Molly - 35 years ago

　　"Please, take me home," I beg, scooching further back into the corner, wrapping my arms around my knees, and bringing them to my chest.

　　This has to be a nightmare. It can`t be real. The room I`m in is small and dark. I can barely see in front of my face. Everything feels damp like bathroom porcelain after a long, hot shower.

　　"You are home," coos the voice.

　　It`s a kind voice, more soothing than the baritone of the angry man preceding her.

　　"Why am I here?" I whisper.

　　"To help your brother," she claims.

　　"I don`t have a brother," I confess quietly.

　　"You do have a brother," she argues. "He`s here, and he needs your help."

　　When the boy first stepped into the room they locked me in, he was the ghost of someone long ago forgotten. I saw him in pictures many times, but any memory I had of him is gone. He died. His body is resting in the grave next to my parents. While I don`t miss them, that doesn`t mean I didn`t love them. Of course, I loved them. It`s just my new life is enough for me. It`s more than enough. It`s perfect. It`s all I could ever want. I don`t want my brother. I want my mom and dad. I want Jack. I want to be walking down the aisle with my arm in my father`s arm toward my future. I don`t want the past being thrust on me.

　　Connor left the room with his shoulders hung low. The man who replaced him made my blood run cold. He`s horrible. His voice is unnecessarily loud and his tone is angry. I didn`t like him at all. Thankfully, my refusal to speak frustrated him so much he left the room as quickly as he entered it. It didn`t occur to me at the time how lucky I was he stowed his rage.

　　The floor is stone, and it`s cold. Everything`s cold. I want nothing more than to be back in my bed, snuggled up in the warmth of my comforter. I wrap my arms tighter around my legs to keep them from shaking.

　　"I can help you," the woman offers. "All you have to do is ask."

　　"I did ask," I counter. "I asked to go home."

　　"Were you happy there?"Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

　　"Yes."

　　"Are your memories strong?"

　　"Yes."

　　"I can help you by taking them away," the woman explains.

　　"Why would I want you to take my memories away?" I remark, daring to look her straight in the eyes. "If you want to take a memory away, take away the one of me being here!"

　　"I can`t help you with that," she informs me, "but I can help you forget what you`ve lost, so you can focus on what you need to do now."

　　"What do you want from me?!"

　　"I want you to help ease your brother`s pain," she petitions. "He broke several rules to be near you, resulting in you ending up here. You`ll come to see you owe him a great debt."

　　"You want me to thank him for ruining my life?" Her suggestion defies all logic.

　　"He`s giving you a new one."

　　"I liked my old one just fine."

　　"What he did was selfish," the woman agrees. "It was careless, but he did it because he loves you. He`s never stopped loving you."

　　"If he loved me, he would`ve left me alone."

　　"Maybe," she hedges. "It`s too late for that now. I can`t change what happened, but I can make it easier for you."

　　"By taking away my memories?"

　　"Yes."

　　"I don`t ever want to forget," I state resolutely. "I`m finding a way back."

　　She shakes her head. "There`s no going back. There`s only forward."

　　She leaves me here, so I weep. I weep until my body convulses, and I throw up all over the floor beside me. When my eyes are too swollen to open, my throat raw from the strength of my wails, I fall asleep in a puddle of my own sorrow.

　　I spend days in emotional turmoil, ignoring the food they continue to bring. On the third day, the pains in my stomach win out over the attempted hunger strike. I reckon they aren`t letting me go. My only option is trying to escape.

　　When the woman brings in my dinner tray, I run past her. She doesn`t even try to chase me. Unbeknownst to me, escape is impossible. The stone walls seem alive beside me. With every corner turn, I hear the sound of shifting rock scratching like nails on a chalkboard. The walls are moving with me. At the end, when my breath is heavy and my legs are too tired to continue, I stop—at the doorway of the room I ran away from.

　　The woman is sitting on the bed I was meant to sleep in. Her tone is patient. "There`s no going back. There`s only forward."

　　"You`ll never let me go."

　　"No," she admits, "but I can help you want to stay."

　　I hear it then, the terrible cries of pain, like my very grief has given birth to a voice. I shake at the impact the sound has on me, a chill coiling around my spine and making camp there.

　　"That`s your brother," clarifies the woman. "He needs you."

　　His cries echo through the stone halls, landing with a heavy thud on my heart. I don`t know if I can stop his pain, but I need to try, and I can`t do that if I`m smothering in the memories of everything I`ve been made to give up because of him. I`ll never be free again. Whether it`s a single day or a hundred days, they won`t release me. It`s better to let my past go than drag it down with me into an ever-deepening pool of despair.

　　"Make me forget," I concede.

　　She smiles. "As you forget, so too shall you remember."

　　When she takes my shaking hands in hers, I close my eyes and wish upon all the stars I can`t see. But there are no stars. There`s only candlelight and the dog-eared pages of fairytales I`m never meant to read.