Seared Into My Brain Novels & Stories

The device slammed into my forehead. I felt a burning pain as a portion of the flesh beneath the cup was flash-fried away. More pain, then a little pressure and finally nothing. In those seconds before my mind spun out of control, I had the oddest sensation there was something inside my brain. Searing agony - existence lost all meaning and I was gone. (One week later)

The word echoed over and over in my head. My breath hitched. Shock rooted me in place.

Why didn’t I take it down with me? Why didn’t I REMEMBER IT?! Well, if we’re going to be fair, I had just had my brain turned to jelly by the hottest sex in my life. (Up to that point. It got even hotter a few hours later.) And then I’d suffered the worst freakout I’d ever had (again, up to that point) because I had realized I’d just had that mind-blowing sex in the boardroom of the company where I worked. I had been panicked beyond belief, with my brain already no better than jelly –

Abraham’s POV. To say that I still reminisce about the spicy picture Sarah sent to me was an understatement, because the right word was that I was lost in it. It wasn’t something that slipped out of my memory like an ordinary image. It stayed, burned into my mind, haunting me at every quiet hour.

The way her lips curled when she smirked, the look in her eyes, and the sound of her moans —it was like every little detail of her was burned into my damn brain. The craziest part? I made myself relive that moment over and over again. I didn’t try to stop those thoughts. I welcomed them. “Come on man!” I heard a voice behind me. “Can’t you drive faster?” I heard a voice say behind me and I realized I had been driving slowly. I have been so stuck in my head that I didn’t even notice. “I’m sorry,” I said pressing the accelerator. I increased my pace and once again I allowed myself to drown in thoughts about Alison.

Snow After the seizure, my nerves were upset. Intrusive thoughts were a major problem. I kept thinking about the words the man had said to me. They kept repeating in my head like an infinite loop, which made me nervous in the face of not knowing. It was killing me that I was a target for someone without understanding why.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to keep them out, but it was useless. He was there. Burned into my brain like a brand. It wasn't right, it was still also hard to believe. It wasn't fucking right. I stood up, prowling around the room like a caged animal, kicking splintered glass aside. Every motion I took only forced the fury bubble larger inside me, flush against my ribcage so that I could feel I might explode. Like the night Ciara had died all over again. God. Ciara. I lurched back onto the couch, propping my head in my hands as recollections shredded me apart.

This time… I would be different. And yet I couldn’t pretend I was suddenly brave. Even after writing that list, I was still terrified. Terrified that I might be wrong. That this was all a hallucination. That maybe I’d wake up back on the floor in a pool of blood, and this was just my brain’s way of easing me into death. But the scar was real. I checked it again pale and thin, just below my collarbone. A memory written in skin. That alone kept me anchored.

If it weren’t for that—and the vivid memory of searing pain—I might have thought I’d dreamed the whole ordeal. The image of Cally’s hooves connecting with my leg was burned into my mind, a haunting reminder of how close I’d come to disaster. The sound of bone cracking, the flash of agony, and the helplessness as my body crumpled—it wasn’t something I’d forget anytime soon. The memory alone was enough to make my stomach churn.

She shook her head in panic. "No... you can't not know me! Have you forgotten how you made soup for me every day in the kitchen?" "Have you forgotten our wedding anniversary? Have you forgotten how you used your life to save my legs..." Soup. Wedding anniversary. Leg injury. When those words struck me one after another, a needle-like pain suddenly stabbed through my brain. "Ugh..." I clutched my head in pain. Broken, blood-colored images flashed violently through my mind: a pure white marble kitchen island, a cold dinner, black blood all over the floor, and a string of blood-red countdown numbers.