Memoria (Memory)

Mind Destroyer: Memoria (Memory)

It is suffocating. The darkness. It is everywhere. Like thick, black ink, it bleeds into my skin, into my throat, into my heart, into my brain, through my eyes. Everywhere. I cannot see. I cannot breathe. I am alone somewhere, drowning. I am afraid.

And as slowly as the ink seeped into my body, a blue light flickers to life from nowhere and burns the blackness away, bathing everything in a deep glow. I am no longer floating but held in a stiff position on a bed. There is a glass wall before me; behind it are a row of cabinets and a door.

I close my stinging, watering eyes. The blue is so intense that it hurts. It is worse than the darkness. It cuts deep into my flesh and burns through my veins in a swift electric current. It almost tickles but in an unpleasant way.

I hear voices. They are muffled and inaudible. I try to understand them without success.

 

 

There is movement. I open my eyes in surprise. The bed jerks and begins to slide backward under a smooth white arch. I reach up to touch the plastic in fascination. My fingers press against the surface; it’s cold.
Suddenly there is a brilliant flash, more suffocating and intense than the darkness or even the blue light. A bolt of electricity violently bursts and tears through me from the inside out. Every muscle cramps, screaming with pain. I want to shield my eyes but I can’t move my arms. I want to cry out but I can’t open my mouth. I want to disappear and my wish comes true. 

 

 

I opened my eyes. I gave them a moment to adjust to the blinding light and my brain a moment to take in and register the blurry mess of surrounding objects. It wasn’t until I suddenly recognized the rough material under me as carpet that I realized I wasn’t in my bed.

I jerked up on my knees immediately. The back of my head throbbed dully and the muscles in my arms and legs felt cramped and stiff, as if I had been lying on them all night. I stood on wobbly knees and made my way to one of the plush beige chairs, lowering into it cautiously.

This morning, I was more tired than usual. Perhaps I was so tired because I spent the night on the floor. Or maybe it was the dream. Vivid pictures still stained my memory, flashing in my mind and popping up, so clear and sharp that they must have been real. I’d never had a dream like this before. It was like comparing two photographs, one of which was submerged in murky water; both were clear enough to see, but all the details were sharper in the second photo. Things are different now, I reminded myself bitterly.

My life had never been normal. At age nine, or maybe ten–I couldn’t be entirely sure–I remembered being taken into the desert by a woman who I assumed to be my mother. She took me inside a small office and left me with a man I didn’t know. For one week, I was a human guinea pig. After the last test had finally been performed I was given a room.

And then, as if all of the memories of my past had been extracted from my brain, I no longer cared where I was or what happened to me. I was happy with my new life and that was all that mattered. My room had a bookcase filled with fascinating novels, a fancy wardrobe, plush beige chairs, a glass table, a comfortable bed, and pretty, unique decorations. Every day a nice woman named Midge came in to talk to me. I was fed on a normal basis. Nothing could possibly have been wrong with this life. However, things changed for me in the later years.

As I grew older, my fondness of this place grew weaker. I soon found myself becoming very bored with the atmosphere of the room and my repetitive lifestyle. Though I was constantly given new books to read, all of them were the same. Everything was flat and dull. And as my interest in my new home died down, so did my satisfaction.

I didn’t understand why I didn’t care about my childhood or why it didn’t occur to me before that I should. I didn’t understand how I had managed to be so happy despite being miles and miles away from my true home.

I didn’t understand how I could forget the feeling of rain trickling down my face like tears, or the feel of the blazing sun scorching my back on a summer day, the perfect, cloudless cerulean skies that stretched on forever in all directions. Yes, something was definitely wrong and I needed to know what was wrong with me. So I asked Midge.

***

 

***

“Hello, Lacey. How are we this morning? How did you sleep?”
Midge smiled pleasantly as she quickly dropped into the chair across from mine, locking eyes with me immediately. I smiled back, only to be polite. My stomach was churning already; her cheery attitude and staring eyes weren’t helping.

“I’m well,” I responded, self-consciously aware of every syllable I pronounced. “I had a nice sleep.” Midge nodded as if she expected me to say more. “What about you?” I added to kill the awkward atmosphere that had already formed. Midge folded her hands in her lap.

“The same,” I already knew the question she was about to ask and reluctantly interrupted her before she could continue with our usual routine.

