Story cover for Drowning In The Memory Drain by Keid201
Drowning In The Memory Drain
  • WpView
    Reads 77
  • WpVote
    Votes 0
  • WpPart
    Parts 16
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 38m
  • WpView
    Reads 77
  • WpVote
    Votes 0
  • WpPart
    Parts 16
  • WpHistory
    Time 2h 38m
Ongoing, First published May 19, 2020
He breathed out a little laugh, "I like you." His voice was quiet and simple.

I couldn't react any slower, "You do?" I had stepped closer then I remembered, and placed myself back to my ground before he could answer.
"But you don't remember me. Nothing, at all about me. Gosh, why?" 

I whispered the previous question to myself, he may have heard as I noticed him try to reach out before he pulled away too. My heart pounding like I might faint, and I just might. This is enough. 

"I've said everything I know about you, about us. You deny-having your own life even when I told you that you disappeared from me and I know you know that it's true. Don't bother remembering, I'm tired of everything about you. I wish I never knew you or had any memory of that face." I'm tired of your Goddamn face; wish I could say that to you, but what's the point in hurting someone back, as if it would help with the after feeling that you love-loved them.

Esca White and Sonny Harris are best friends and the world knows it. They are very uneasy with the newfound love they have for each other, in which everyone sees it but what do they do? Join the adventure of how they may destroy or build upon their bond. Fate brings them together but life has different tragic plans in store. Will fate win these two over or will life continue to be oblivious to their love?
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In a quiet, misty district of Himachal Pradesh, in a small orphanage called Sparsh Ashram, lived a fragile, gentle girl named Ishara. Her eyes held a quiet innocence, untouched by the harshness of the world, yet shadowed with a deep, unspoken sorrow. When she was only four, her stepfather-the one who had once called her his life-had left her. He discovered she was the product of her mother's betrayal, and in his heartbreak, he turned away. Since then, Ishara had grown up in the soft, lonely halls of the orphanage, her heart tender, her spirit delicate, carrying a pain that even time could not erase. At fifteen, she was still small, almost like a fragile bird in a vast, unkind sky-beautiful, innocent, and quietly brave. .................................................................................................... ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