Rewriters [Completed]

Lysa: Remembrance

For the longest time, I didn't want to remember. Because I tried to remember, I almost hurt Kaleo, and his terrified look always haunted me since.

"Then why did you change your mind? I don't understand."

It was that strange voice again, speaking in a soft, familiar tone. It sounded as though I was talking to myself, trying to confirm my decision.

I thought back to Helen's words. Like me, she didn't want to remember, until she almost lost it all, along with the good memories. With her words, I caught a slight glimpse of my past, and I realised I wanted more.

I want to remember.

"... are you sure?"

I wasn't sure then. But I was sure now.

"Even if remembering hurts?"

I closed my eyes. It does hurt to remember, sometimes so vivid that it felt that I was experiencing those bad memories again. It hurt because I thought I was facing them alone again.

But I wasn't alone anymore.

Kaleo said it. Julia too.

After what Julia said to us, my mind became clear. Even if it hurts...

It's what I want, I told the voice in my thoughts.

There was a long pause.

"Okay, I'll grant it." For some reason, I thought I saw a glimpse of a person in front of me, smiling sadly.

"I'll grant your wish."

••••

"Want to join us? We are playing catching."

I looked up from my book and took a nervous peak at the person who invited me. It was the girl from next door.

To her question, I shook my head.

"You don't want to play with us?" someone else asked. "It will be fun!"

I knew I shouldn't have accepted, but watching the other kids play among themselves made me aware of how lonely I was. I desperately wanted some kind of connection then.

But I wasn't prepared for the consequences.

Barely two minutes into the game, my lungs couldn't take it and I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. As panic set in, the other kids surrounded me, asking frantically whether I was okay, which only made it worse.

I passed out and was sent to the hospital. When I regained consciousness to the smell of antiseptic and a sickening cleanliness, I started panicking again, thrashing in the bed wildly.

The nurses held me down to stop me from hurting myself as I cried for my parents to take me out of that place. They could only give me pained looks, telling me that it was for my own good before I fell unconscious again.

It happened again. And again.

So much so that it felt like I was in the hospital longer than outside of it, and my condition only got progressively worse.

One night, after Mum tucked me into bed, I heard her crying. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, unaware that I was awake. "I'm sorry for not giving you a stronger body."

Why are you saying that? It's my fault for running when you told me not to. It's my fault for staying in that dusty place when I could have left.

It's my fault.

When I ended up in the hospital again, I poured out my feelings to her.