Murdered By My Memories Novels & Stories

"Sorry for the painful love life ahead of you." The woman had a second look at her. She shook her head and walked away without saying more words. "Ma…" Tasha called the woman, but she didn't answer her. Her entire body froze for a moment, and she couldn't open her mouth to say a word because she was in fear coupled with shock. ‘What’s going on?’ She thought in her mind. She suddenly felt dizzy, and her leg was unfrozen. She saw things in double fold, and she closed her eyes, placing her hands on her forehead.

Anna pleaded shuddering. "Did you ever thought of that before you decided to play a stunt with me? Look at this right here-" he paused and pointed his finger to his neckline and Anna gaze followed through. "Do you remember how you stabbed me right on my neck yesterday?" Anna shook her head and began sobbing silently. "Don't try to play being an amnesia patient right now because it does no good to you and your little girl. You know what? I don't care if you remember or not, I only wanted to tell you congratulations for winning a death ticket to hell!" he said calmly and gave a loud laugh.

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.

" The crowd in the square had still been gossiping about the supposed affair between the doctor and me, with many already preparing to leave. But those words were broadcast across the square through the loudspeaker Daniel had forgotten to turn off. A stunned silence followed. People began exchanging bewildered looks. The doctor had an alibi. The revelation hit Daniel like a sledgehammer. If that was true, then the memory in which I identified him as the killer might have been deliberately planted. Perhaps I knew I would eventually be subjected to memory extraction and had somehow manipulated the evidence in advance. But why? Why would I use my own death to accuse an innocent man?

I feel a sharp seething pain in my head immediately I rest it upon my pillow. Darkness carries me and I find myself standing in this same house, Alicia stands right in front of me. This must be a memory, she is crying on my chest. “I killed him” she mutters to herself as place her on her feet, her hands grip tightly on the hem of my shirt, the room falls silent for a minute before she speaks again, “I killed him” “Yes” “I am a murderer”

My finger right by the trigger, ready to fire the bullet, ready to kill him, end him, remove him from our lives like he never existed. But my mind was playing tricks on me because my eyes didn't see the monster; My eyes saw someone else. They saw that little defenseless boy. For a flash of a second, I pinched my eyes shut, not ready to face the outcome of my action, but in that second, a memory flashed in my head, the same one I am sure he just remembered. **FLASHBACK**

I remember dying. Not in the vague, dreamlike way people claim when they “almost” do—no hazy lights, no muffled voices calling me back. I remember it with a clarity so sharp it still slices through my thoughts like a blade. I remember the warmth leaving my fingertips first, like the tide receding from a shore. I remember the metallic scent of my own blood flooding the air, clinging to my tongue with every shallow breath. And I remember—most of all—the eyes of the person who killed me.

I could feel her presence,I hated her absence,life without her was full of wants and desires. "I miss you so much" I said, like I could see right in front of me. "Come back to me" I told her,I want her, I want her back right now. "Hahahahaha" I laughed so loud, one could confirm I was going crazy. "Am sorry, am so sorry" I began to cry,I cried like a sucking child, I was hurt, my soul was ripped. "I killed you, I killed her!" I kept repeating to myself as my emotions got the very best out of me.

, I said and suddenly questioned my own motives. Why do I have such good reflexes? Why didn't I show mercy to Damon's father? Why are poeple scared of me? Why did I wear a loose hoodie in my past photo. Was I a robber or a murderer? Did I work for people helping in killing? How can that be possible. How can I kill anyone? Tha moment of killing crossed my old thoughts back to my head. When I woke up that day after losing my memories, all I could repeatedly watch in my head was my mother being draggged on teh ground completely naked when Richards hit her head with a hammer killing her.

Two things that eat from the inside – termites and memories. His temples were hurting. Glimpses from the past started coming back to him – brief flashes. Himself as a small child eating chocolates which Esha had gotten him. The fat neighbour who had chased them across her garden for stealing guavas. The puppies they had adopted after their mother died. Esha pushing him around on a little bicycle. The rigorous lessons of English language; A for apple, B for ball ... The memories lived inside him, the black and white reflection of a wonderful past. In reality, the mirror had broken into a million pieces.