Zabrina laid on her couch with tons of thoughts on her mind. As the woman who leads the country secondly, she was tired with centuries of memories burdening her mind, both blurry and clear. If you were more than two centuries old, do you think it's easy to be happy with the memories of the dead and the living?
No. Answer is no. The death of her comrades was hard to take to begin with. Remembering their deaths made it hard for her heart to bear. It's not just her best friends that died: family, students, citizens died under her control. It was not that simple. Their faces flashed in her head now and then, pushing her to the edge of her sanity. Their cries of joy, anger, sadness, and help clouded her rational thinking at times.
When she was drowned deeply into her own world, a ray of light will pierce through her bubble of regret. Michael was that light, that flickering light that she would have to grasp before it cut its own wires from shining tirelessly. They were both worn out, and no one knew that they were on the edge of a cliff ready to be pushed off.
She wondered when all this agony will end. She wondered why she was holding this folder of five teenagers that the international government call weapons had the profile of her Highness. Why are teenagers being held up in a school without anyone's knowledge excluding her team? And why is she still alive with the hope of having a normal life?
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Hidden Memories
FantasyA blank doll with acting and action running in her veins, Freia woke up in a hospital with no memory of what brought her there. Sure, the doctors said a car crash delivered her there, but it didn't feel like it. They said her family's dead but how c...
