"She Doesn’t See What I Do"
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Emily didn’t sleep that night.
The memory had ended too violently. Her body ached, her head spun, and her fingers kept curling around the locket like it might vanish if she let go.
Morning came too fast.
She found herself at her mother’s house — unannounced. It had been weeks.
Romeo opened the door, still in his Avengers pajamas.
“Em!” he grinned, launching himself at her in a hug. “You smell like cold books.”
She managed a smile and ruffled his hair. “That’s just my brain leaking.”
He giggled and ran off, yelling something about showing her his drawings.
Then came her mother.
Hair perfectly tied. Dressed like she’d been waiting to say something serious all week.
“You didn’t call.”
“I know,” Emily said softly.
“You look pale. And tired. And distracted.”
“Thanks, Mom. Always a confidence boost.”
Her mom folded her arms. “Emily... it’s happening again, isn’t it?”
Emily looked away.
“You’ve been disappearing into things. Talking in your sleep. Getting lost in places you haven’t been. It’s not healthy.”
“I’m not crazy,” Emily whispered, her voice shaking.
“I didn’t say you were,” her mother said gently — too gently, like a therapist trying not to trigger something. “I’m saying… this thing with memories. It took you away from me once before. And now you’re talking about ghosts again.”
Emily felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “It’s real this time. His name is Ryan. And I think… he wants me to finish something.”
Her mom sighed. “Maybe that’s just you wanting to matter to someone.”
Emily flinched. That hurt more than she expected.
But before she could reply, Romeo came bounding back in, holding a crayon drawing of a tall man standing under a big tree.
“Look, Emmy! I drew someone I saw in my dream last night! He looked sad. But nice.”
Emily froze.
In the drawing… the man looked exactly like Ryan.
---
You’re totally right — having Romeo suddenly “see” Ryan through a dream might feel like a stretch or break the emotional logic. Instead, let’s keep Romeo grounded in real life, maybe as an emotional anchor or source of innocence Emily’s losing. We’ll make Chapter 9 longer, richer, and more emotionally layered, especially with her strained relationship with her mom.
Here’s the extended version:
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Emily didn’t sleep.
The poem haunted her, each word echoing through her skull like a ticking clock. The shadow’s warning twisted inside her. She’d seen Ryan — really seen him. But if the memory was sealed for a reason… what had she just cracked open?
By morning, the world outside her window looked too normal for how heavy her mind felt.
She didn’t know where else to go — so she ended up at her mother’s.
---
The house still smelled like furniture polish and vanilla, just like it did when she was fifteen and terrified of the memories that used to flood in without warning.
Romeo opened the door before she even knocked, bright-eyed and barefoot in superhero pajamas.
“Emmy!”
He threw his arms around her with the kind of love she hadn’t felt in weeks.
“You look like a tired raccoon,” he grinned.
She laughed for real. “Yeah? You look like a comic book exploded on your face.”
“Cool!”
---
She followed him into the living room, where he launched into a story about school and the lizard someone smuggled into class. For a few minutes, it felt like the world didn’t have to spin so fast.
But then her mother entered the room.
Lips pursed. Arms crossed. Dressed like she was preparing to be disappointed.
“You didn’t call.”
“I know,” Emily said quietly.
Her mom sat, legs crossed. “You disappear for weeks. I tell myself, ‘She’s just tired. She’s growing.’ But every time you show up looking like you’ve been dragged through a fever dream, I wonder if you’ve really left all that... madness behind.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not madness.”
Her mom glanced at the locket resting against her chest. “Still wearing that thing?”
“It’s not just a thing, Mom. It’s part of someone’s life.”
“Someone who’s dead.”
Emily’s voice dropped. “You don’t understand what I’ve seen.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
That silence between them had grown familiar. Years old. Full of words neither of them ever said.
Romeo, sensing the tension, tugged at Emily’s sleeve. “Wanna see my spaceship sketch?”
“Not now, sweetie,” their mom said gently. “Give Emmy some time.”
“No,” Emily said, softening. “Let’s see it.”
He ran off, leaving the tension behind like it never existed.
Her mom sighed, rubbing her temples. “This isn’t healthy, Emily. You’re not eating. You’re barely sleeping. You look—”
“Haunted?” Emily offered.
“I was going to say lost.”
Emily looked at the floor. “Maybe I am.”
Her mother leaned forward. “Please don’t fall too far into something you can’t climb out of again.”
Emily met her gaze. “I don’t think I have a choice this time.”
---
Later, as she sat in Romeo’s room flipping through his messy sketchbook, she found a drawing of a tree.
Big. Lonely. With something carved in the bark.
Not Ryan. Not a vision. Just a kid’s sketch.
But still, it pulled at her.
She ran her fingers over the page.
The poet’s tree.
It was real. It had weight. And the past wasn’t done with her yet.
---
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
The memory keeper PART 1
Romantizm"When Emily discovers she can absorb and relive people's memories through touch, she's overwhelmed by that until she falls in love with Ryan whose memory she was reliving but struggles to reconcile her feelings with the of their situation. Reliving...
