Killing Death

Chapter | 5 | Forget Me Not

Excruciating pain.

It was the only way to describe what I was feeling. What started as a sting, prickling every inch of my mind, soon became an unbearable itch, one I wanted to desperately scratch.

I heard myself let out a scream, but my body laid numb. The world around me quickly darkened, until all I could do was merely visualize the pain seeping into my skull. It felt as though every single pore on my head was being zapped with a piercing shot of electrical currents.

And then, like before, I found myself back in that hallway, walking down the row of doors. Only this time, I wasn't looking at myself from above. Instead, I was seeing everything through my own eyes. I kept walking until I reached the last door. The one with the first tragic memory sealed away, of the series that followed.

The moment I stopped in front of it, the door flung open to reveal a swirling black hole. Fragments of the suppressed memory flashed before my eyes in rapid speed. Before I could make sense of what I was seeing, it sucked me into its core, and just as quickly spit me out.

Everything was happening so fast.

As I staggered to regain my balance, I was greeted by a familiar sight—my old bedroom. It stood untouched in all its glory, looking exactly the way I remembered it, from each and every angle, down to the last detail.

It's not real, I reminded myself. It's just a memory. It's not real. It's not real.

But it felt so real.

My eyes roamed the area, trying to find something that may have been out of place. There had to have been a reason I was here. The queen-sized bed was still centered against the largest wall of the room. A large white colored shag rug stretched out from under it. I'd strategically placed it there to keep myself warm against the gray hardwood floors during the colder months. Smaller pieces the same fuzzy carpet were dispersed around the room, one near the entrance, one under the giant bay windows covered by long ash drapes, and one under my black computer table.

I continued my search, scanning everything from the small chandelier in my room, to the black-rimmed wall clock that indicated it half past eleven at night.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Why was I here?

Suddenly, the door to my room creaked open and my body jerked to a halt.

"Alora, you awake?"

I knew that voice. I missed that voice. And immediately I knew why I was in my room. The details that were once hazy were crystal-clear.

Faeva told me to remember, and I was remembering. It was like watching a playback, only I was seeing the world from the eyes of my seventeen-year-old self.

Which meant, I'd completely lost control over my body—and my voice. The only thing I had left of my current self were my thoughts.

The door soon fully swung open to reveal the beautiful blonde with sparkling brown eyes. She wore a short, pink nightgown, revealing her long, lean legs.

Emma! My mind shouted in glee. I wanted to wrap my hands around her, squeeze and never let go. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, and how sorry I was, but my body wouldn't budge.

It's a memory. It's not real.

I knew what I had to do. I had to give in, shut my mind off and let it play out the way it was supposed to—to stop the mental torture. I had to. But could I?

My next movement was mechanical, nearly robotic. I fell backwards onto my bed and closed my eyes. Like magic, my duvet was suddenly wrapped around my body.