Murdered By My Memories Novels & Stories

If there are any. I walk towards the big painting that was on the corner of this room. I remember because of this, I was able to be happy for the first time after I woke up from the accident. Through this painting, I somehow realized that we can be together without me being mad at him. All I just felt is the soothing feeling while we paint together. It feels like, this was my body wants to do all along. A smile formed in my face while reminiscing it. I heard a knock on the door. It was Maia.

Mom cried “Mom! I’m not sick. Why do we need a doctor?” She cried again “Calm down.” I went near her “It’s me.” I hugged her and I cried “I miss you so much.” “No, you’re lying. My brother doesn’t love me.” “I love you.” I said “He loves you so much. You’re his princess remember?” “No. I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t leave me if I am his princess.” She sobbed A doctor came to check her. “What happened to her right now is a trauma. Because she tried to drown herself, memories may come back to her whenever she is sad.” The doctor said

“After I stopped waiting for you to remember I existed.” He looked at the ring again, then at me. “You’re doing this to punish me.” “No.” “Then what is it?” “My life.” That answer seemed to wound him more than anger would have. For the first time, Mark looked past me at the townhouse, at the warm light in the windows, at the doorway Elliot had left open for me. He seemed to understand then that this was not a hotel, not a hiding place, not somewhere I had gone so he would chase me.

My hands fisted till they turned white. The name of Owen wants to make me kill him on spot. Anger flared like a wildfire inside me—uncontrolled and violent. My jaw locked. Memories surged—unwelcome, unstoppable. Her scream when she was pushed down The wind. Silea and Owen's laughter as she fell. And then… darkness. My fingers trembled . I inhaled sharply, trying to force the visions back where they belonged—but they never stayed buried for long. I remember everything. The cliff’s edge. Aurelia’s terrified eyes as she fell. The moment I realized I couldn’t reach her in time. I was too late to reach her. The world had already stolen her from me once—and I refused to let it happen again.

My voice trails off, lost in the horrific memory. I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "But I guess the history books did get one thing right. I might not have killed my entire family… but I did kill one." As if summoned by my words, the memory surges forward, vivid and visceral. I can almost smell the blood and hear the chaos once again. A deafening roar echoes through the mansion, making the walls tremble. My heart races as a wolf, its fur matted with blood, barrels around the corner. My father. Our eyes lock, but there's no recognition in his gaze. Only a primal, savage intent to kill.

And my hands — my claws — covered in so much gore I can’t tell where the death ends and I begin. I did this. The beast did this. And somewhere in the fading dark, a memory stirs like something waking from a long sleep. Another night. Another massacre. Another time when I lost control and woke up surrounded by bodies I didn’t remember killing. Celeste’s face flashes behind my eyes. Then nothing.

I closed my eyes for a second before I forced myself not to stare at his horrific state any longer. I murdered both the cop and my grandmother. Until now, I haven't been able to accept this horrible reality, but what counts are the memories of my past that keep flooding through my mind. I finally remembered everything that I chose to forget to avoid feeling the anguish and because I didn’t want to worry my uncle and aunt any longer. But it continued to haunt me in different forms of shadow, and it hit me that I could never run away from my fears.

"Everyone, there is something deeply wrong here. The Alpha's character is beyond reproach. If he had truly done this, he could not have remained entirely unaware..." "But he just admitted he can't remember!" "Does not remembering make him guilty? Then what is the point of evidence!" A voice shouted back from the crowd. The two factions argued fiercely, and the area around the altar descended into absolute pandemonium. Through the blinding agony, I barely managed to pry my eyes open. Watching Silas kneeling there, my heart was consumed by nothing but a heavy, dull ache. Seven years ago, when I watched Echo get snatched and murdered, the killer's scent and face were burned deeply into my mind.

I can’t help myself, though. I close my eyes, but it’s useless. The memories flood in, vivid and merciless. Her wild, feral eyes. The way she lunged at me, tearing into my skin like a feral beast, possessed and intent on destroying me. My grip tightening around her middle. Her lifeless body collapsing to the ground beside me. I killed Carla.

It’s not my fault if you didn’t take my warning to heart. “Oh, don’t you even dare try to make yourself out to be the victim here, Mother,” I snap, pushed to the breaking point of my endurance. “You stood by and stayed with that fucking asshole for fifteen years, knowing full fucking well what he was doing to me. Most peoples’ first memories are of happy shit like fireworks, or the beach, or Disney-fucking-land. Do you know what my first memory is, Mother? It was that creep coming into my room and sliding his filthy fucking hand up my thigh with his other hand down his pants. My first fucking memory.” Mother’s anger crumbles away into tears of guilt. “Sarah, I swear, I didn’t know what he wa