“Midge?” I began. She closed her half-open mouth and raised her brows. “Before we continue… I’ve been having–some feelings that I was–curious about.” Finding the right words was difficult. My voice came out small and squeaky. Midge frowned. “You see, I’ve never really cared that I’m here. And I like it, but… I can’t recall anything of my childhood.”

Her first response was a pained expression, as if she had bit her tongue. I could only stare into her blue-grey eyes as she searched her mind for an answer.

I had always thought Midge was pretty, with long black hair that hung in thick curls, gentle features, and glasses that only complimented them.

Fighting to keep her expression from changing, she cleared her throat, and said in an almost-whisper, “I don’t know what to tell you. I really don’t know how to explain.” My shoulders sagged with disappointment, but she wasn’t finished. “But I will tell you this; I have talked to several other kids your age and you’re not the first one to–have this issue. It fades with time.”

I cringed and bit my lip, dismayed. I wanted to know more, but Midge was a stubborn woman when it came to questions and answers; she never said anything she didn’t mean, and never said anything she didn’t want to. “Sorry I asked,” I mumbled under my breath. Midge’s expression softened a little.

“It’s all right, Lacey. You will be fine.” There was a moment of silence until finally Midge spoke again.

“So. What did you dream about last night?” she asked. Though I had been expecting it, her question caught me off guard. What would she say when I told her about the dream? Wouldn’t she just ask me about it and forget it later like always? I wanted to talk about it but something deep inside of me told me I shouldn’t. I gulped.

“I can’t remember my dream,” I lied. I couldn’t have chosen a lamer excuse.

Midge looked surprised. “Really?” she asked. I nodded. “That’s a little strange. You don’t usually forget these things. Well, I guess I can’t be one to talk. I don’t remember mine, either.” Midge chuckled and I laughed with her. Her light, gentle laughter eased some of the tension. The tension returned moments later.

“Lacey, how–how often do you think about your childhood?” she asked casually. I answered without thinking.

“All the time,” I blurted. It was a relief to share my feelings with someone. But Midge clearly wasn’t comfortable with this subject; there was something she wasn’t telling me.

“Please elaborate.”

 

 

“I want to know what it was like for me before I came here, is all. It doesn’t seem natural to me that I should suddenly have forgotten everything.” Midge nodded like she understood, but I could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t.

 

 

She suddenly took her eyes off me and glanced back at the clock. It read 8:35. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was a little late this morning. Its breakfast time, isn’t it?” she said. I shrugged. I never really paid any attention to the time.

“I suppose it is,” I replied. Midge immediately stood and left the room, leaving me in silence. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

 

 

She returned after fifteen long minutes carrying an omelet and a can of juice and placed them atop the table before me. “Wow,” I commented, smiling. I hadn’t tasted eggs in so long. I instantly grabbed my fork and yanked off a large chunk, shoving it into my mouth hungrily. It tasted incredible, with just the right amount of cheese and seasoning. Just the way I had always liked it…

 

 

“Tell me,” Midge began. “What images and thoughts come to mind when you eat that?” I groaned inwardly and glanced up at her for the first time since she’d given me the omelet.

“It tastes just like I remembered it,” I muttered in defeat. There was no point in trying to avoid her questions anymore. Clearly, I was being tested. “I remember eating eggs a lot when I was a kid.” I swallowed the last bit of omelet, set down the plate, and reached for the juice. The flavor was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar at the same time that it took me by surprise; it was bitter, sweet, and tangy.

 

 

“Now you tell me, Midge; why do you do this?” I said sharply. She raised one eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“You never completely answer my questions about my past, and then you ask me questions about my past and I have no choice but to answer them.” She didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at me.

 

 

Instead, she scooted forward in her chair, and grabbed the empty can and plate. “Answers will come soon. That’s all I can say.” With that, she stood and walked to the door. “I have a lot of work to do today, so I need to head out early. Have a nice day.” As she walked out the door, I noticed a thick stack of gray papers fall and hit the floor. I wanted to jump up and tell her but by the time I was on my feet; the door was closed and locked.

 

 

I quickly made my way over to the papers. I picked them up curiously and scanned my eyes over the front page. This could be private, I mentally scolded myself, turning the paper over. On the other side, scribbled in dark blue, was a list of instructions. And it was addressed to me.

