Becky’s POV
The place was a maelstrom of sorrow and gloom. I was hooked to a chair with firmly anchored legs and arms. Over me, Lydia and Samantha loomed. They looked cold and resolved. The low light made ghostly shadows on the walls that aggravated my uneasiness.
Please, I implored; my voice was strained from screaming, let me go. “Why are you acting?”
Lydia started with hostile intent. Still not clear whether you recall. We will help you with that.
She grabbed a metal rod and swung it fiercely. I stammered; the crash hurt my face. My eyes faded as the room spun. Every hit seemed to be tearing through the very fabric of my past, not merely my skin.
Every strike exposed broken memories that were elusive but powerful. Though it was severe, the anguish set off something deep within me
