The First Memory
1641 Words
Chapter Six
The First Memory
The knocking stopped.
Amara stood frozen at the riverbank, staring at the water.
Three knocks.
That was all.
But somehow, they felt louder than thunder.
Gabriel moved toward her.
“Don’t go near the river.”
Amara barely heard him.
Her eyes remained fixed on the dark water.
“That was coming from underneath.”
“I know.”
“What is underneath there?”
Gabriel didn’t answer.
She turned to him.
“You keep telling me what not to do. You keep telling me what my father knew. You keep telling me my sister is alive.”
Her voice shook.
“But you haven’t told me the most important thing.”
“What?”
“Who am I?”
Gabriel looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said quietly:
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
A sound came from behind them.
Branches snapping.
Gabriel immediately turned.
“Someone’s coming.”
Amara looked toward the trees.
A figure emerged.
An elderly woman.
She wore a faded blue wrapper and carried a wooden walking stick. Her silver hair was tied at the back of her head.
She stopped when she saw Amara.
Her eyes widened.
Then she whispered:
“Chi m.”
Amara frowned.
“What did you call me?”
The woman didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked at Gabriel.
“You brought her here.”
Gabriel nodded.
“I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
The old woman looked at Amara again.
“You should never have come back.”
Amara stepped closer.
“Do you know me?”
The woman smiled sadly.
“I knew you before you knew yourself.”
Amara’s heart began racing.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mama Ijeoma.”
“How do you know me?”
The woman looked toward the river.
“I was there the night you were born.”
Amara stopped.
“You saw me?”
“I saw both of you.”
“Adaora?”
The old woman nodded.
“Your mother was not the only one who failed to tell you the truth.”
Amara swallowed.
“Then tell me.”
Mama Ijeoma studied her face.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
Amara said nothing.
“But your sister has your mother’s.”
“Where is Adaora?”
The old woman’s expression hardened.
“Do not call her by that name.”
“Why?”
“Because she has not been Adaora for a very long time.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
“What do you mean?”
Mama Ijeoma looked at him.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“I was only a boy.”
“And yet you remember.”
He looked away.
Amara noticed.
“What happened to her?”
Mama Ijeoma sighed.
“She was taken.”
“By the River Mother?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
The old woman looked directly at Amara.
“By herself.”
Amara frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Mama Ijeoma reached into a small cloth bag hanging from her shoulder.
She removed a tiny object.
A silver pendant.
She placed it in Amara’s palm.
The moment Amara touched it, pain shot through her head.
She gasped.
The world disappeared.
⸻
She was standing in a room.
Dark.
Hot.
Smoke filled the air.
A baby was crying.
Amara looked down.
She was holding a newborn child.
Her hands were tiny.
Impossible.
She tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Then she heard a woman crying.
“Please!”
Her mother’s voice.
Young.
Terrified.
A man stood beside her.
Her father.
He was holding another baby.
Two newborn girls.
Two identical faces.
One was crying.
The other was silent.
A third person stood in the doorway.
A woman dressed in white.
Her face was hidden beneath long black hair.
She held out her hand.
“Give me the silent one.”
Amara’s father stepped backward.
“No.”
The woman smiled.
“You promised.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You cannot change what was promised.”
Her mother screamed.
“Take neither of them!”
The woman turned toward her.
“Then both will die.”
Her mother fell to her knees.
“No.”
The room shook.
The babies began crying simultaneously.
Her father looked at the two children.
Then at his wife.
He whispered:
“Which one?”
Her mother couldn’t answer.
The woman in white smiled.
“Choose.”
Suddenly, someone burst through the door.
Mama Ijeoma.
She grabbed one baby.
Amara’s father grabbed the other.
“Run!”
They fled.
The scene changed.
Amara was now standing beside a river.
Rain poured from the sky.
Her father was holding her.
Mama Ijeoma was beside him.
“Go!”
“I can’t leave her!”
“You have to!”
The river rose.
Something moved beneath the surface.
A woman’s voice echoed from the water.
“You cannot steal what belongs to me.”
Her father held the baby tighter.