 

 

“Lacey,” it read. “1. Put these papers in your shirt. 2. Go into the bathroom. 3. Get in shower, close curtain. KEEP YOUR BACK TURNED TO THE CLOCK AND MIRROR!!! 4. Open to first page. 5. After you read message run water over papers until they dissolve.” I shook my head at her crazy instructions, wondering how the clock and letter had anything to do with me.

 

 

Regardless, I took the papers and awkwardly stuffed them into my shirt. It left uneven, sharp bumps that poked up from underneath. If she wanted me to keep them hidden, I wasn’t doing a very good job. When they were secured inside, I slipped into the bathroom, turning around at the last second so that my back was facing the mirror but the front of my body could no longer be seen, blocked by the door. Then I stepped into the shower, jerked the yellow curtain closed, and began to read.

 

 

“Lacey,

I understand that you will be confused, and I know that you will have questions, but I need you to understand that I am only trying to protect you. I am going to tell you something, and you must never tell anyone about it. It could endanger your life.

You are being watched. There are cameras and microphones hidden in every room of this complex. Every child has a clock and a mirror. That’s where the cameras are hidden, and that’s why I told you to keep your back turned to them.”

 

 

“You are not like most others, Lacey. You are a danger to the world, a threat, and we have been trying to keep you and so many others hidden from society for years. But things have changed. The people running this program are doing things that they shouldn’t be. You are no longer safe here. I am sending someone to find you very soon. They will explain to you what I have not.

We cannot discuss this during our next session, or any session, really. You HAVE to keep this a secret. Only the one I send for you can know.

I wish I did not have to do this to you. Until things are sorted out and you are safe again, good luck. And remember, they’re watching you. Be safe.

Midge Lattering.”

 

 

I dropped the papers to the floor of the tub, climbed out, and yanked the left handle counter-clockwise as far as it would go, as if washing the paper away would wash the words away too. In minutes, the paper was gone, leaving behind only small, gray fibres.

At the moment it was impossible for me to take in everything Midge had told me. I fully understood every word she had written, but my mind had no emotional response to any of it. I didn’t know how to feel.

 

 

That night I didn’t sleep until four AM. The clock wouldn’t stop staring at me.

***

 

 

***

Midge rested her head on the table, feeling a combination of anger, worry, and exhaustion. She was in Meeting Room B; no one would bother her there, since meetings were only held once every week and the room wasn’t used for other purposes.

It was too late to go back to the room and retrieve the letter. It was too late to take back the words she had written. Yet she knew that Lacey’s potential was too much to waste. She needed to know. But if Midge had done the right thing, then why did she feel so guilty?

 

 

The door creaked open. Midge didn’t bother to raise her head to whoever was approaching. “Who died?”

She instantly recognized Amelia’s voice and sighed. “I’m just very tired.”

Amelia snorted. “You say that every time. This is probably the fifteenth time I’ve caught you dozing off during work hours. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Midge sighed inwardly. Amelia was more skeptical and sarcastic than some of the teenagers she had worked with and equally irritating.

 

 

Amelia walked swiftly to the table. She pulled out a chair and sat down, waiting expectantly for Midge’s answer. “I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was tired, Amy,” she said, making certain to keep her tone steady so that her thick-headed co-worker wouldn’t mistake it for playfulness.

 

 

“Well… You’re always tired. Maybe you should, I don’t know, take a little break? You have fifteen vacation days. Why not put a few of them to good use and take a rest?” Midge normally would have brushed off any idea from Amy. Then she considered her current situation. Lacey was stubborn as a mule and as curious and inquisitive as a six year-old at times. She was bound to have thousands of questions by their next session. I told her we couldn’t discuss this, she remembered.

 

 

Whether out of true desire or selfish fear, Midge agreed; she did need a break. “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed finally after a long moment. Amy seemed surprised, taken aback by her reply.

“You’re seriously agreeing with me on something? Next thing I know, it’ll start raining bricks,” she joked. Midge gave a half-smile.

“Really, I think you’re right.”

 

 

Amy leaned back in her chair and remained silent for a few moments until she found an excuse to continue the conversation. “So, what’s, uh–what’s bothering you?” she asked. “I mean, there has to be something that’s making your job harder.”

“Just… dealing with all these hormonal adolescents.” Amy laughed.

 

 

“Teens are a pain, aren’t they?” Midge nodded in agreement. She had nothing else to say. Amy suddenly stiffened, stood, and sat down beside her. “Adrian should be here soon. He’ll get mad if I take his spot again.” Midge suddenly remembered what day it was; Thursday. Thursday was meeting day. Time flies when you’re stressing out, she thought, her brain still foggy from the half-nap she had tried to take.

