CHAPTER EIGHT
BethI no longer knew what to think or feel. I wanted to hug Cyle. Slap him. Run away before he could hurt my brittle heart.
His memories had been night and day. The first ones had been full of happiness and excitement. I’d seen him as a young boy, then as a teenager. He’d had a happy childhood. He’d wanted for nothing. Already, his thinking had been analytical, but his behaviour had been less controlled. He’d had the courage to take risks, even if that meant having to fess up to his mistakes.
But then, the Sleep. It crept into his memories like a dark fog, pushing away all joy. I watched as he shook his prone mother, begging for her to wake up. I saw how his father was no longer at home, spending all day and night in his lab, searching for a cure. Just like his son now.
A
