The way to Alice's hometown felt like a long one. Nina thought it was most likely due to the anticipation that she felt . After all, she didn't know what she would find there. She just hoped there would be answers.
It was well into the afternoon by the time Nina reached the small town. At any other time, Nina would have described it as a quaint little place, with a feel that made her think of another era. The place was quiet, with Nina only spotting a couple of people out and about. She wasn't surprised by it, after all, the weather was less than favorable. It was bitterly cold as the sun sank ever lower and the winds became like shards of ice.
Small shops lined the streets, decorated with multi-colored lights despite Thanksgiving not having even passed yet. It made the town seem bright, cheery even. It all made Nina think of the picturesque little towns shown on holiday cards. The same sense of nostalgia those gave Nina were stirred up as she drove through the bright street.
She wondered if Alice had felt the same way when she went back. More than anything, Nina wondered if Alice had known it would be her last time seeing those bright shops and picture perfect streets.
The thought cast a shadow across the town, it tinged Nina's view of it with an air of sadness that she struggled to push away.
Not long after, she found herself driving away from the main street and past rows of houses with perfectly kept lawns. Decorations shone brightly, glittering like stars. A memory from a time when Nina was still a child flashed in her mind.
She could almost feel the cool glass of the car's window as she'd pressed her face close and stared at the brightly decorated houses. Nina had been vaguely aware of her parents smiling in the front of the car, her mother pointing out different decorations and Nina's outward joy at the sights obscuring the whisper of envy she felt at knowing all her family could afford was a small tree and a couple strands of garland.
That had been a very long time ago, when things had been easier. When her mother was still alive and Nina couldn't even begin to imagine what awaited her.
Those were the thoughts that were still swimming around in her mind as she parked across the street from the house where Alice had grown up. Nina pulled out the slip of paper where she'd jotted down the address, making sure she was in the right place. Once she was certain, Nina stepped out of the car and into the frigid afternoon, the sun sinking lower in the sky behind the dark clouds that painted the day a darker shade.
Nina crossed the street, and paused on the sidewalk, in front of a house painted a sunny yellow tone. The immaculate lawn was split by a walkway leading up to the entrance—a white door with a golden doorknob. Nina stood there and stared at the only thing that stood between her and the answers that she needed.
She took a deep breath, the cold wind feeling like shards of glass that pierced down to her very bones, and then exhaled in a mist that dispersed in an instant. With a sense of determination that Nina had sincerely missed, she began the walk up to the door, her steps loud against the concrete. They seemed to echo around the quiet street and Nina was almost tossed back into memories of a hallway and the steady sound of her own steps against hardwood floors.
Nina fought back against those thoughts, pushing them as far back as she could.
Not now, she told herself harshly. But in her heart, she felt fear. A fear of what awaited inside and what memories she might find herself trapped in. What would she see in her mind's eye as she walked into a place so familiar to Alice?
All too soon, Nina stood before that white door. She raised a shaking hand, ready to knock on the door and face Alice's parents. And then, she stopped.
Nina wondered what Alice's parents were doing at that moment. How were they preparing to face the first holiday season they would spend without their daughter? More than anything, she stood there and asked herself whether what she was doing was the right thing. If what doubts she had were reason enough to remind a grieving couple of the daughter they had lost just a short time ago—to pry open a wound that was likely still bleeding.
It's what Alice wanted, Nina told herself. She wanted the truth, she wanted me to find out what she knew. To find out who was after her. Alice wanted justice, and Nina would be damned if she didn't give her that much.
With a new resolve, she knocked on the door, a sharp sound that broke through the quiet of the night. A minute passed, and Nina began to wonder if maybe there wasn't anyone home. If maybe Alice's parents hadn't left town. If they hadn't run from a home that likely held more painful memories than they could handle, much like Nina had done after her mother's death.
Before she could reconsider, before she could hurry back to her car and pretend never to have been there, Nina heard the sound of footsteps. Someone was approaching, their steps growing louder with each second. A chill settled inside of Nina, her chest feeling tight as anxiety gripped her heart. And then, the door was opening, light pouring out through the slim opening and onto the dark street outside.
For a second, Nina thought of a small, pale hand wrapping around a doorknob. She thought of the scent of spring flowers and the laughter of a child as a door opened and a bright light poured out into a painfully familiar hall.