“She belongs to me.”
The river exploded.
A huge wave struck them.
Amara saw her father’s hand disappear.
She saw the baby fall.
She screamed.
Then everything went black.
⸻
Amara opened her eyes.
She was on the ground.
Gabriel was kneeling beside her.
“Amara!”
She gasped for air.
Her mother was standing nearby.
But she wasn’t alone.
Adaora stood beside her.
Amara’s blood ran cold.
She looked exactly like the woman from her vision.
Only now she looked older.
Real.
Alive.
Adaora smiled.
“You remembered.”
Amara couldn’t speak.
Her mother moved toward her.
“Amara, don’t listen to her.”
Adaora laughed softly.
“Still protecting your favorite.”
“Stop.”
“She doesn’t even know what you did.”
Amara looked at her mother.
“What did you do?”
Her mother began crying.
Adaora stepped closer.
“You left me.”
“I didn’t know!”
“You chose her.”
“I didn’t!”
“You always chose her.”
Amara looked between them.
“Why do you hate me?”
Adaora’s smile disappeared.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then what?”
“I envy you.”
Amara stared.
Adaora’s eyes filled with tears.
“You got the life that should have been mine.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“I know.”
Adaora took another step.
“That’s why I don’t know whether to save you or destroy you.”
Gabriel moved between them.
“Adaora.”
She looked at him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you.”
Gabriel’s face hardened.
“You’ve changed.”
“We all have.”
She looked at Amara.
“But she hasn’t.”
Amara frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Adaora smiled.
“You’re still carrying the mark.”
Amara instinctively touched her left wrist.
There was nothing there.
“Which mark?”
Adaora’s eyes narrowed.
“You can’t see it yet.”
Gabriel grabbed Amara’s hand.
“We’re leaving.”
Adaora laughed.
“You can’t outrun it.”
“Watch me.”
Gabriel pulled Amara toward the car.
Her mother followed.
But before Amara reached the vehicle, Adaora called out.
“Amara!”
She turned.
Adaora stood beside the river.
“Your father didn’t save you.”
Amara froze.
“He made a bargain.”
“What bargain?”
Adaora’s voice became cold.
“He promised the river your life in exchange for mine.”
Amara’s heart stopped.
“No.”
“Ask him when he comes back.”
The words echoed through the trees.
Then Adaora disappeared.
Amara turned to Gabriel.
“Is that true?”
He didn’t answer.
“Gabriel.”
Silence.
“Is it true?”
He looked at her.
“Your father made a bargain.”
Amara felt sick.
“What kind?”
“He promised that when you turned thirty, you would return to the river.”
Amara’s face went pale.
“My birthday is in three weeks.”
Gabriel nodded.
“That’s why you have three days.”
“That makes no sense.”
“The river isn’t waiting for your birthday.”
“Then what is it waiting for?”
Gabriel looked toward the darkening sky.
“Your memory.”
Amara stared.
“My memory?”
“Your father believed that once you remembered your first death, the bargain would become active.”
“And if I remember?”
Gabriel’s voice dropped.
“Then the River Mother can take you.”
Amara stepped backward.
“So I shouldn’t remember.”
“No.”
“But I already did.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Only part of it.”
A sudden wind swept across the river.
Mama Ijeoma dropped her walking stick.
She stared at Amara’s wrist.
“Look.”
Amara looked down.
A dark mark had appeared on her skin.
Three lines crossing a circle.
The same symbol.
Her breathing stopped.
Mama Ijeoma whispered:
“The mark has returned.”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“What does that mean?”
The old woman looked toward the river.
“It means she has found her.”
Amara looked at the water.
A woman’s voice whispered from somewhere beneath the surface.
“Daughter.”
Amara closed her eyes.
And for the first time, she remembered something clearly.
A coffin.
Flowers.
Darkness.
Her own voice screaming from inside it.
And someone standing above her whispering:
“You were never supposed to wake up.”
Amara opened her eyes.
She looked at Gabriel.
“I remember.”
He went pale.
“What?”
“How I died.”
The river suddenly began to rise.
And beneath its surface, something opened its eyes.
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