 

 

Amy’s expression changed quickly from playful to serious. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good. Maybe you’re sick? Or maybe–“

“For the last time, I’m just tired,” Midge snapped. Amy frowned, as if surprised that Midge would be bothered by her persistence.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. Then Adrian arrived.

 

 

With a genuine smile, he took a seat in front of Midge. Before either of them could greet each other, Amy interrupted in her high-pitched voice, “Aid, you didn’t take your usual spot!” Adrian chuckled.

Amy didn’t seem to bother him, but Midge decided it made sense. They were siblings, but they may as well have been clones, just of the opposite sex. There wasn’t a thing they didn’t agree on. They had the same caramel skin, same dark hair, and same deep, brown eyes, though Amy’s were a little darker. The only differences were in their features and Adrian was more peaceful and calm. He was also more intelligent; one of the main reasons Midge preferred his company to his sister’s.

 

 

James came only thirty seconds behind Adrian. James, Midge’s older brother, was the most serious of their group. That was most likely the reason he had been put in charge. He and Midge were nearly identical in terms of appearance, but unlike Adrian and Amelia, their personalities were very different. James had been responsible and serious since childhood, while Midge was quiet and obedient. She was a useful tool, doing what she needed when she was needed and following orders in silence. That is, up until the past few weeks.

 

“Good evening, everyone,” James greeted. A smile rested on his usually somber face and his eyes were wide open and bright. Midge wondered how he always had so much energy and why he was in such a good mood today.

 

 

 

“How is everyone?” he asked, too cheerfully. Midge groaned mentally as she found the reason for his cheery mood. James was warming them up and easing any tension to prevent future arguments; he had bad news to share with them.

“Good,” each of them replied more-or-less simultaneously. James decided to begin the meeting with a little small talk, asking light and simple questions, but Midge wasn’t paying attention to anything. Her stomach felt cold and slightly nauseated. Maybe she really was getting sick.

 

 

“Now, onto more serious matters…,” James began after a few minutes. “I–wait… Where’s Mike?” It seemed that everyone had forgotten Michael. Michael was a quiet man who’d been given a position in their group just over a month ago. Most of the time he remained silent during their meetings, speaking only when he was addressed or when he had a strong opinion about something.

“I saw him earlier at lunch,” Amy said, frowning. James rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, allowing some of his hidden aggravation to show.

“Never mind, let’s just start. Now, as all of you know, we’re having quite an issue with some of our teenage patients.”

 

 

“Midge, would you please explain to us the sort of issues your patients are experiencing?” Midge hated the way he referred to them as patients. They weren’t sick, just–different.

“They seem to have difficulty remembering their childhoods. No, that’s not it… It’s that they want to remember their childhoods and they’re not supposed to.” James pursed his lips and glared at his fingers for a few seconds.

 

 

“Why do you think that is?” he asked her, finally looking up. She shrugged weakly, praying silently that she wouldn’t slip up and give anything away.

“They’re teenagers. Teenagers are hormonal, and easily stressed, and–“

“Not what I meant.”

“They aren’t stupid; they know how to think for themselves. Even large doses of anti-depressants won’t stop them from having their own thoughts and opinions. And as you know, most teens go through a rebellious phase.”

 

 

“What about Tracy? I mean, didn’t you say she was acting really strange lately?” Amelia chimed in.

“Her name is Lacey,” Midge corrected, “and yes, she has been behaving strangely. She’s depressed. She mentions home quite often though she doesn’t seem to realize it.”

 

 

“Perhaps the drugs only work on children?” Adrian suggested.

“That’s definitely a possibility,” Amy agreed, snapping her fingers. James shook his head.

“That’s not it. We brought in a child of only four years. She’s seventeen now and we haven’t had any problems with her whatsoever. Midge, I think you’re right. It has to do with their level of intelligence.”

 

 

“So maybe we should just stop taking children over the age of ten?” Amy said. Midge fought the urge to scowl.

“What would we do about them? We can’t just leave them to discover their powers on their own,” Midge argued.

“And we can’t let them figure out the truth.”

 

 

James made a face and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Midge suddenly knew that this was what he had been getting at from the beginning. She shook her head violently back and forth and slammed her hands against the hard wooden surface of the table.

