Novel & Cerita Bittersweet Memories Read Online

--- The closeness. --- The version of her that believed everything was okay. --- --- Her chest tightened. --- --- Not from longing. --- --- But from memory. --- --- Because memories— --- Memories don’t come with context. --- --- They don’t show you the full story. --- --- They show you pieces. --- --- And sometimes— --- Those pieces look better than the truth. --- --- Her fingers hovered over the screen. --- --- She could scroll. --- --- She should scroll. --- --- But she didn’t.

" It all happened so fast that I couldn't dodge. Her slap burned my skin, making my cheek throb as I stumbled forward, almost falling to the ground. My father and Audrey didn't even flinch. They just stood there, watching coldly with hatred burning in their eyes. My father spat on the ground. "The tarot reader was right. She told me one of you was gonna bring wealth, and the other ruin. We should've killed you the second you were born. You're such a disappointment!" Their eyes cut into me like sharp knives. For a moment, anger, sadness, and pain all fought inside me. But it passed quickly.

I mumbled as I stared at his dark nearly black eye lids that made him look tired. The sigh that the doctor made told me that he didn’t approve of my observation. “Bella we are trying to get your memories back. So I need you to try.” He said as he handed me the card. “I did try.” I grumbled. “It’s a brown bear.” He stated as he picked up another card. I pressed my lip because there were too many things in the world and I couldn’t know what they all were if I had only two weeks of memories.

A girl in her late 20’s, was walking in a hotel corridor, completely drunk. Her 5ft 6-inch figure was dangling with a lost mind over her each step. Her vision was too hazel to recognize the path in front of her, just like her life. Anger, frustration, and feeling of betrayal once again were swelling her heart.

As I slowly came to, I understood why they looked that way. They had seen my memories. They had seen everything I went through—the humiliation, the pain, and the truth about the daughter and sister they had worshiped for years. So I laughed. It was a bitter, broken sound that hurt even as it escaped my lips. My head felt like it was splitting apart, as if a thousand needles were driving into my skull. Mr. Wilson glanced nervously at the monitor. “Mr. Zeller, Miss Lily’s condition isn’t stable. She can’t take another memory extraction. Have you found the answers you wanted?”

he whispered as she closed her eyes basking in the afterglow of their mutual act. Cordelia managed to smile as she heard words not exactly meant for her as much as they had been for the whisp of memory in the image of the elegant lass Noreen McCray as she slowly faded from Alain's weary lust-addled mind just as he'd passed out and into the image of the panting redhead who had taken them to heart.

She could even see mockery flicker in his eyes. “Remember this. Everything you’re suffering now is to atone for Yvonne!” Her legs were held apart. Something was injected into her stomach. A jolt of excruciating pain ripped through her, and Sophia cried out as she felt the life inside her slowly fade. No, no! That was her child! The child she had been clinging to for hope, the child that had already formed inside her! Sophia screamed hysterically, consumed by endless pain. On the edge of collapse, she let out every ounce of her hatred in a raw, guttural howl.

Out of curiosity, I went close and read the printed words. 'In the loving memory of Rowan Black Smith' 'In the loving memory of Heliana Smith' The name seemed so familiar, it's like I already heard those names. They sounded important to my ears. 💙💙💙 Grazzi Vergiance! Vote and Comment. Enjoy reading! :) Please tell me some of your comments and suggestion for improvements. I will be willing to learn more and that would be great. -DarkVergent

Not dramatic silence. Not theatrical silence. The kind that follows an answer nobody wanted. The kind that settles heavily in your chest. The shadow beyond the crack continued smiling. Patient. Certain. As though it already knew how this would end. I hated that. The girl pointed toward the sea of memories. “There has to be enough left.” My gaze followed her hand. Thousands of glowing memories floated through the darkness. Most were still intact. But many were fading. Dying. Disappearing. The crack widened again.

Sometimes, in those walks, I let myself remember. The basement. The freight access. The cold of the run through the unfamiliar woods. The motel room with the television announcing the gunshots at the estate. The sixty-three dollars I had counted out of my coat pocket at a bus station whose name I never wanted to hear again. The memories did not arrive with the old weight. They arrived softened, the way scars do when they have been there long enough to become part of the body's geography rather than the body's news. Sweet, I thought once, surprising myself. They have become sweet.