ღThirty Seven; Every Love Story Is Beautiful, But Ours Is My Favorite

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Thirty Seven; Every Love Story Is Beautiful, But Ours Is My Favorite

-dedicated to my sweetest readers. 

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"It's okay if I'm not your favorite chapter written, but I hope you sometimes smile when you flip back to the pages I was still a part of."

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“You know what this means, don’t you?”

Voices. I heard voices.

“I. . . I don’t know where to take her in. Please.”

“Zeus would not be so friendly this time.”

“I know,” the voice growled low.

“So removing her memories will do the trick?”

“Yes.” At the mention of that, I tried to open my eyes. I did. But all I saw were blurry images, they were distorted in a way I could not make of.

“She’s waking. We have to keep her asleep.”

I reached for my broken voice. “I-I don’t w-want to. . .” I wheezed out. “forget.”

Then things started to clear. I could make out of Eros’s wary look. Next to him was a man dressed in a white robe. He held a vial in his hand and was about to slip it in my mouth when I spat it out.

“No! No!” I tried to move, but I couldn’t. My body betrayed me, and my eyes started to close again. “I’d rather die than forget.”

I heard more shuffling around me. I had no idea what was going on. I knew they were planning to make me forget, whatever reasons they had. In the minutes they had given me, I recalled everything that had happened. I was Psyche. I was Cytherea. Eros. Eros. I can’t bear to forget about these things. Oh, and Ach. Even though every part of my body ached, I strained against their hold. They were trying to keep me away from completely waking up.

And then there was pain. It made me weak I complete forgot what I was doing. It eluded me into a deep sleep.

In my dreams, I saw everything flash in front of me. I saw how Eros and I first met, how he was so cold to me, how he treated me like I was someone he’d like to involve himself with. Then Psyche came and I saw myself cry. I saw my suffering, and fake smiles. I saw how willing I was to help Eros. Everything played out well until we reached the battle.

It was a wake-up call.

Each memory started to disappear. I saw how they played out like a movie and break like a glass. The first memory to be destroyed was our battle with Thanatos. Pieces of them scattered around me. I quickly got over my feet and collected the broken parts of it, trying to glue them back together. I didn’t want to forget any part of this. I’d fix this. But I know I can’t, because every one of them started to shatter, and I all but tried to collect them. It wounded me. As I touched the sharp part of it, my hands started to bleed. My memories resembled a mirror. Breaking, crashing as they all fell apart.

There was darkness in my mind. And it only got darker and darker every time I forget. It was happening. Really happening.

Until all I had left to remember was the night I met Eros.

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