12 - Theories

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It felt like there was a hot sludge gliding down her longues, blocking all oxygen. Sharp stabs tortured her head. In panic she let go of the memories – in such a physical way that she fell back on the bed. Panting, she kept lying there a little longer. 

What the hell happened? She hadn't only been stuck in Shades' memories; it had felt like their minds had blended. As if he had pulled her own memories to the surface. Consciously or subconsciously. 

Next to her she heard Shades groan. She had no doubt that he had felt the same pain. Never before she had been plagued by such a horrible headache; she was close to screaming. It felt like her memories were violently digging themselves in again. 

For a long time she could barely move. She was just lying there, in the bed of a murderer. Staring at the ceiling. At least an hour went by before she managed to sit up. She felt mangled, like she hadn't slept in weeks. One of the most effective torture methods. 

Shades looked up to her. When their eyes met, he said: "I guess things didn't go as planned?"

"They did," she lied. "I got back some memories. About or first meet. It's a little different than you claimed."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't thought it would hurt to polish the rough edges of our love story a bit."

Norah. So that was who she was. Who she really was. 

She rubbed her face. The horrible stabs had disappeared, but it still felt like her whole skull was bruised.  "So even back in school you were a bully. A follower. I'm not surprised."

"My survival instincts never let me down."

"You're a coward."

"That's a matter of perspective," he answered indifferently. 

Norah decided to put it to rest, she already sensed that discussions with this guy could go on forever. "Who was that creepy guy?"


The moment she heard his name, a freezing cold spread across her skin. She flinched. "Did he do something to me?"

Shades looked away. "Yeah."

She bit the inside of her cheek. If a man like Shades avoided eye contact, it must have been really bad. "What did he do?"

Sighing, he sat up straight. "Some memories better remain buried."

"That's my call."

"Well I'm not going to tell you. You'll come across them during your memory hunt."

Her jaw tensed. This was uncharted territory for her, she didn't know how digging up her own memories by using his brain would affect her. What if she got stuck in his head, or he in hers – who could tell? She didn't know this guy and the few memories she had retrieved about him, left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

It was clear he only cared about himself. She could see him being intrigued by the idea of displacing her soul, so he could take over her body to have her powers. Apart from that, she felt exhausted right now; she had no idea how bad this was for her health. But still... This might be the only way to discover who she was...

But not tonight. Now she needed rest. 

Still the name 'Clive' kept sticking to her skin like a row of stickers, of which she knew it would only cause her pain if she pulled them of. "Can you tell me more about Clive?"

"I'd rather not," he grunted. "He's dead. That's the only thing that matters."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Did you kill him?"

"Yeah," he answered without blinking an eye. 

Tilting her head, she studied his face. It wasn't hard to see the seventeen year old boy from her memories in him. The lines in his face were harder, his jawline more masculine and his eyes colder, but everything else was the same. Even his haircut. "Are you sure he's dead? You believed that I was dead too."

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes glided thoughtfully across her face. "You think he's behind the organization who wiped your memories?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It has to be someone who hated me. Did he?"

"Absolutely," he answered confidently. "But he didn't hate me any less, especially not after killing him. It makes no sense if he kills you but not me."

"Maybe that was still on his to do list." She sat up a little straighter, folding her legs underneath her. Despite the fact that she didn't trust him completely, it was easy to talk to him. "They were turning us in some kind of super soldiers. We escaped before the project was finished, who knows what his plans were. He might as well have send me after you to kill you, once he controlled my brain."

He remained silent for a while. 

It was far-fetched. Most people just stayed dead. 

"What are the odds that he somehow survived?" she asked.

"As likely as the chance that you survived. That is just as impossible."

"Not impossible at all, as it seems," she muttered, massaging her temples. It didn't matter. Whether Clive was the head of the organization or someone else; they were after her anyway. 

She froze when his hand glided across hers, squeezing her fingers. "He won't find us tonight. Try to get some sleep."

Norah pulled back her hand. If she hadn't seen the memory of their wedding, she never would have believed that she would marry such a man. She didn't want him to touch her, right now he was still a bully. A stupid follower. 

But he was right. It was better to get some sleep; her whole body was aching because of the intense experience of an hour ago. Knowing that she would have a better sleep here than on the couch or the floor, she rolled to the furthest side of the bed. 

"Don't touch me," she warned him. 

The next morning however, she felt his breathing against her neck and a heavy arm was draped across her side. 

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