"Can I help you?"
Nina snapped out of her daze, and found herself staring at an older woman with a questioning look on her lined face. She clutched her sweater, a bright blue color, closer to her to stave off the chill that hit her as she stood in the open doorway. What really caught Nina's attention, though, was the woman's gaze.
Green eyes stared back at her, questioning and cautious. Nina did all she could to keep her mind from traveling back to a place in which she didn't want to find herself trapped once again. Not at that moment. With all the willpower she could muster up, NIna dragged herself away from that hall and the mirror hanging from it—from the near identical green gaze she'd meet there. She focused on the moment at hand, on the woman standing before her, waiting for an answer.
"Yes, good afternoon, I'm Nina Sheppard from the Daily Inquirer," Nina began.
"You're a reporter," the woman said, looking both cautious and disappointed at the same time. Nina wasn't surprised at the reaction. If anything, she was just glad to not get a door slammed in her face. "Are you here to ask about Alice? We've already given a statement."
Nina tried not to think about the way the woman's voice faltered as she spoke her daughter's name. More than anything, she tried not to let the brief flash of guilt she felt at that grow into something bigger.
"I am, I'm writing a story about who she was. About her work," Nina hurriedly said, hoping she could convince the woman to hear her out before she found herself speaking to a closed door. "I was hoping you could tell me about her."
The woman at the door—Alice's mother, Nina reminded herself—hesitated, hand still on the door, and Nina had to try very hard to give her time to come up with an answer. As aware as Nina was that she was running out of time, she knew she couldn't press the issue. At last, the woman seemed to come up with a decision.
"That's all you want to talk about? Just her work?" she asked, staring at Nina's face as if trying to find any hint of a lie.
"Yes, that's all. You don't have to answer any questions you're uncomfortable with."
Alice's mother gazed into Nina's eyes for a moment longer while Nina did her best not to look away from those green eyes. Finally, the older woman gave a slight nod.
"I guess I can try to answer some of your questions." Nina held back a relieved sigh at that.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cassill. I promise I won't take long."
The woman gave a weak smile and opened the door wider, stepping aside to let Nina in. As soon as Nina entered the house, she felt a welcoming warmth wrap around her. In that same instant, a familiar scent of jasmine wafted over to her. There was a twinge of pain in her head, gone in an instant along with the flashing image of a very familiar hall. She didn't dwell on that, just accepted that she would be fighting the memories struggling to burst forth for as long as she was in that home.
Alice—her memories, still vivid in Nina's mind—were fighting to surface as if being called home.
"Why don't we talk in the living room?"
Nina's focus was turned back to the woman in front of her, still clutching her sweater close to her body as if fighting off a chill that wouldn't leave. Her eyes, hauntingly similar to those of her daughter, were still fixed onto Nina. They remained on the young journalist's form for a moment longer before looking away and leading the way to the living room.
"I'm sorry for the mess, we're getting ready to visit some family. With everything that's happened, my husband thinks it would be better to get a change of scenery," Mrs. Cassill said. Nina recognized her tone as that of someone resigned, but disbelieving. Clearly, the older woman didn't think a change of scenery would make her feel better about her daughter being murdered. Nina couldn't say she blamed her.
"It's fine, please don't worry about it," Nina said, her head feeling somewhat foggy thanks to the scent of jasmine so thick it felt stifling and the memories still fighting to emerge. All the while, the soft sound of a piano could just barely be heard from somewhere nearby. It was nearly enough to send Nina's mind spiraling back into that now familiar foreign memory.
She was glad when she was finally able to take a seat on the couch, her legs feeling weak and the world starting to turn. Nina settled on the firm couch, took a deep breath, and felt the world right itself for just a while longer.
"Would you like something to drink?" Mrs. Cassill asked.
For the first time, Nina realised just how dry her mouth felt. Perhaps it was the nerves, or maybe it was just being inside of a place so familiar despite her never having been there. The house, and Alice's memories, were playing tricks on Nina's mind.
"Just a glass of water, please," Nina said, working up a small smile that felt stiff on her face.
Mrs. Cassill walked away, and Nina was left to take in the room around her. It was a spacious place, with warm lighting and a variety of knick knacks laying about. The mantel held framed pictures, the light bouncing off the spotless glass and silver frames glinting as Nina's gaze swept over them.
