The Persistence of Memory | ✔

13

"It's a complex role, I can't say it hasn't been a challenge to get into the character's head. . . ." The woman, a young actress with a voice clear and delicate, like bells, laughed. "She's in her head a lot, so it's hard to know what her true motives are."

Nina fully emerged from the kitchen, her hand feeling better though a dull burning sensation persisted. Her mouth tasted like coffee—bitter—and yet felt too dry. Nina focused her gaze on anything but the television, walked to the couch and picked up the book once more before changing the channel.

". . .In that way the narrator is not a reliable source. . ." said the man on the television, an older gentleman with a stern look on his aging face. It was the kind of person Nina fully expected to see on a channel that specialized in educational programming. Still, his steady voice was pleasant enough that she didn't bother to look for something else.

Instead, she looked down at the book in her hand, her thoughts clearer for the time being. She thought of the smell of flowers and spice and the soft piano notes drifting down a narrow hall. Nina thought of the clacking of her shoes on the hardwood floors and of Alice who would know all too well what the book Nina held was talking about.

Alice, who had left Nina with a series of vivid memories for a reason Nina still wasn't certain of.

The scent of coffee still permeated the room. Coupled with the steady, soothing voice of the man on the television, Nina felt herself getting drowsy. She could feel the warmth of her apartment wrapping around her like an embrace, thet sounds of the city were just barely audible, seeming much more distant than they really were. Nina closed her eyes and pictured the moment as it was, painted vividly in her mind by the scents and sounds that surrounded her. Each sensation adding a stroke of color that made the picture all the more clear.

Her mind switched for the briefest of moments to the picture of the woods hanging in the hall of Alice's memories, and in that instant, Nina caught a glimpse of what Alice might have been thinking.

She wanted the memories to be clearer, Nina thought, her eyes opening and staring at the television screen without truly seeing the images on it. Her mind was somewhere else, her thoughts focused on the stray thought.

She wanted me to remember. To have to see those memories over and over. The thought was one that almost made Nina upset. Alice's memories had been meant to haunt her, to become so ingrained in her thoughts that Nina wouldn't be able to escape them—that they would drive her mad. And maybe they drove Fearnley mad.

The thought made a shiver run down her spine, the warm room suddenly seeming much too cold and the sound of Fearnley's voice—of a man on the verge of breaking apart—seemed to ring in Nina's head.

But I still don't know if Alice really implanted the same memories into Fearnley. What if it's something else? What if we're both just going mad? The thought was of little comfort to Nina. Especially because there was too much evidence pointing to something else—something bigger than her and Fearney and Alice, going on. Even so, she knew it wasn't enough. Nina knew there was more left to uncover before she could get the bottom of it all.

She just hoped she could keep herself together for long enough.

". . .The journey home is a long, yearly ritual. . . ." Nina turned off the television, the voice of a woman on some sort of nature show cutting of abruptly. The sudden silence seemed almost oppressive, reminding Nina of just how alone she was.

It's never bothered me before, she told herself. Just another thing that had changed as of late. Something Nina wished could have remained as it once was.

She glanced at the cellphone laying on the coffee table, still and silent as the rest of Nina's home. For an instant, Nina thought about calling someone, anyone. Maybe Iris, her cheerful demeanor would help and Nina could bounce ideas off of her. Or Ben, who Nina was sure she could convince to get her some information, despite all the complaining he would inevitably do. Her fingers twitched at the idea, eager to dial a familiar number. Instead, she closed her eyes and felt glad she'd powered down her phone earlier.

Nina walked away, knowing it was too late for any calls. That it was too risky to involve anyone else. She glanced at the clock on the wall, the late hour finally convincing her to finally get to bed. With some reluctance, Nina made her way to bed, doing her best not to think about where her dreams would take her.

She set an alarm for an hour that was too early for someone as tired as her to wake up. Still, Nina didn't want to dwell on unpleasant dreams—or memories. As soon as Nina closed her eyes, sleep took her.

The hall was the same as it always was, the lighting warm and the cream walls spotless. Ahead, Nina could see a picture frame hanging from the wall, still too far for her to be able to tell what it was that the frame held. A welcoming scent drifted in the air, a delicate aroma of spring flowers that made Nina's mouth curve into a small smile. Faintly, she could feel some emotion, pleasant yet distant. Like a memory she couldn't quite grasp before it slipped from her fingers like sand. Some happy moment that was on the verge of being forgotten. It was there for a second, and then Nina was making her way down the hall, her steps quick and the clacking of her shoes on the hardwood floor bouncing off the walls.

She walked down the hall with a purpose, steps never faltering and eyes focused on the door at the end. A door that Nina had hardly ever paid any attention to, always focused on the frame hanging on the wall. On the scents and sounds that stirred feeling foreign to her. On the diluted fear that gripped her the moment she found herself in that hall, like a passing thought that was absent for once.

A foreign sense of anticipation built up inside of her, Nina's heart beating in her chest. Hair brushed against her cheek and Nina felt a laugh was bubbling up inside of her, bursting out in a childish giggle that sounded like chimes caught in a summer breeze. The scent of spring flowers was all around and Nina felt at ease as she rushed past the frame hanging on the wall.

The door was in front of her, close enough to touch. Nina reached out with a small, pale hand, the doorknob cool as her fingers slipped around it. There was a creaking sound, the doorknob turned, and then there was light spilling from the opening—blinding in its intensity. Anticipation, pure and unrestrained, filled her for a second before it all faded away.

Nina awoke before the alarm she'd set had even gone off, the blinds covering the city were still shut. Her heart was beating in her chest, though not nearly as quickly as in other occasions, the familiar sense of panic that accompanied Alice's memories absent—a rare occurrence. Still, Nina found her mind going over the dream once more. She held out her hand—dark skinned, with faint scars she did her best to cover—so different from the one that had opened the door in her dream.

The scent of spring flowers was still clear in her memory, so vivid she could almost smell it as the giggling of a child rang in her ears. Vivid fragments of a life that was not her own. Nina sat in her bed while the sun rose over the horizon, painting the city in warm tones of orange and gold. The city was waking, and with it Nina was just starting to understand.

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Hey everyone! Hope you all liked this chapter, next one will be up on Friday so keep an eye out for it. As always, comments and votes are much appreciated. 

Have a great weekend!