Chapter 247
Isn’t it?”
He shook his head slowly, expression unreadable. “I’m trying, Elena.”
I nodded. “So am I.”
But the rest of dinner dragged like an anchor. Our conversation never quite recovered. I couldn’t decide if I was more frustrated with him or with myself–for hoping things might go back to the way they were before everything changed.
When he walked me back to my car, he kissed my cheek. Not my lips. And I didn’t stop him.
I drove home in silence, the ache between my ribs growing lighter with every mile.
***
Two days later, I sat in the familiar softness of Dr. Voss’s office, eyes closed and fingers curled around a warm cup of chamomile
tea.
He sat across from me, quiet but alert. Waiting.
And I let it all out. Told him about Logan and Dr. Emmerich had been doing to me. That they’d been keeping my memories from
- me.
When I finished, Dr. Voss was silent for a long time.
Then he sat forward, hands clasped loosely between his knees. “I’m horrified,” he said plainly. “No healer–no matter how specialized–has the right to manipulate a mind that way. To block memories? That’s a violation of the most sacred trust.”
I nodded, blinking hard. “I thought I was crazy. For a long time.”
“You weren’t.”
We sat in silence for a while longer. I sipped my tea and tried to breathe.
“I want to help,” he said finally. “Truly. And now that I know someone’s been suppressing your memories, I believe we can go further. Faster. We’ll use the old ways and the new–together.”
I looked up at him. “What does that mean?”
He smiled gently. “It means memory is more than just chemistry. It’s spirit. Rhythm. The body remembers what the mind forgets.”
That afternoon, I lay back on the soft couch with the scent of wild rosemary and moonflower in the air. A warm compress across my forehead. His voice in the background, guiding me softly through breathwork, anchoring me in images from childhood.
And suddenly, the floodgates opened.
***
Laughter. Mason’s voice shouting as we tore through the woods behind the estate, our feet pounding over roots and dry leaves.
The warm glow of a campfire, Dawn beside me, our knees pulled to our chests as we passed stories back and forth beneath the
stars.
My mother braiding my hair on the porch while we listened to wolves singing in the distance. My father bringing me a slice of apple tart when I had a fever.
Snowball fights. Moonlit runs. Midnight snacks. Laughter over ruined s’mores. Training sessions in the old arena with my cousin Nora barking corrections. My uncle teasing me about being too fast for my own good,
They came faster now. Full memories–sights, smells, feelings–crashing through my chest like waves. I gasped and clutched
1/2
+25 BONUS
the blanket ughter
When I finally sat up, my cheeks were damp with tears.
Dr. Voss handed me a cloth and waited until I’d caught my breath
“I remember so much more,” I whispered. “I forgot how much I had.”
“You’re reconnecting,” he said, voice steady. “You’re healing.”
I stood slowly, legs shaky beneath me. He walked me to the door and paused there, fingers briefly brushing mine as I reached for the handle.
“There’s more,” he said, his tone shifting. Lower. Calmer. “Memories you haven’t touched yet.”
I looked up at him.
His expression was serious now–intense.
“You need to see them, Elena. All of them. They’re waiting.”
He didn’t say more. Just held my gaze.
I nodded, throat thick.
“I will.”
As I stepped out into the afternoon sun, I wondered what truths still lingered in the corners of my mind. What else had been buried?
And who might not want me to remember.
