Some memories aren't meant to be revived.
Especially when they're lurking in the deceitful creases and folds of the treacherous night.
*extended summary inside*
nick stared at the discarded, crumpled shirt that he had laid out on the table.
it was the shirt he had worn on the night Miriam went missing.
he took water and soap and scrubbed the shirt.
he leant over the table, viciously scrubbing and wiping the shirt. all of his pent up emotions came tumbling out like he was opening an overstuffed suitcase.
all these cramped, crammed in emotions were leaking from his eyes. unintelligible sounds leaked from his mouth as his hands became red raw from the force of scrubbing the shirt.
finally, he lifted up the shirt to inspect it. the wine stain still remained. the wine stain that he was sure came from Miriam's lips. but now he wasn't sure. had it been from Miriam's wine glass? this huge spot of red that appeared to of stretched over the fabric.
no, maybe that was wrong. surely he'd gotten it wrong.
this stain was from the berries they'd consumed at the party? right?
a kaleidoscope of memories flitted through his mind, of them picking berries and of them kissing heatedly in the car and of them drowning in wine and eternal love.
but that eternal love feels like a deja vu he's experienced from a past life; something that leaves a bitter aftertaste and a ghost of longing on his lips.
he doesn't think the stain is from wine, or berries, or berry stained lips, or even wine stained lips.
an ominous jigsaw piece clicks in to the puzzle of his brain.
his paper heart flutters and slowly disintegrates from the burning flame of a memory.
he remembers blood.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
