"Why can I not remember the life that I lived?" I ask, knowing what I ask is something I may not enjoy the answer of, for I imagine bringing someone back from the grave never goes the way you always want it to. "Those memories, I know they are there, and I feel like I can find them, but is as if a curtain keeps me from seeing them, just a simple opening of the curtains to do the trick."
Fiona takes in a steady breath, trying to help herself think of the best way to answer me. With her hair pinned back, eyes sharp, and jaw clenched, Fiona takes a seat beside me, pulling out a leather-bound journal, pages worn and brown, journal struggling to be kept shut, and a black seal upon the front. "I have never brought someone back from the dead, not because I was not powerful enough, but because o