“You’re not thinking of killing them… We can’t do that.” Her voice broke and weakened as she said “killing”.

“The state has given us permission to do whatever we want with them. You aren’t getting attached to your patients, are you?” Midge had started shaking her head halfway through his sentence, big mistake. “What’s going on between you and your patients?” Bingo. He’d figured it out.

 

 

Thankfully Adrian, being the peacemaker he was, jumped in before James could push any further. “Killing is wrong and you know it,” he snapped. “If there’s something wrong with anyone, it’s you. We aren’t killing anyone.”

“Who do you think you are to have the authority to make that decision?” James growled in response.

“I’m nobody,” he admitted. “But I know for a fact that the state would never allow this.”

 

“What they don’t know can’t hurt them,” James replied darkly.

 

 

Midge gasped in surprise. “James, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he hissed. “You don’t understand; none of you do. These people are dangerous. What happens if we lose control of them? What happens if they lose control of themselves?”

“They haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

 

Midge was interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open. Into the room stumbled a young teenage girl with short blonde hair. She wore a green worker’s uniform; a stolen uniform. Her hands had been bound behind her back. Michael forced his way in after her, panting heavily. He stepped back, glaring. “I found this in the examination room,” he said, gesturing to the girl. She squirmed as if trying to get out of the cuffs. Her name was Alyssa. She was one of the newer patients, taken at seventeen. Midge personally thought she would have been better off in prison.

“Let me go, you bastards!” she screeched.

 

 

Michael quickly grabbed her arms to hold her still. She stiffened at his touch and gritted her teeth. Suddenly, Michael released her and stumbled backward into the wall. He moaned. Everyone at the table stood immediately but recoiled, afraid to be near Alyssa.

 

 

She glared down at Michael, who was now on the floor, clutching his head and groaning. She delivered a kick to his ribs. “That’ll teach you,” she sneered. He let out a wail of pain in response. Midge felt frozen in place.

 

 

Finally, James snapped out of his horrified trance and reached under his shirt. He withdrew a gun from his belt and aimed it at her chest. “Move and I’ll shoot,” he warned, advancing toward her. She backed away until she was trapped in the corner.

“Don’t touch me you creep!”

“Don’t move!” James’s shout echoed into silence. Alyssa alternated between staring at the door and the gun, unable to decide what action to take. James moved toward her unexpectedly. “Don’t try anything,” he growled.

 

 

Midge watched the scene from a faraway corner in her mind, unable to believe what she was seeing. James was right, as much as she hated to admit it. Things had never been this way. Things really had changed, for the worse. It was only a matter of time until the tower upon which they had been stacking lie after lie, excuse after excuse, came crashing down. This was beginning of the end. There was no more time for hesitation.

***

 

***

I awoke the next morning terrified. As I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but to shudder at every glimpse I caught of the clock. I closed my eyes, but the clock and the mirror were always there, sitting in some corner of my peripheral vision. Even when I kept my back turned, I knew I was still being watched.

The knowledge that I was constantly being monitored wasn’t the only thing troubling me. Lines from Midge’s letter kept repeating in my head. Things had changed. I was in danger. I was danger. Someone was coming for me. Why do you have to be so cryptic?! I growled mentally in frustration, knowing that they–whoever “they” were–could hear every word I said.

 

 

I decided that maybe a shower would calm my nerves. I climbed out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. My stomach clenched at the sight of the mirror and decided not to undress until I was behind the curtain, tossing them out onto the floor when I finished. I turned the hot water handle and held out my hands in anticipation. But the feeling of water washing over my skin never came, nor did the sound of it gushing from the showerhead. I opened my eyes and looked up with a frown. All I could hear was a low gurgle.

 

 

I bent over, turned off the water, and tried again, this time pushing the shower button in with more force. The button suddenly popped off and freezing water exploded from the hole. I gasped as bumps erupted over my skin and tried to block the water with my hands, but it wasn’t working. Finally, I stepped out, redressed, and left the room.

 

 

“Help!” I called. Early on, Midge had mentioned to me that if I ever needed help with something someone would come if I called for them. I never understood before how that was possible. Now it made sense to me.

 

 

It took a minute for someone to arrive, but I was relieved when they did. A middle-aged man with black hair who I had never seen before entered the room. “What seems to be the problem, miss?” he asked politely.

