in the next minute, there will be no pancakes left!'

She went to stand up, then stopped.

On the wall next to her bed were scratches, lines of four crossed out by a fifth.

You've done this before. Her brain shouted. Dream dream nightmare dream.

Wake up wake up wake up.

But whenever she woke it was to more starches and no way out, and every time she slept she felt like she was forgetting more of herself.