BLS 2: {Prologue}
Unknown
It’s dark. How long have I been crying? Honestly, at this point, I’ve lost track. I don’t realize it when someone next to me whispers the three words, ‘Are you okay?’
When will I ever be?
“No,” I whisper back.
Who is next to me?
Looking up, I stare straight into ocean blue bells. Brighter shades that dive into the unknown of darker shades—beautiful, nostalgic, terrifying.
“Who…are you?” I ask, my voice trembling in the confusion, familiar sounds, yet not. His features are painted with guilt, eyebrows furrowed in worry, scrapes and cuts highlight his cheekbones.
“You don’t remember?” he asks with a light gasp, small inhale of air.
“Am I supposed to?” I wipe my eyes when I feel a tickling sensation trail down my face. “Why am I crying?” My brain full of questions, and one, just the scariest of them all,
“Who am I?”
These questions ring out in my mind more real than anything than I’ve ever felt. But another familiar sensation, was this surge of power through my veins, something incredible, but very much weighted also with pain.
“How…do you not remember?”
The man whispers, covers his face with both of his hands before he looks at me again. Even as I try to remember, my mind is a blank state. All I know is that, this is not normal, and I felt the sudden urge to breakdown. I try to think back to anything, but I can’t. Only the present time of right now, this scenery that I’m watching.
“Present time,” a voice whispers.
“Who are you?” I ask, glancing around.
“Me?” the man in front of me asks.
“Non, not you,” I say, then frown.
Non?
“No, I mean, not you. I heard something. Somebody else’s voice.” Even saying that out loud sounds insane. I laugh, a delirious giggle before I feel the tears stream down my face.
“Am I crazy?”
The man said nothing, but watches me with such pity that I had an urge to snap his neck in half.
What?!
Before I realize it, my hands are around the collar of his shirt. I gasp, trembling and let him go.
“Help me…”
Asher
Present time…
How has this happened?
How is this possible?
…
Did I really get a chance to start over?
She lets her fingers unravel against my shirt and look down at the ground.
“Help me…” She was whispering.
How can I…when I’m the one who took part of making you like this?
Her body heaves in pants, trembling hands clenches onto her hospital gown. I stare, but my mouth can’t seem to find the words.
So useless…
“How…how did I get here? Why can’t I remember anything?” Her voice shakes with her body as she grabs a fistful of her own hair, as if stressing her scalp will jog her memory.
My hands instinctively work to take her hands out of her hair. Her small hands sit in mine when I glance down, pale and delicate, shaped so softly. But she takes her hands back and clutches them against her chest as she stares at me.
“You really don’t remember me?”
“You look familiar…but non.” She frowns at the strange phrase. “Why do I keep saying that?”
“You know another language,” I say, staring. “It must be still hard-wired into your memory.”
“Tell me something useful, this is only getting weirder with your staring.” She says, as I blink a few times and shake my head.
“Sorry, I…”
Somehow, she has forgotten everything. She doesn’t even know her own name. But I couldn’t understand how she ran to me, when I called out her name. Unless her brain just couldn’t handle all the stress, so it…
Erased everything.
STARTED OVER
I glance at her, amazed at my own conclusions.
Is this some sort of sign? Is this some sort of hint that I can…that I…deserve a second chance?
I look up at the sky, then back down at her.
Maybe it’s not an exact solution, but it’s hard to bypass. I’m so tempted to just run away with her forever.
What a cowardly move.
But maybe…
…
I extend a hand towards her and give her a smile, “Hello. My name is Asher Moore.”
“Asher Moore, nice to meet you.” She says, taking my hand hesitantly.
“Nice to meet you too…
“Mila.”