“I think the shower’s broken,” I replied. The man laughed when he heard the sound of water pounding against the wall.

“I’ll go take a look at it and see what I can do,” he laughed. He turned away and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “Whoa!” I heard him exclaim over the roar of the water.

 

 

I turned toward the clock, then toward the door. I noticed that he hadn’t locked it. Any time someone came into the room they locked the door behind them, except for this man.

I pushed down the thought before it fully formed in my mind. It was too dangerous, I reminded myself. And why would I…

 

 

All at once, Midge’s letter came tumbling back through my thoughts. Things had changed. I was in danger. I wasn’t safe here. And the answers to all my questions now sat just within my reach, behind the thick piece of wood. All I had to do was grab the knob, turn, and pull… It was dangerous. That I knew for certain. But how long had I waited for this moment? How long had I been waiting for the opportunity to leave?

 

 

I felt my legs walk to the door though my mind protested vehemently. My fingers curled around the metal knob, gripped it, and turned it until the door cracked open. I pushed it further.

There was a sudden, loud crash from the bathroom. I swiftly yanked it open the rest of the way, sprinting into an empty hallway. I pushed the door closed behind me and felt my stomach roll over. I was out.

 

 

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. My ears roared. My breathing sounded irregular. I took a shaky step away from the door and couldn’t help but notice how loud my footsteps, even on the smooth, carpeted floor, sounded. The walls were a dark shade of orange, with square panels and strips of white and red. The colors were sickeningly bold. I wanted to go back to my room.

 

I finally reached a red door at the end of the hallway after what seemed like an eternity of walking. I needed to keep a clear mind and find somewhere to hide or some way to navigate through the building without being seen.

“Lacey? Lacey, where are you?” the man said from my room. His voice was muffled, but coherent enough that I could make out the words. I whipped my head back and frantically grabbed the handle of the door before me. It wouldn’t budge. I spun around to find another door and tried it.

The door swung open. I gratefully scrambled into the room and pushed the door closed behind me, just in time to hear the sound of the man exiting the room. My heart continued to hammer in my chest. I needed to hide, I needed to hide.

I was in a storage room of sorts. Stacks of cardboard boxes and enormous metal cases stretched from one end of the room to the other in an unorganized mess. The concrete floor was cold under my bare feet. I dove behind a stack of boxes, desperate to stay out of sight.

I leaned against the boxes and tried to draw in a steady breath. Suddenly, a light flicked on, illuminating a small circle around me. I was sitting beside a glass wall. Behind the wall was a girl in a bed and a man wearing doctor scrubs. My mind flashed back to the dream and for a few moments all I could do was stare, entranced and disbelieving.

The girl in the bed tried without success to roll onto her side. I could see her eyes moving under the lids, but she didn’t open them. It was almost like watching the dream from outside of my body. The doctor crossed his arms, watching her.

Then another doctor entered the room, this one female. The girl stopped trying to roll over. My jaw gaped. I knew what was going to happen next. This couldn?t be real, this had to be a dream The female doctor disappeared from sight for a second. The bed began to slide backward.

Then the flash came, just as it had in the dream. I was too late to shield my eyes. They stung and watered from the intense white light. I blocked out the light with my hands but they continued to burn. In a few seconds I would wake up. The light faded, leaving me blind for several seconds. I blinked away spots until I was able to make out the shapes of the surrounding objects. I was still in the storage room, it wasn’t a dream.

Feet slapped against the floor somewhere nearby. Holding my breath, I stood. I couldn’t see the person, but I could hear them getting closer. As silently as possible I dashed behind the nearest metal container and pressed my back up against it. The footsteps stopped for a second then started again, this time faster.

I ran around the corner of the container though I knew it was too late. My heart dropped into my stomach at the realization that I’d been caught. The sound of feet thudding against the floor behind me grew louder. The steps were nearly ten times quicker than mine.

I flattened my back against the metal wall of the case, expecting something to emerge from the darkness and kill me. Then the steps stopped again. I sucked in a deep breath in anticipation. But I heard only silence. What sort of trick was this

person trying to pull? I scooted along the wall, anxious to get away.

Then my pursuer appeared from nowhere. In a matter of seconds I was pinned against the wall, a shadowed face scowling at me through the darkness. The man backed away slightly, leaning with one hand against the wall to support himself.

“Don’t. Speak,” he hissed.

–End of Memoria–