I want to remember every piece of my men, of our time together, of everyone who I know and love.
But I also don’t want to remember the pain of one hundred deaths.
But don’t I deserve it?
“I have a question.” I try to find my reflection again, the version of myself who kept the memories. Perhaps the one who provided the strands, who guided me towards safety. Who warned me of danger. Who forced me to walk on uncomfortable paths.
“One.” The voice is exasperated. Tired.
“If I…if I choose to forget. What will happen to you?”
“You stupid girl. We are the same. We are different. I will exist within you just as I always have, you just won’t know it. Or perhaps I never existed, perhaps I am simply a figment of your imagination that you use to cope with the mars on your soul. Because Sunday, your–our–soul? It was nearly blackuntil those purple strands found you. Nearly irredeemable. Nearly a void of emptiness. A dead girl with finite time.”
“Don’t I owe it to them to remember?” My eyes trace the two doors.
“Do you think they would want you to? To feel the pain over and over again? They have had time to process, but it would hit you all at once.”
But don’t I deserve it? Don’t they deserve to be with someone who remembers every memory with them?
Except…But…
FUCK.
“I’ve made my choice,” I say, turning to face the door.
“So you have. May you find peace in your decision.” And then there’s pressure on my shoulder blades forcing my body forward through the door.Hands pushing me. Not just two hands but dozens–hundreds.
The light explodes around me. Vibrant colors sparking across my vision in a nauseating kaleidoscope.
And then I am falling.
51
October 13th
“Sunday! Sunday! Wake up!”
“Huh? Wha–”
Arms wrap around me. “You scared me.” Veronica clutches me to her.
I’m still coming to, but I hug her back. “I’m fine, I was just dreaming.”
Behind us the door slams open. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing! Get out!” Veronica yells over my shoulder.
It takes a few, but I hear the door clink shut again.
“I’m sorry. Your breathing was so shallow and your face seemed extra pale. And fuck. William is dead.” Her voice breaks. “Does it get any easier?”
“Some days. You ready to get up?”
She drops her hold on me, getting up from the bed and appraising the room, her lips quirk at the sight of Auggie’s hoodie. “I miss him, too. He was the sweetest man, the best boyfriend I could ask for. He always put me first.”
“It sounds like he also put you in danger.” I grab the hoodie out of the box, offering it to her. “If you want it. I have a few.”
“He didn’t know how dangerous it was, he thought it was just teenagers drugging girls. And when we knew it was more, I wouldn’t let him stop me.” She takes his hoodie from me, clutching it to her chest. “It’s just us now, Sunday. And the other O’Briens.” Her eyes crinkle in humor, breaking through her frown. “All three of them?”
