Fragments Of The Past Romane & Geschichten

I could feel his still-still hopeful spirit, the same hope that felt spooked somewhere within me. The sound of Noah's laughter echoed from the next room, leaving us feeling grounded. The fragile thread that held us together was a reminder of our true fragility. As I surveyed the space, I noticed faint remnants of our past existence: the photo frame on the shelf, the coffee-like aroma, and the shadow of an item that was broken but still visible. For the first time in a long time, there was no sign of an end.' This was the start of a story that we could reconstruct one step at whim, one decision at time.

"Finally, you know your place." I didn't say another word. But inside, I was already torn apart. Seeing them now, I realized they must have been entangled long before. And I had been the fool, left in the dark all along.

No, you don’t. Throw his iPad out the window. No. Don’t. But, because my brain loves self-sabotage, I opened my mouth. “Do you really…” I swallowed, “...not remember anything from five years ago?” Nicholas still didn’t look at me. But his fingers stopped moving. “Fragments,” he said eventually, voice low and deep like it came from somewhere beneath his ribs. “A face. A voice. Sometimes… a green-eyed woman.” I froze. My eyes widened.

Kael demanded. I stared at the fragment, my heart racing. “It’s real,” I said. “That’s not helpful.” “It was one,” I continued, trying to steady my breathing. “All of it. Not separate. Not divided.” Silas’s expression darkened slightly. “And now?” “Now it’s broken,” I said. “Split into pieces.” Kael looked at the fragment again. “And this is one of them.” “Yes.” Silas’s grip tightened slightly. “How many?”

Trust is not lost all at once. It fractures— --- In moments. --- In choices. --- In the silence after something breaks. --- And once it’s gone— --- It does not return the same. --- The chamber fell still. --- Not because everything had been saved— --- But because something had been lost. --- Irretrievably. --- The fracture sealed. --- Abrupt. --- Final. --- As if it had never been there. --- As if what had been taken— ---

"Study it how?" "Nothing invasive. Nothing that would harm you. I simply want to understand how the fragments relate to each other, how they communicate, how they might be used together." She stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to look up to meet her eyes. "The Primordial was broken apart millennia ago. What if it could be made whole again? What if the fragments could be reunited into something greater than the sum of their parts?" The hunger stirred at her words, interested in a way that made my skin prickle. It liked that idea. Liked it a lot.

“Every time I fuck you. Every time you come for me. You’re going to feel what you did.” He flipped us suddenly, pinning me beneath him. His thrusts became deeper, more punishing, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. There was unexpected tenderness in the way he brushed hair from my sweaty forehead. “Does it feel good, knowing you’re fixing what you broke?” he asked between thrusts. “Yes,” I sobbed, legs wrapping around his waist. “No. I don’t know anymore. I hate it. I need it. I need you.” The memories kept coming in flashes as he drove into me. Lab lights. Screaming subjects. My own voice, cold and clinical. Each memory unlocked by another devastating stroke of his cock.

“We don’t know enough about these things. The records are incomplete. No one fully understands how they form. But what we do know isn’t good.” Another slam hit the door. I flinched, and the line curved the wrong way. I wiped it away quickly and redrew it before the pattern could break. “They carry the worst of the past,” Eira said, her words quickening. “These aren’t memories. They’re fragments soaked in anger, grief, fear. They act without thinking and they can’t be killed.” “Can’t be killed?” My voice cracked. “They fade only when the history tied to them collapses. And that…” She didn’t finish.

It makes us whole and sometimes it makes us shattered into pieces where we don’t know how to start on picking up the pieces and just try to live with the pieces that still made us alive and breathing. Those pieces that still gave an intact on our life but we already know that it was as fragile as a glass for one moment, we are already trying to outlive the past only to see ourselves stumbling on the ground and our words being shattered again by those pieces which we believes makes us intact and alive only to realize that those pieces remember every bit of her. Those pieces holds us together for it was the only pieces that remains for her.