I remember things- useless things. Like the way my mom’s hair looked in the sun or how my dad’s voice sounded when he was whispering to his companions in the study. It was deep, ominous- desperate even. I remember the way my mom’s screams peeled through the house like skin off a fresh wound as she gave birth to my brother. I thought she would die. Turns out she would, just not then.
And I remember the salty lips of Commander Morwegan pressed against my own, a chilling reminder of how much control her had and how little I was in contrast to it. My parents lay dead in the streets and as though that wasn’t threatening enough, his rough hands had to ravage my body as well.
These useless memories keep me awake at night. Sometimes paralyzed in my bed, other times pacing the creaking grey floorboards. Nonetheless, they are here and they have changed me from a carefree child to a calloused one.
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