It was only a second that Nina looked at them, yet that was enough to have images flashing in her mind. There were woods in the fall, painted in warm tones. A bridge stretching across a winding river. A pale face staring back with pleading green eyes.
Nina didn't realise when she'd stood from her seat. Nor did she notice at what point she'd taken the handful of steps that led her to the mantel. All she knew was that she was standing there, a picture in her hand and a prickly feeling just building up in her eyes as she gazed at the photo in the frame she held.
It was Alice.
Or rather, it was the young girl that would someday become the woman in Nina's memories. She was bright. That was the first thing that came to Nina's mind. A smile, small but still filled with warmth, stretched across her face while her eyes seemed to shine. That single instant, frozen in a simple image, reminded Nina of just how alive Alice had been. It reminded her of why she was there in the first place.
"She was still in high school in that picture."
Nina was startled by the soft voice of Alice's mother. Somehow, she managed to keep a grip on the picture, her heart beating rapidly as she placed it back on the mantel and turned to look at the older woman.
"I'm sorry," she said, and wasn't certain what it was that she was apologizing for.
"It's okay," Mrs. Cassill said with a small smile. It was full of fondness as she looked at the picture Nina had just returned to its original place. "You know, it was hard to look at them for a while. My husband kept saying we should just take them down, at least until we came to term with things. I just couldn't bear to do that."
"I understand," Nina said, and only hesitated for a moment before continuing. "My mother, she passed away some years ago. It was hard for a while, just thinking about her. Being in the same house where she'd lived."
There was no pity or sympathy in Mrs. Cassill's eyes, just understanding as Nina spoke. It made it easier for her to talk about her own loss, knowing that the older woman felt much the same way as Nina had when the wound left by her mother's passing was still fresh.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Mrs. Cassill said, taking a seat on an armchair. Nina walked back to her own seat, a glass of water waiting for her on the coffee table. "Does it ever get better?" the woman asked after a moment in a quiet voice.
Nina thought about that, thought about the nearly unbearable pain she'd felt when her mother had just passed away. She remembered the way grief would tighten its grip on her heart with any stray thought of her mother that crossed her mind. And then, she thought back to the picture that had hung on her wall not long ago and the way she'd walked past it so often before Alice's memories made that too difficult a task.
"In time," she finally said. "The pain is always there, even years later. But there's also all of the good memories you have. Thinking about the people you've lost turns more into remembering and celebrating their life and less about mourning."
At least, that was what it had started to feel like to Nina. It was the way she'd think about her mother humming as she did housework or walked alongside Nina. Or the way her mother's laughter sounded. The scent of her perfume, a soft, floral aroma that made Nina feel at ease.
"I'm sorry, you're supposed to be the one asking me the questions," Mrs. Cassill said. Nina pretended not to notice the way she wiped at her eyes, instead turning her attention to her water and taking a sip from it.
"It's fine," Nina said, a small smile on her face. One that she was surprised to find was genuine. Mrs. Cassill smiled back—a shaky twist of her lips—before taking a drink from a cup of what Nina thought was tea.
"Now, you said you wanted to know about Alice's work?"
"Yes, I was interested in the project she was working on. From what I understand it had to do with neuroprosthetics. Hippocampal implants, I believe they were called?" Nina said, taking out her notebook and a pen from her bag. She flipped to an empty page while Mrs. Cassill thought over her question.
"She didn't talk much about her work the last time she was here," the woman said, tone quieting at the last part. "But I'm sure that wasn't the last thing she worked on. It was a recent project of her's. She was so excited about it." Mrs. Cassill smiled as she thought back to that while Nina's hand stilled as she'd begun taking notes. She looked up at the older woman, doing her best to hide her surprise.
"Oh, and did she mention what her last project was?" Nina asked. For a second, everything stilled, Nina's whole focus fixed onto the woman sitting across from her.
"She mentioned it," Mrs. Cassill said, apparently having failed to notice Nina's reaction. "It was something about implanting memories," she said, and Nina felt like the world was turning upside down all over again.
- - - - - - - - -
Hey everyone! Hope you're all liking the story so far, and sorry for the late update. I've been kept busy during the holidays and I hope you've all had a great time celebrating with your loved ones. As always, thank you all for reading and have a great weekend!