HAUNTED
seven

7

He seemed stunned for a little longer. Her tears freed themselves staining her face, puzzled, she leaned against something for balance.

“What…” she couldn’t finish.

“Memories from our first lives,” he murmured with a sigh, knowing how crazy it sounded.

“That can’t have happened,” he didn’t respond, “I felt death,” she half smiled to keep tears from flowing. “What are you?”

“It’s a long story,” he didn’t know where he could possibly start.

“The teleporting thing, my mind can handle… but this… what are you trying to do,” he opened his mouth to speak, she didn’t believe it could be real, then didn’t, “you know what, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be part of another person’s games,” she walked out without another word. With the words, “I felt death” running through her mind.

Through the small hall way to the only other exit an elevator. Down to last floor. Finally, other people. Her tears screamed to leave… the memories felt so real. Every one of them. Like she had lived them. She had barely registered the kiss as another complication. Then the memories, his feelings in them, hers, her initial manipulation, eventual heart welding love.

The death… the blood… the monsters with wings!

Her fault… “stupid anti-patriarchal ideals,” constantly hungering to prove herself to the world, to those she cared for, if she had any left in this life… who is she kidding apart from Jacob who she had met yesterday… some teachers… and maybe her classmates who only shared with her a skin-deep love.

She needed to leave, he thought, I can’t go after her, it will make things worse. Why would I kiss her? Stupid memory I guess. She is going to hate me now. She saw the flood of memories too. Death… it hurt to watch her die. It hurt then and now. She looked hurt… I need to replace her. He reached for the door to the elevator, I can’t. Yesterday is gone, I wish we were still in yesterday. Turn on the TV flood out thoughts. The news should be entertaining.

Both their faces plastered across the screen, “these teens are the current suspects for the two bombings that happened yesterday…” she went on. He didn’t care to listen further. Lex is out there with police after her. He needed to warn her at least. Finally, he had a valid excuse to go after her. Maxie appeared on the TV, a little bruised. He smirked he had hoped the blow would have killed her.

“She has always been a troubled child,” she really should pursue a career in acting because he was almost convinced it was so far from her behaviour last night, “I tried to help her in every way I could. But there is only so much I can do.” his anger grew. He wanted to protect her, “it’s all my fault,” he might as well have slit her parent’s throats and thrown her to the dogs.

He left, she could be anywhere…

After wondering for what seemed like hours, she found herself in the city gardens and faintly remember coming here with her parents back when memories were worth something. These memories seemed further than those… those… clueless what to call them because they can’t really be actual memories. Can they?

She took a seat at a bench, zipped her jacket up feeling a bit chilly, and sat back for a moment. No one else was around. She thought… distraction, distraction, distraction … but none came the thoughts lingered.

Someone stumbled through the bushes, hours later…

A radio sounded, “I found one of them,” a police officer spoke. She looked up and saw a gun pointed at her, she sighed. “One of the bombers,” he said again as another police officer walked towards her.

“I didn’t bomb anything,” she said, “It was Sam, the Generals son.”

“I told you it was her,” the female officer said looking at the ‘wanted’ image on her phone.

“You have the right to remain silent…” the male one read her rights. She stood up and walked towards him. He didn’t shoot.

“Please, go ahead, shoot,” she didn’t want it anymore, life that is. She had last wanted it years ago, she had just become a rug used for everything, wiping every dirty table, scrubbing every toilet, wiping sweat… torn and tired… it will never end. Even when discarded she will live with the filth, the rips, the frying edges, among other garbage.

The female police officer grabbed her hands and cuffed her. The male officer unzipped her jacket to check for a suicide bomb, “I’m not a bomber, I just want you to kill Me.” she said callously, “I guess you won’t.” They escorted her to their car parked at the edge of the park, the entrance she had used.

He looked everywhere, he could think of. Places she could be, careful to remain hidden so he couldn’t be caught.

“Did you hear,” he heard a woman in a grey suit say to a man in a black suit, “they caught the girl who bombed that school and station.” He saw some cops across the road and walked right to them.

“Hi,” he said, they didn’t recognise him at first, “apparently I and a friend of mine have been accused of blow things up, I would like to prove our innocence can you arrest me and take me to her.”

The cop looked in disbelief, “okay,” Jacob found it funny. He had always loved messing with people’s minds. The cop put him in the back of the car and radioed in to the main station…