Murdered By My Memories Novels & Stories

Emma's heart pounded in her chest, the anguish, and betrayal fueling a wellspring of untapped strength within her. As memories flooded her mind, piece by painful piece, the weight of her past came crashing down upon her. She remembered the night of her parents' murder—the chilling darkness that enveloped her, the deafening echoes of their pleas for mercy, and the searing pain of loss that had haunted her for so long. The very people she had sought solace in had been the architects of her anguish.

A murderer..... murderer... murderer..... The familiar word reverberates through my mind and I close my eyes to shut it out. But the harder I try, the more futile the effort because clear as day, the memory filters up from the deepest of my archives, playing out in my head like it was just yesterday it all happened. 15 YEARS AGO......

Alive? As I sit up in bed, memories flood my mind like a tidal wave. I remembered the night I died, the feeling of the blade piercing my skin, the sound of Diane's voice whispering in my ear. I remembered the pain, the fear, the sense of betrayal. But I also remembered the moments leading up to that night, the laughter, the tears, the fights. I remembered the way Robert smiled at Diane, the way Diane looked at me with a mixture of envy and hatred. I remembered the way I felt, like I was walking on eggshells, never knowing when the other shoe would drop.

He was too in love with himself to ever love someone. He grabbed another little piece of glass from his cheek and pulled it out, dropping them on the floor, "...But she was barren. She couldn't bear a child for me. She was useless, she turned depressed and annoying. She started to get on my nerves with her constant questioning and crying. I was tired," he gestured towards his head, "There is a blank hole in my memory, a blank hole that I desperately tried to fill but I can't! Because that blank hole has the memory of her death and I don't remember killing her. All I remember is my hands around her neck and her lifeless eyes staring back at me. When I came back to reality it was too late, she

“Yesterday the moon dragged memories out of me I didn’t even know I had. I thought only one person killed my mother, but I saw another. Someone else pulled the trigger. Someone orchestrated it.” Mara’s breath caught. “The moon pulled you?” Maxton nodded. “Yeah. And it showed me enough to know I need answers.” She reached for his hands hesitantly. The moment she touched him, her eyes rolled back. His memories rushed into her, the screams, the gunshot, the faces of men she knew too well. She gasped, stumbling back, horrified. “You saw all that?” she whispered. “Yes,” Maxton said, his voice hard. “But I couldn’t see the second man’s face clearly. You did, didn’t you?”

How could a clan be so wicked to treat one of their own in such a callous way? "Aaahhh!" I screamed at the intensity of the pain I felt from merely thinking about it. Worse, each time the memories hit, it always felt like it had happened to me and not to someone else. After that, I would calm down for a while and I would realize that it hadn't happened to me but to the person whose voice is in my head. Between those times when the memories hit me like they were mine and the time I realized that they weren't mine, I went on a full-scale killing agenda. I take out the life of anyone and anything I come across.

That would be just my luck. I stared back, thinking. Have I really killed someone? Oh yes I have. I remember : two of the men down the alley. I really didn't know how I got there and where those power came from. I'm a murderer. I can never live that down. It's a memory that will taunt me forever. I stared back at him.

I pressed my palm against the cold stone, as if the marble could carry my words into her soul. “You can rest now, Mama. You can be reborn in peace, knowing I am no longer at their mercy.” My voice cracked. “But I wish… I wish I could remember. That day. The day they said I killed you. No matter how hard I try, the memory is locked away, hidden from me. If only I could just remember, I could prove them all wrong. I could shout to the world that I am not the monster they painted me to be.”

I loved to eat and believed my past must have been happy because, in my mind, I could still see myself catching shrimp and fish in the river. It was all so beautiful. Still, I could never understand why I hated the Zeller family so much. Three years later, I finally found the answer. While visiting a small tourist town, I came across a vast stretch of cornfields. A sharp pain pierced my head, and cold sweat ran down my back. I stood frozen, staring at the cornfield as memories crashed over me in a wave of chaos and pain. “Bunny girl, bunny girl, dragging her hair through the dirt.”

The words hit me straight in the face like thick ice. I want to move, but honestly, I can’t find my muscles nor can I find room to breathe. This whole place is impure. What do they mean? The word keeps repeating itself in my head. Murdered…Murdered. My friend was murdered.