Before, I stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time. But now, from the burning in the stranger’s eyes, I know he has every intention of killing me.
I wonder, does he see her too?
Her name is Far. All my life, I have been haunted by memories. I don’t know about magic or destiny or death. But they do. There are thousands of memories and dozens of lives trapped inside me. Or maybe I am trapped inside them.
Far’s memories are the clearest, so close to the surface that sometimes I believe they’re my memories. That I am Far. That she is me.
Of course that can’t be true. I’m not Far.
But I can’t let it go. I can’t convince myself that I’m my own, separate person when one crucial piece of evidence is missing:Far never died. Her life cut short as if she ceased to exist.
And I can’t help but think it is has something to do with me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to recall how it feels to be stabbed. For once, the memories don’t appear.
His footsteps behind me grow louder. When I try to push myself up from the forest floor, my chest smashes back to the ground.
The footsteps stop. I hear his breathing behind me. A heavy inhale. A slow, relaxed exhale. I can’t see him, but I think he’s smiling.